> Homemade Kites and Whatnot
>  by getmeouttahere
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1 - The Lake
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The wind rolls across the lake’s surface, causing small waves to softly lap at the pilings of the little dock. Though the weather’s been warmer than one would expect for early spring, this breeze is unexpectedly chilly, forcing you to stop for a moment to shiver beneath your jacket and wonder if it’ll really be enough to keep you warm when you get out there. Kneeling down near the dock’s edge to dip a few fingers in the lake, you find your fears are justified. The water is still very cold, and it appears as though the wind will be carrying that cold to you throughout the morning. It almost makes you have second thoughts about all of this, but a sudden realization that the cold water could also be to your advantage causes you to push those doubts away. A happy memory takes their place, holding within it a reminder of why you’re really out here this morning, and your mood brightens.

In higher spirits, you shrug off the cold and head back toward the lake’s shore with a confident stride, hopping off the wooden walkway once you reach dry land. A tarp has been laid out on the shore nearby, securely held in place throughout the windy winter by the large stones set upon its corners. You remove them and set them aside, then pull the tarp away, revealing a familiar wooden boat beneath. A careful inspection of the frame for signs of rot reveals none, so it seems that the tarp did its job. Both the oars and lines are also still safely tucked away right where you left them, which means there’s only one thing left to check.

“Well… let’s see if she still floats.”

With a heave, you push the boat into the water and use the bow line to guide it to the dock’s edge, tying it to the pilings so it won’t drift away. You’ll need to give it time to see if it’ll show any signs of taking on water, so you decide to use the opportunity to admire your surroundings while you wait.

The view from Ponyville Lake’s eastern dock today is familiar, yet captivating as always. The sun is rising behind your back, causing shimmering sparkles of sunlight to dance upon the tiny waves stirred by the chilly wind. The wispy clouds above hold no threat of rain, though they do add an impressive splash of color to the sky as it transitions from the deep shades of night to a brighter, more familiar blue.

You shift your gaze to your own shadow, cast long across the water by the rising sun, and for a moment you’re struck once again with the thought of how odd you must look to them— a strange, bipedal creature, standing so tall, yet practically hairless. No fangs, no claws… you let an amused chuckle slip as you hold out your hand, fanning your fingers and watching your faded shadow move to match. Yeah, you must seem so out of place here, yet they accepted you all the same. To this day, it never ceases to amaze you.

“Well howdy there, stranger!”

A familiar, playful voice rings out above the breeze and another, much smaller shadow appears beside your own on the water. You quickly turn to greet the new arrival, your smile growing wider.

“AJ.”

The little orange pony stands framed by the sunrise, and you have to squint your eyes a bit while they adjust to the light. Instead of her trademark hat, she sports a simple scarf to stave off the cool morning air, along with a worn-out set of saddlebags. She smiles back at you, emerald eyes shining with the dawn.

“What’s with the funny face, Anon? Are ya really that surprised ta see me here?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer as she moves to stand beside you at the dock’s edge. “You told me you were gonna be busy, so it is a little surprising. Did something happen?”

She shakes her head. “Nah, nothin’s changed. I’m just bein’ selfish, is all.”

Her straightforward, honest answer leaves nothing else to be said, so you simply nod back to her before moving away to place your gear in the boat. She wordlessly watches as you work, her unbound mane and tail fluttering in the breeze, until all the preparations are done.

You hop into the boat and take your seat, checking once again for any sign of leaks. Satisfied that everything looks good, you turn back to the pony waiting at the dock and give her a thumbs up. She chuckles at the gesture, then moves to untie the boat from the dock’s pilings before hopping in and taking her own seat while you ready the oars.

With all passengers on board and accounted for, you row to the center of the lake, carefully stowing the oars away and casting the small anchor off the bow once you reach your destination. Another chilly breeze rushes by as you guide the anchor to the bottom to make sure that it’s secure. It causes you to shiver a little and confirms your fear that it really is colder out on the water. For a moment, your doubts from earlier return, only to be quickly quieted again by a gentle reminder that you’re no longer alone.

As soon as she notices your discomfort, the little pony carefully rises from her seat and gestures for you to scoot over. She takes a seat alongside you after you move, leaning in close against your side, and after several minutes her warmth has helped to drive the cold away. You smile and pat her shoulder as a gesture of thanks, then move to prepare for what comes next. She does the same, digging into her saddlebags for the things she’ll need.

And then, with practiced finesse, two fishing lines sail through the air in tandem, breaking the calm silence for only a moment as they hit the water.

In your grasp is a sturdy fishing pole, its reel specially adapted for use by creature with dexterous claws or hands like your own. Her hooves are empty, a fishing line securely attached to her golden tail which lies draped across be boat’s side as she lounges against you, eyes closed and a peaceful smile upon her muzzle. You close your own eyes and relax your grip on the pole, enjoying the comfortable warmth of having her nearby on this third day of your first spring in Equestria.

Not even a year has passed since you were torn from your home and brought here through some inexplicable twist of fate. During those first few months, you kept a journal, obsessively counting the days since you arrived and recording your thoughts with the desperation of some unfortunate castaway stranded on a deserted island. The behavior made sense, after all, since you quickly discovered that you were trapped here with no way to return. You truly were stranded, and you truly were alone, even despite the attempts of a certain pink pony to convince you otherwise.

But then things changed, and you eventually stopped counting the days gone by. The purpose of your journal changed, too, in that it was no longer filled with thoughts lamenting your circumstances, but instead became a sort of memoir filled with tales of your old life. It’s actually starting to become quite full, as the long winter nights provided ample idle time to write them down. Maybe you’ll even get them published one day, as you’re certain that the town’s little nerdy librarian would enjoy them in an anthropological context, if nothing else.

Your thoughts are interrupted when the orange mare suddenly sighs and leans further into your side, prompting an amused chuckle from you that she decides to let slide. Believe it or not, this very pony was the one responsible for the sudden shift in your thinking. Even though Pinkie would surely puff her cheeks out at you in annoyance were you to say it, Applejack was undoubtedly the first true friend you made, or maybe more truthfully, the first friend you allowed yourself to make since being brought here.

In fact, it all started with a conversation the two of you had on this very boat. It ended up changing your outlook on the situation entirely because you found a kindred spirit in her. The two of you went fishing together many more times after that day, sometimes sharing stories, sometimes in happy silence, before winter’s encroaching chill turned the lake into an ice skating rink for the fillies and colts of Ponyville.

Since then, it’s become easier for you to come out of your shell and interact more with the local ponies. The differences between you have seemed to become less important, as stark and glaring as they are. But even so, you still enjoy your time with Applejack best, despite the fact that you’ve rarely gotten to see each other between all her responsibilities to her family farm, as well as all the running around she does with her friends, supposedly saving the world and whatnot.

At times, you wondered what it was that drew her to come fishing with you so often given her normally busy and exciting daily life. You’re not one for much conversation, and it’s not like she would actually eat the fish she caught, though she happily let you have them. But as the months drifted by, and through the little discussions you did have with one another, the answer eventually became clear:

It was the peace and quiet.

Out here on the lake, and around you, she doesn’t have to work hard and nothing is expected of her. There are no precocious little sisters to look after, no crazy friends’ schemes to try to rein in, no rodeos to win, no farm to maintain… heck, when the leaves are on the trees, it’s even hard to tell that Ponyville is just over the next hill.

And that’s why her answer to your question this morning was so simple, so succinct, and so true, at least in her own eyes. You disagree, but there’s no point in saying anything. It’s a conversation you’ve had before, and you’ve found that she’s quite a stubborn pony who won’t be easily swayed when her mind is made up. Yet you firmly believe that everyone needs to take the time to unwind, workaholic or not, and if these little fishing trips are the excuse she needs to do so, you’re happy to help, even if the taste of fish isn’t anywhere near as appealing as it used to be.

It’s for that reason that you were only mildly surprised that she accepted your invitation to come fishing this morning after declining earlier. Maybe on some level she realizes she needs this too, even if she can’t readily admit it to herself.

Several uneventful hours pass, and Applejack lets out another sigh that you feel through your shared contact. You can already tell that her mind is drifting to the farm and her responsibilities there, so it won’t be long until she speaks up and suggests that the two of you head back to shore. You know from experience that once those types of thoughts begin to take hold, the battle’s already over for her. To make matters worse, neither one of you has even had a single bite all morning, and a disturbance on the water’s surface as a fish rises to eat some piece of floating debris while completely ignoring your lines only adds insult to injury.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were mockin’ us,” Applejack grumbles.

You chuckle and start reeling in your line. “Yeah, maybe they are. I suppose we should call it a day, huh?”

“I suppose so,” she agrees, pulling her own line from the water with a flick of her tail.

Applejack returns to her seat after you’ve packed your gear, pulled up the anchor and retrieved the boat’s oars, giving you the space you’ll need to move your arms freely.

“They can mock us all they want, though,” you say. “I’ve got a secret weapon in the works for next time.”

The pony’s ears perk up and a hint of a smile appears. “Oh? A secret weapon, huh? Is this finally gonna be some’a that fancy ‘human ingenuity’ I keep hearin’ about?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

And with that, you guide the boat back to the dock, secure it to the pilings and start the process of unloading your gear. Applejack lingers nearby while you work, wearing a peaceful expression as she looks out across the lake. You can’t resist the urge to place a hand on her unusually hatless head to ruffle her mane once you’re ready to leave, which earns you something between a grunt and a giggle in addition to a playful swat from her tail.

“Y’know, one of the reasons I thought today might be a good day for fishing was because the water was so cold,” you tell her as you start down the dock. “I figured it might keep Pinkie from trying any of her usual pranks.”

Applejack chuckles. “Is that so? Well, I don’t think you’ll have much ta worry about when it comes ta Pinkie Pie for a right good while, Anon. She’ll have her hooves full with some other stuff real soon.”

“Really? I’ll look forward to the reprieve, then.”

The two of you continue along, side by side, until you reach the fork in the road where you usually part ways. Applejack turns to look up at you once more, though the kind smile she usually wears when you say goodbye is strangely absent.

“There’s some family business I have ta take care of, so I don’t think I’ll be able ta go fishin’ with ya for the time bein’, Anon. Still, thank ya kindly for invitin’ me today. I’m glad I came.”

You kneel down in front of her so that the two of you are eye to eye, offering her a hand.

“Any time, AJ. I hope it goes well. If you need anything, be sure to let me know, alright?”

She places a hoof in your palm, and the two of you shake, the unexpected strength behind her motions rattling you around a little like always.

“It’s a promise, sugarcube.”

The two of you part, and she turns and makes her way down the path toward the Acres. You watch her for a while, considering the events of the day, before eventually turning away to head back to your own modest home on the outskirts of town.
	
> 2 - Chores
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Applejack’s old saddlebags loosely flop against her sides as she canters back toward the Acres, eventually bothering her to the point that she stops in the middle of the road to fix them. The position of the sun is a reminder that she’s already running behind, which makes the troublesome task even more irritating than usual, and she quietly chastises herself for not asking Anon to adjust them for her when she had the chance.

Once the problem’s been solved, she’s back on her way, this time at a light gallop and with her head lowered to focus on the run. There’s no way around it— she really was being selfish when she decided to meet him this morning. Even though she woke up long before dawn to finish her packing and make sure everything would be ready to go, there were still things that needed to be done at home, and now her absence is no doubt causing her siblings to worry.

But there’s a funny thing about it all, the very thought of which causes an unbidden chuckle to rise in her throat as she dashes along the well-worn forest trail. For some strange reason, it’s hard to really bring herself to feel guilty about it this time, even if she knows she should. On any other day she might’ve stopped to ponder why that was, but there’s no way the schedule they decided on earlier would allow it now. Instead, she pushes those lingering thoughts away and diligently keeps up her pace, relishing the cool morning air in her lungs, the warm sun upon her back and the unfamiliar lightness in her step.

All too soon, she’s passed underneath the farm’s entrance gate, and her attention shifts to the loaded wagon parked in front of the main homestead. A quick turn and a somewhat too enthusiastic leap propel her inside the farmhouse, catching the two ponies seated at the kitchen table by surprise with her sudden entrance.

“There ya are! We were startin’ to get worried!” her little sister exclaims, placing her hooves on the table despite the numerous times she’s been told not to. Her older brother says nothing, but his stoic gaze conveys a similar message.

“C’mon now, I left y’all a note, didn’t I?” she asks after pausing a bit to catch her breath.

Apple Bloom hops down from the table, the note in question held securely in her mouth. “Yeah, and it said you’d be back over an hour ago! Where were ya, Sis?”

“Like I said in the note, I was out helpin’ a friend,” Applejack mumbles, retrieving her hat and red bands from the end table where she left them. She quickly wrestles her wild mane and tail into the usual plain pony-tails best suited for work on the farm, finishing up by placing her trademark Stetson upon her head. She shrugs her saddlebags off in the same motion, turning back just in time to be caught by her little sister’s inquisitive stare.

“Yeah, but at the crack of dawn? Who in Equestria needed your help that early, anyway?”

“Lake ice got carved up a few days back durin’ Winter Wrap-Up, remember?” comes a baritone reply from the kitchen table. Applejack shoots her brother a look which he promptly ignores to take another bite of his breakfast.

Apple Bloom blinks a few times. “Oh. So I guess you were out fishin’ with that strange hyooman fella Mr. Anon again? That’s mighty nice, but I don’t get it, Sis. Does he really need that many fish when winter’s already over?”

Applejack opens her mouth to answer…

“Oh, it ain’t just about the fish.”

…but another unwanted comment from the table beats her to the punch. The orange farmpony’s cheeks flush slightly as she promptly trots over and smacks her annoying brother in the head with her tail. She chooses to ignore the few low chuckles he tries to hide while she pours a bowl of oats for herself and takes a seat.

“That’s enough funny stuff out’a you this mornin’, ya big galoot! If you’ve got time ta be a smart aleck, you’ve got time ta tell me how we’re lookin’ so far with gettin’ ready. Can’t be much more left ta do, I reckon?”

Mac shakes his head. “Eenope. Ah found your gear down here already packed when ah woke up, so ah went ahead and loaded it on the wagon. That accounts for all of it, so once we’re done with breakfast we can head on out.”

“Well, that’s good ta hear. I was worried we’d be further behind,” Applejack says with a hint of relief.

“I already… packed all my stuff… too!” Apple Bloom grunts, dragging a large pack stuffed to the brim with assorted comics, toys, knickknacks and tools into the room.

Applejack and Big McIntosh turn their attention from their meals to their younger sibling, who smiles up at them like a puppy begging for table scraps. When she sees the frown starting to form on her older sister’s face, she quickly switches tactics from a hopeful grin to a doe-eyed look of pleading, as if she were about to burst into tears at any moment. Mac turns away, stifling his urge to laugh at her well-rehearsed act for fear of actually hurting her feelings, while Applejack merely shakes her head and lets out a tired sigh.

“Sugarcube, we’ve been over this. Ya can’t come with us.”

“But… but why?!” she whines. “I’m a big pony, and I’m an Apple too! I can help! I want to help!”

Applejack’s tone hardens. “We’ve already told ya why! The frontier ain’t no place for a filly!”

“Eeyup,” Mac agrees with a solemn nod.

“But… but…”

Applejack quickly hops down from her chair and pulls her little sister into a hug.

“Me, Mac and Granny all sat down before all this started and had a talk about it, and we decided that you’re just not old enough, Apple Bloom. We’re not tryin’ ta be mean to ya here, we just want ya ta be safe. It’s not that we don’t believe in ya, but there’s just too much that can go wrong out there.”

The filly pouts and looks away, partly tuning out the coming explanation that she’s heard a half-dozen times before.

“Reclaimin’ land from the wild forests at the frontier and turnin’ it inta fertile farmland ain’t that simple, especially this far away from any towns. It’s dangerous, and it takes a whole lotta knowhow and experience. Heck, that’s why they had ta call for Granny ta come out there a few weeks ago; she’s one’a the only ponies in the extended family who’s even done somethin’ like this before.”

Apple Bloom’s gaze wanders to the small table near the door and the open letter left there. She sniffles once and returns her big sister’s hug.

“And now Granny’s callin’ for you guys to go help out too, but not for me. It’s cause I don’t have my cutie mark yet, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Sugarcube, I don’t think it has anything ta do with that.” She smiles at her sister and ruffles her mane. “Ta be honest, I think all she wants is a pair’a strong backs ta haul stuff around out there. I don’t think either one’a us is exactly lookin’ forward ta it.”

“Eenope,” Mac eloquently adds with a shake of his head.

“Ya won’t be missin’ much, I promise. And we know you’re a big pony… do ya really think we’d be comfortable leavin’ the farm in your hooves for four or five days if ya weren’t?”

The filly blushes and pulls away. “Thanks, Sis. But… five days is a real long time. What am I gonna do? School’s out for spring break, but Sweetie’s travelin’ on vacation with her family and Scoots is doin’ that junior flyers camp thing with Rainbow Dash… it’s gonna be awful lonely around here.”

Applejack grins. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have much time ta be worryin’ about something like that.” She trots over to the fridge and pulls a roll of paper stuck there with a magnet free, where it quickly unfurls to become three times as long as it first appeared. “There’re plenty’a chores we’ll need ya ta take care of while we’re gone.”

Apple Bloom’s spirits sink at the sight of the huge list, but her sister ignores her change in attitude and pats her on the head with pride.

“See? We trust ya so much we’re givin’ ya all this responsibility! Ain’t that great?”

“Yeah… great.”

“And don’t you worry none,” she continues. “’Cause you won’t have ta do all of it alone. I’ve asked Pinkie Pie ta come by a few times throughout the week ta fix meals and ta help ya with some of the harder stuff. I reckon with the two of y’all workin’ together, you should be able ta finish up all this stuff by the time we get back. Oh, and you be sure not ta give her a hard time, ya hear?”

“Yes, Sis,” comes a dejected reply.

Applejack nods proudly. “Good. I guess we oughta be headin’ out before it gets too late in the day.” She turns to Mac, who downs the last of his oats and carries the empty bowls to the sink. “You about ready there, Mr. Comedian?”

“Eeyup.”

And with that, all three ponies step outside the farmhouse where the family wagon is waiting. Together, they start the process of hitching Mac to the wagon and diligently check one last time to make sure they have everything they need for the trip.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Applejack says, folding up the map and placing inside her hat. “The farm’s in your hooves ‘till we get back.”

“You can count on me!” the filly exclaims with a mock salute.

“I know I can, Lil Sis.” She reaches down again to ruffle Apple Bloom’s mane, prompting a half-giggle half-grunt from the smaller pony. “Oh, and before I forget, there’s one last thing we need ta do before we leave.”

Apple Bloom’s ears fold back and she starts to shy away. For some reason, she foolishly held on to the hope that maybe they’d forgotten this part…

“FAMILY HUG!”

Immediately, she finds herself lifted up and smushed between her two older siblings in a bone-breaking yet familiar show of affection.

“Be sure ta go ask Pinkie Pie if ya find out ya need anything, ya hear? Anything at all! And don’t forget ta write us at least once, either! It’ll take a day or so, but we’ll still get your letter at the settlement. We’re gonna miss ya!”

“Eeyup!”

“I… I won’t… forget…” she gasps.

Eventually, the two older ponies have mercy on their younger sister and let her go, likely due in some small part to the fact that she started turning blue near the end of the hug. The wagon’s wheels slowly turn as they finally get underway, though Applejack can’t resist looking back to wave goodbye two or three times, or at least until the wagon vanishes behind a bend in the road.

Apple Bloom takes a few moments to collect herself on the porch of the farmhouse once they’re out of sight. This isn’t the first time she’s been left alone, so the thrill she felt on those first few occasions is largely gone. Add to that the fact that her friends are also far away, and what should’ve normally resulted in at least an upbeat mood turns into something that could almost be called downright gloomy.

It seems so weird, but not even ten minutes have passed since Applejack and Big Mac left, and she’s already feeling a pang of loneliness in her chest. Why couldn’t they have taken her with them, again? Is it really that dangerous out there…?

“Well… I guess it doesn’t do any good to sit here mopin’ about it. Maybe I should start doin’ some of the stuff on that big ol’ list.”

With a slight sigh, she turns and heads back inside to do just that. If nothing else, the chores should at least help take her mind off things. The decision made, she squares her shoulders, stands tall just like her big sister would when there’s a job to be done, and starts down the list.

The morning hours pass by quickly as Apple Bloom resolutely goes about her chores, and while they do help to keep her mind occupied, they don’t do much to quiet the little nagging feeling of doubt that only seems to grow with each task she completes. A little past noon, she stops to take a break, heads to the kitchen, and hops up on the table where the list is still unfurled.

“Whew! Well, that’s done.” She wipes the sweat from her brow with a hoof, then picks up a nearby pencil and crosses yet another item off. “Now, what’s next…?”

She moves to read the next item, but something unexpected catches her attention and she jumps with surprise. Somehow, someway, a good two thirds of the items on the long list are already crossed off!

“The first day ain’t even half over yet and most’a this stuff is already done! Were these chores really supposed to last me almost a whole week?”

Out of curiosity, she scans through the remaining tasks, only to shake her head as that nagging doubt from the morning suddenly becomes undeniable.

“I knew it. It’s a long list, but all of the stuff on here is really easy. They didn’t trust me with doin’ anything tough or important by myself after all.”

She thinks back to all the running around her brother and sister did the day before, hurriedly trying to take care of all the large or critical tasks necessary to allow them to leave the farm for an extended period of time. They really did take care of everything major themselves, leaving only busywork for her.

The youngest Apple sibling sighs and slinks back in one of the kitchen chairs, her eyes cast down toward the floor. “Yeah, I should’ve known. Why would ya trust anything to some little filly who doesn’t even know what her special talent is?”

Unsurprisingly, asking the question to the empty kitchen doesn’t do much to lighten her mood. All the energy she had before is gone now, and despite her earlier declaration to the contrary, moping around suddenly seems like the best thing to do. She continues absentmindedly staring at the floor, not really focusing on anything and letting her mind wander…

“Is there something neat down there?”

…when a sudden question breaks the silence.

“W-Waaaaah!”

Apple Bloom nearly tumbles out of her chair with surprise. The old piece of furniture tilts dangerously on two legs for a few seconds while she quickly spins around to find the source of the sound, only to settle back on all fours again once she’s face to face with a familiar pink poofy mane and pair of questioning sapphire eyes.

“Pinkie Pie?!” 

“Cause, I mean, you’ve been staring at the floor for a while, but all I see is a rug. And some floorboards too, I guess. Oh… is there a funny pattern in the wood grain? That swirl kinda looks like a rabbit if you tilt your head!”

“I… uh, what?” Apple Bloom stammers. “No, I wasn’t lookin’ at anything in particular, I just—”

A mental warning siren immediately starts blaring in the filly’s head before the next word manages to escape.

Don’t tell her you were kinda bummed out! Don’t tell her you were kinda bummed out! If you do, she’ll throw some crazy party or somethin’ to try to cheer ya up and your whole afternoon’ll go out the window!

“I… was just thinkin’,” she continues, flashing the party pony a nervous smile. “Y’know, about farmpony stuff, and… and tryin’ to figure out what I wanted to tackle next from this list!”

She shakes her head to recompose herself while Pinkie peers over at the long piece of paper sprawled across the table. She even manages to feel a slight pang of pride at having the good sense to prevent what could’ve been a potential Pinkie-related detour from her duties.

“Wow, that’s a lot to do!” Pinkie exclaims. “It looks like you’re really, really busy right now, but do you think you could squeeze in just a liiiittle time for quiche between all this super-duper important farmpony stuff?”

She pulls a covered pot from behind her back, complete with potholders, and proudly holds it in her forehooves with a hopeful shimmer in her eyes. A tantalizing aroma quickly begins to flow throughout the kitchen, causing Apple Bloom’s stomach to rumble as soon as she gets a whiff of it.

“Oh, it is lunch time, isn’t it? Thanks, Pinkie Pie, that does sound great!” She hops up to go get some plates and utensils for the two of them while Pinkie safely sets the quiche on the table. “And, I… I really wouldn’t call any of this stuff important anyway, so I guess it can wait.”

“Fwot fwimpoant?” Pinkie asks as she swallows a bite of her meal. “Really? ‘Cause Applejack talked to me about a few of these things before she left, and they sure sounded important to her!”

Apple Bloom giggles, spooning a good amount of food for her own plate. “Everything sounds important when she talks about stuff needin’ to be done around here, but if it really, truly was, she would’a done it herself already. You know how she is.”

“Yep, yep!” Pinkie agrees. “And sometimes she bites off more than she can chew!” She proceeds to swallow another large helping of quiche which immediately gets stuck in her throat, though a quick gulp of water helps force the food down. The filly flashes a look of concern at the spastic party pony, but she promptly ignores it, instead pulling the list closer to inspect it again.

“But wowsers, this is crazy! Did you really do all these chores this morning all on your own? I mean… I was supposed to help you with some of these, and Applejack said it was supposed to take most of the week!”

Apple Bloom blinks. “Well… most of ‘em were really easy, and I sorta just started knockin’ ‘em out without really thinking about it until just before you showed up.”

“Yeesh! At this rate you’ll be all done by this afternoon! I guess there’s nothing wrong with that, but what’re you going to do for the rest of the week? Oh, I bet you’ve got something fun planned, huh?”

“Well… I really hadn’t thought about it,” Apple Bloom admits, her ears drooping. “I mean, crusadin’ wouldn’t feel right without Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo around, so that’s out.”

“Well, what about your other friends from school? Couldn’t you hang out with them?”

An image of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon quickly flashes through Apple Bloom’s mind and she fights back a dry heave. “Uh… no, I think they’re probably busy anyway. Almost everypony I know is takin’ a trip or doin’ something with their families for spring break…”

The filly sighs again, and Pinkie notices that she’s halfway slumped in her chair with the same partially-dejected look she had when she first arrived. A steady silence fills the room, and the party pony taps a hoof to her chin and ponders for several moments, the gears in her head whirring, before suddenly perking back up, eyes shimmering with mischief.

“Hey, I know just the thing!” she exclaims, reaching over to pat Apple Bloom on the head a few times. “Don’t you worry, your Auntie Pinkie Pie’s got it all figured out!”

“…Wait, what?”

“C’mon, let’s go, go, go!” Pinkie yells, bounding out the door, totally ignoring the question and gesturing for Apple Bloom to follow her all at once. The filly sighs and rolls her eyes, resigning herself to the fact that she’s going to get pulled into whatever craziness Pinkie Pie has planned whether she likes it or not.

“What was that sayin’ Applejack always said Pa used to tell her? ‘When the twister’s already on top of ya, there’s no point in runnin’ and hidin’ from it’, right?”

She dutifully places the leftovers in the fridge, gives one last glance to the mostly finished list of chores, and then heads for the door.

“Sometimes, I guess you just have to let the wind carry ya…”

Joining her self-proclaimed aunt on the porch, she follows the older pony as she hops toward Ponyville proper, humming a tune and wearing a smile that despite all the trouble it sometimes brings, magically never fails to drive any lingering gloomy feelings away.
	
> 3 - Guests
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Another strong, chilly breeze sails past you, winding its way between the trees that line the lonely trail that leads from Ponyville proper to your house on the outskirts of town. You look up to watch the still-bare tree branches sway with the wind. The countless buds that’ll eventually sprout into leaves are distinctly visible everywhere, but it doesn’t seem like the small forest surrounding your home has any intention of blossoming for another week or so.

It seems that winter will keep its hold here for just a little longer, but that’s fine. It’s even comforting in a way. ‘Everything in its own time’, after all.

You still haven’t gotten used to the whole thing with these little ponies having control over the weather and the seasons. Something about it just never felt quite right, so when the ponies built a home for you, you wondered whether the forest and land around it could be left to its own devices to let nature take its course. You barely mentioned that thought in passing during one of your conversations with AJ, but just like that your request was quickly relayed to and then granted by the rulers of the land.

To be honest, you never expected they’d say yes, because at the time what you were asking for seemed frivolous and unreasonable. When it actually happened, the change you observed in the land was remarkable. Now it feels like your forest is a little slice of Earth in this strange new world, and it’s an unbelievably reassuring feeling. To your further surprise, the Princesses even sent a very kind letter telling you that if you needed anything else to feel more at home in Equestria, you could relay the request to them through the purple unicorn living in the nearby town’s library at any time.

The small, two-story home appears before you as you make your way around the bend in the trail, prompting you to shake your head and sigh.

“Anything else… as if the free home and monthly stipend weren’t enough.”

One day you’ll find a way to give something back. Maybe the Princesses understand that as well, which might explain why they’ve been so accommodating.

You unlock the door and carry your shopping bags inside the house. The groceries are deposited in the kitchen to be put away shortly while the other things are left in your ‘work room’, as you’ve come to call it.

Despite being a small home, it’s still much too big for a single person to live in, so you ended up with one or two rooms that just don’t get all that much use. It wasn’t until long after you moved in that you realized this room actually has the best view in the house. A sturdy, level work table and chairs are positioned in front of the room’s single large bay window which frames the edge of the forest and the open field that lies just beyond. It allows the room to be bright, but not blinding at all times of day, so it’s no wonder it’s recently come into use as your preferred place to sit down and write your memoirs. Just like that, the unused room suddenly gained a purpose, even if something like writing for your own pleasure doesn’t really match your definition of ‘work’.

After setting the remaining items down, you take a moment to admire the view once again. Since the surrounding forest’s leaves haven’t come in yet, there’s not much to get in the way of your view of the field. The short grass which covers it is already regaining its vibrant green coloration now that the snow’s melted, and it won’t be long before the spring rains will cause it to really grow in. You stop and wonder whether or not it’d be worth it to mow when the time comes. It’s technically on your land, but since your neighbors are all little horses, wouldn’t it be better to leave it for them to graze if they wanted? Wait, do they even do that? And is there a good way to ask without accidentally insulting someone?

The grumbling of your stomach thankfully interrupts that train of thought and prompts you to return to the kitchen. The groceries still need to be put away, and it’s nearing lunchtime as well…

Several hours pass as you go about your daily chores. A quick lunch is prepared and eaten, the dishes done, the laundry from earlier brought in, and the offset hinge of your bedroom door fixed. It’s kind of funny… when you were a child, chores were an annoyance that you were certain you’d never have to deal with again after you had grown and there were no longer any adults who could boss you around. Oh, how wrong you were about that one!

By mid-afternoon the chores are finished, and you can finally allow yourself a reward for a job well done. You return to the work room and unpack the supplies you bought earlier in the day, spreading them neatly upon the table. Sturdy but light wooden dowel rods from the carpentry store, durable nylon fabric from the town’s seamstress (with multiple colors provided for free per her insistence), heavy duty tape, scissors, ruler, spools of guide line, pink pony…

“Hiya, Non-non!”

To your credit, you didn’t scream, nor did you freak out, nor did you even think to question how or why you just randomly pulled Pinkie Pie out from a bag of supplies that should be far too small to actually hold her. There’d be no real point to it, because there’s no real answer, nor will there ever be. Much like the other oddities of this world, it’s just something you’ve come to accept with time.

You’re honestly not too surprised to see her today, especially since you’ve been overdue for a visit from the Pink Menace. What does manage to surprise you, though, is the very freaked-out passenger you discover dangling from one of her back hooves as you lift her completely out of the bag.

“Pinkie Pie and… AJ’s little sister? What in the world…?”

“What the…?! W-Where the heck are we?” the filly asks with a trembling voice, her eyes darting all around. “How did we get here? One minute we’re walkin’ down the road and… and I had my eyes open the entire time and I still don’t know what happened!”

She slides from Pinkie’s rear hoof to fall a few inches to the floor with a thump, after which you waste no time in plopping the pink pony on the floor next to her. They’re soon both on their hooves again, Pinkie wearing that smile of hers that never fails to make you nervous and Apple Bloom still looking dazed.

Pinkie giggles and pats the smaller pony on the head. “Aw, try not to think about it too much. It’ll stop you from getting a headache later!”

“I… I think it’s already too late for that,” Apple Bloom groans, rubbing her forehead and falling back on her haunches.

Well, this afternoon’s certainly taken an odd turn, and there’s no telling what sort of insanity awaits you now that Pinkie’s here. It’s not that you dislike her; on the contrary, she’s been an amazing friend. But you’ve come to find that she’s a pony best experienced in small doses whenever possible, and best avoided whenever she’s scheming something. Apple Bloom’s presence seems to point to a scheme being the purpose of her visit, especially since your time here has taught you that often times there are indeed methods to the Pink One’s madness.

You cross your arms, stare down at the pink puffball and bite the bullet. “Well, I suppose it’s good to know I’m not the only one you have that effect on. I’m probably gonna regret asking this, but what are you doing in my house? Do I even want to know?”

“We were bored!” Pinkie cheers, as if coming to see you would be the most natural thing in the world for anyone to do in order to drive their boredom away. She sounds so sincere that you’d almost feel flattered if you didn’t know her better.

“Then you’ve come to the wrong place, because I’m not exactly the most entertaining person around. Actually, come to think of it, isn’t that sort of thing your job? And I’m kind of in the middle of something right now, so—”

“Oh, is this your house, Mr. Anon?” the now recovered Apple Bloom asks, spinning around a few times to take in the scene. “Neat! I’ve never seen it from the inside before. It’s… kinda empty, huh?”

“Well, maybe you would’ve seen more stuff if you’d come in through the front door like normal people.”

Your statement draws some odd looks from your uninvited guests, prompting you to rub your eyes and sigh upon realizing your mistake.

“Ponies. Normal ponies. You know what I mean. So, is there anything I can help you guys with? Like I was trying to say earlier, I’m working on something right now, so I really don’t have time for any visitors.”

The smaller pony’s ears fold back with guilt and she looks away, but Pinkie is quick to sidle next to her and cheer her up.

“Aw, don’t pay too much attention to what Non-non says.” She leans in, her voice dropping to an almost-whisper that’s still really easy for you to hear. “Even though he acts like a grumpy goose sometimes, I promise he’s really funny and nice and he’s secretly super-duper excited to have company~!”

You roll your eyes. That’s typical, oblivious Pinkie Pie all right. She sits in the middle of the room with a big dopey grin on her face while Apple Bloom curiously glances back and forth between you both.

“A goose? But I thought he was a hyooman or somethin’? At least that’s what Applejack keeps sayin’…”

The look of genuine confusion on the little pony’s face almost causes you to laugh, and you make a conscious effort resist the urge since it would only encourage your hyperactive pink trespasser. At once you’re reminded of another trait that the ponies of this world and humans share— that being the fact that young children tend to take things literally most of the time. It’s truly astonishing just how many things your two species have in common, which might even explain why your little slip of the tongue just a few moments earlier felt so natural. The more time you spend among them, the more your differences seem to vanish, and thanks to your time spent with a certain golden-maned farmpony, you know that you’re not the only one who holds that view.

But the little filly whose own golden irises now consider you intently certainly hasn’t had the time or opportunity to learn anything like that. To her, you’re still an oddity; a curious thing that’s suddenly appeared at the periphery of her life. Though you’ve met AJ’s immediate family, Apple Bloom included, several times during parties and other gatherings to which you were invited, you’ve never spent any significant amount of time getting to know them outside of polite conversation. It doesn’t help that her brother’s not really the talkative type, and her grandmother’s more likely to go off on a tangent and ramble about the good old days than stick to any particular topic for long.

On every occasion you’ve spoken with this particular little pony in the past, she’s been in the company of two of her peers, and the three of them understandably became more interested in playing together and having fun than chatting with you. It’s no surprise that the novelty of speaking with a weird freaky creature from another world would wear off once the secret came out that you were just another boring adult.

Pinkie opens her mouth to reply, but your hand quickly moves to clamp her muzzle shut. The last thing you need is a rumor going around town that you really are a giant goose or something…

“It’s human, actually. I’m fairly certain I’m not a goose or any other type of bird. I’m closer to a monkey or an ape than anything, despite what Pinkie says.”

Apple Bloom giggles while Pinkie pouts at the fact that you put the brakes on her attempt to keep her impromptu prank rolling at your expense.

“And speaking of AJ, you never really answered my question from earlier. Why’re the two of you here? She told me this morning that there was some sort of important family business going on… does it have something to do with that?”

Apple Bloom’s ears immediately droop again, and you start to wonder if you’ve accidentally stumbled your way into some kind of touchy subject. Yet before a somber mood can descend upon the room, Pinkie springs into action. She bounds over and sits next to the filly, puffing her chest out with a look of pride.

“Applejack and Big Mac left to help some of the Apples with a new settlement, so they put Apple Bloom here in charge of the farm!”

Apple Bloom’s mood brightens with the pink pony’s sudden enthusiasm, prompting her to adopt a similarly confident pose. “Eeyup, that’s right!”

Ah, so now the pieces are falling into place. AJ also said that Pinkie’d be busy throughout the week, so that must mean…

“So I take it you’re babysitting, then?” you ask her.

“N-Nuh uh!” Apple Bloom gasps. “Didn’t ya hear what she said? I don’t need a foalsitter ‘cause I’m a big pony!” She stomps a hoof and flashes you a challenging stare for daring to question her maturity.

You have to stop yourself from laughing, as it stirs some funny memories from your life back on Earth. As a show of goodwill, you hold your hands up and lean back to admit your mistake, forgetting to consider whether your body language would even hold the same meaning to her or not.

“Yep, yep!” Pinkie agrees, nodding her head up and down. “She’s taking care of the farm all by herself! Well, mostly all by herself, I guess. I’m helping by doing the cooking, and I was gonna help with the chores too but she took care of most of them already! Neat, huh? I stopped by Sweet Apple Acres on my lunch break to deliver some quiche and then we got to talking while we were eating and then Apple Bloom said that she didn’t really have anything fun to do while her family was away and then I thought to myself, ‘Hey Pinkie Pie, who’s the most funny, funnest, fun-tacular human around, even if he sometimes pretends to be super-duper grumpy and not fun?’, and then I thought, ‘Oh, yeah! It’s gotta be Non-non!’. But first we had to go get some ice cream, ‘cause who doesn’t love ice cream, am I right? And then we ran into—”

It never fails to amaze you how long she can talk without having to breathe. You’ve already completely lost track of what she’s saying, or even what question you asked that prompted this overly long answer in the first place, so your mind just latches on to the first coherent detail from within the sing-songy stream of words that you can potentially use to interrupt her train of thought and put an end to it.

“Wait a minute, your lunch break? Uh, Pinkie, it’s almost three in the afternoon. Just how long does your break last?”

A heavy silence descends upon the room as Pinkie instantly goes quiet. Her large sapphire eyes stare unblinkingly at the clock hanging on the far wall. Her ever-present smile is gone now, replaced by a neutral almost-frown, and several beads of sweat travel down her brow as she lightly trembles in place. This whole change in behavior is so shocking that you feel compelled to ask her if she’s alright, but the disturbing creaking sound coming from her neck as she slowly turns back toward you and Apple Bloom quickly shuts you up.

She blinks once, breathes out, breathes in again, and then leaps into the air, an explosion of streamers and confetti erupting from somewhere inside her mane and tail.

“HOLY MOLEY I’M IN SO MUCH TROUBLE RIGHT NOW I’VE GOTTA GO I’LL SEE YOU GUYS LATER BYE!”

And with that she quickly pivots, her hooves rev up into a spinning blur of pink, and she bolts out of the room. It takes several seconds before your brain is able to process what just happened, so by the time you actually move to chase after her, she’s already out the front door and bounding into the distance, a huge trail of dust left in her wake.

“Wait, Pinkie! What about Apple Bloom?!” you yell after her, even though you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that she’s not coming back. You turn away from the hopeless scene with an exasperated sigh. “Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. I don’t know why this stuff even surprises me anymore, but it always does.”

The filly joins you at the front door and giggles. “Aw, cheer up, Mr. Anon. I mean, look at the bright side! At least she used the front door, right?”

Her comment catches you off guard, and you can’t help but laugh at the resulting mental image of what a Pinkie-shaped hole in your wall would look like. It really doesn’t seem like a far-fetched situation, so you are thankful that you won’t have to add another home repair to your to-do list.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll count my blessings.”

With a shake of your head, you move to close the door when the sudden realization sets in that you still have a guest to tend to. Normally when Pinkie zooms away after one of her visits, you’re left alone with your thoughts, but the small filly standing by your side is a stark reminder that this time’s a little different.

“Hey, Apple Bloom, I’m sorry I was so short with you before.” You give her an apologetic smile. “It was rude of me, and it was definitely no way to treat a relative of a good friend. Pinkie may have left you behind, but if you’d like, I’d be happy to walk you back to the farm.”

She takes a moment to consider your offer, the bow in her mane swaying a bit in the breeze filtering through the open door. She looks down the forest path leading from your home for a while, then seems to come to a decision, her eyes meeting yours.

“Thank ya kindly, Mr. Anon, but I can make it home just fine on my own.”

Not a surprising answer. She definitely made a big show earlier of trying to be independent, after all.

“But, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to stay here for a mite longer. I won’t get in the way of your work, I promise. D’ya think that would be alright?”

…But what came next was definitely a surprise. A moment’s consideration fails to produce any valid reasons to deny her, and oddly enough, you even start to warm up to the idea. Maybe Pinkie’s right… maybe it would be nice to have some company today.

“Well, as long as you promise to go home before dark, I don’t see why not. Independent as you may be, if your big sister found out I let you walk home alone at night I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right about that. You’ve got a deal!” Apple Bloom declares.

She holds out her hoof to shake, and you kneel down to return the gesture. She puts a surprising amount of strength into it, especially considering her size, leaving no doubt in your mind that she is indeed AJ’s little sister.

“But can I ask why?” you inquire after the deal is done. “I think I already mentioned this, but I’m not the most interesting person around. I’m sure you’d have much more fun playing with your friends than wasting your afternoon with me.”

The filly looks away, slightly embarrassed. “Well, maybe. But to be honest, the way my sister talks about ya sometimes, she makes you sound like you’re the cat’s pajamas! So, I figure since I’m here… I guess I kinda wanna see why.”

“Hmmm… AJ’s been talking me up, huh?” You rub your chin, feigning an exaggerated a look of contemplation. “I see. Well, I guess I’d better live up to my reputation then, whatever that happens to be.”

Your antics draw another big smile and a slight giggle from your guest. She trots off toward the living room at your insistence to make herself at home, and you close the front door to keep the chilly spring breeze at bay before following after her.
	
> 4 - On Fishing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	It was quickly decided that the first order of business would be to retrieve the package of cookies you bought at the market earlier in the day, along with two glasses and some milk from the fridge to make for a light afternoon snack. Afterwards, and upon Apple Bloom’s repeated insistence that you not do anything special on her account, you returned to the work room to get started on the project you were about to tackle before Pinkie’s sudden, yet annoyingly routine physics-defying intrusion.

Your guest hops up into the seat of the chair you pulled over for her, giving her the boost in height she needs to see the contents of your work table. Her golden eyes, darting from one item to the next, and her somewhat-funny contemplative stare leaves little doubt that she’s trying very hard to guess what it is you have planned. The temptation to tease her is hard to resist, so you choose to hum a little tune from back home while you reach out to organize your supplies instead of spilling the beans just yet.

First come two dowel rods set parallel to one another vertically at the table’s edge. Next to that, four rods are placed, two forming a plus sign, and two more running diagonally between the far points of its upper half. Finally, you place two more rods to the right of the first two groups, this time using different sized ones to make a traditional cross shape. Satisfied that the three basic patterns are good, you reach over to retrieve a spool of the nylon fabric, stretching it over the first set of rods to make an estimation of how much you’ll need to cut…

And then, out of the blue, Apple Bloom rears up in her chair.

“I get it! They’re kites! You’re makin’ a bunch’a kites, aren’t ya, Mr. Anon?”

The sudden shift from relative silence to excited shouting takes you by surprise. You pause for a second to regain your senses, just in time to watch as she slams her forehooves on the table to maintain her balance, knocking every single one of the carefully placed rods askew.

You sigh internally. Pinkie’s visits notwithstanding, your home out here on the edge of town is usually very peaceful and quiet. You certainly haven’t had to deal with loud, hyperactive children, pony or not, for many years now, and the situation brings a variety of mostly unpleasant memories to mind. You open your mouth to tell her to calm down, only to be taken by yet another surprise.

Your eyes meet, and you’re struck by her expectant look as she waits for your answer. Eyes shimmering, a hopeful smile… it’s a picture of innocence that no amount of anger or annoyance could possibly stand against. Your intended admonishment dies before even the first syllable can be spoken, so instead, you smile back at her and answer, “That’s right.”

“I knew it!” she cheers, though her joyful mood is quick to fade to confusion as she returns to her seat. “But wait… Mr. Anon, you’re a grownup, and you aren’t takin’ care of any foals, right?”

You chuckle. “Yeah, I’ve been accused of being a grownup once or twice before. And no, it’s just me here most of the time.”

“Well, why are you makin’ kites, then? Isn’t that kinda… kid’s stuff?” She rubs her chin with a hoof, pondering her own question. “Or maybe it’s your special talent, and you’re gonna sell ‘em? Yeah, that has to be it!”

“My special talent?” you ask with a hearty laugh. “No, I don’t think so; I haven’t done anything like this in years and I’m only working from my really hazy memory here.” You turn back to the table, returning the scattered dowel rods to their previous patterns. “Yes, I’m building some kites, but not for the reason you’re probably thinking. They’re going to be special, because they’re not meant to be flown in a field on a sunny day or anything; they’re tools to help me with my fishing.”

“You’re gonna go fishing… with a kite?” she questions in disbelief.

“Well… yes and no. The kite doesn’t do the fishing directly, but it does help with the process. Here, maybe it’d be easier to explain if I showed you.”

You retrieve your pen and tear a blank page from the journal sitting on the desk by the window. After placing the paper upon the table where Apple Bloom can easily see it, you start to draw a picture.

“You still have a normal fishing rod, complete with a line, bait, sinker and float.”

A crudely drawn boat appears on the page, along with a stick figure in the shape of a human standing at the stern. In his hands is a fishing rod, its line cast into the water, with all the individual pieces labeled.

“But with kite fishing, it gets a little more complex. Now we add a second fishing rod, usually shorter, but instead of all the normal stuff you’d find on it, its line runs to a kite flying in the sky behind the boat.”

A kite appears in the sky overhead, along with some clouds and an oversized sun shining above. A second line is added to the boat’s stern to which the kite is attached. You finish by adding a smiley face and some sunglasses on the sun, causing the filly by your side to giggle.

“But here’s the key part. The two lines – the fishing line and the kite’s line – are joined together by a drop line that runs between them. There’s also some other stuff, like a stopper to make sure the drop line doesn’t slide too far down the kite line, a swivel piece to stop the lines from getting tangled up, and some sort of release to disconnect the fishing line from the kite line once a fish gets hooked so the kite doesn’t get dragged underwater, but that’s the basic gist of it. Neat, huh?”

“Wow, it sure is fancy!” Apple Bloom exclaims, reviewing the finished drawing once the last few pieces are in place. “But I don’t get it, Mr. Anon, why do you need all this extra stuff? Ain’t just a usin’ a normal fishin’ line good enough?”

You move the pen and paper aside, then pull another chair over so you can sit next to her at the table. With a wistful sigh, you place an elbow on the wooden surface, rest your chin in your open palm and stare out the large window toward the sunny field beyond the trees.

“Yeah, you’re right. A normal line would be good enough. In fact, it has been good enough to fish out on the lake here. I’m sure with enough patience I could make do with the gear I have already. But I’ll let you in on the little secret as to why I’m doing this, and it’s even something we have in common…”

You watch with some amusement as Apple Bloom’s eyes widen. There’s little doubt that she’s hanging on to your every word, wondering what in the world she could have in common with a creature so different from herself. You continue to glance out the window, and she places her hooves on the table once more, gently this time, to maneuver herself into a position where she can see you face to face and urge you to continue.

Smiling at her eagerness, you close your eyes and state simply, “I’m bored.”

Poor Apple Bloom nearly falls off her chair in disbelief, but a helping hand upon her back steadies her.

“You’re… you’re doin’ all this because you’re bored?” She shakes her head and laughs. “Wow, Applejack was right, you are a funny fella, aren’t ya?”

“Yeah, I suppose I can be a little silly sometimes. But the truth of the matter is that I’ve had a lot of time on my hands since I was brought here and not a lot of ways to fill it. When I went fishing this morning and came back empty-handed, I started thinking about the few times I went kite fishing back on Earth and figured it might be fun to try it again, if only as a way to pass the time.”

Apple Bloom leans back in her chair, tapping a hoof as she ponders your answer. You take the opportunity to turn your attention back to the gathered supplies, using your ruler to start measuring and marking where you’ll need to cut the wooden rods and fabric. She watches closely as you work, somewhat amused by your dexterity as you carefully cut each piece to size.

“Well… I reckon that does make sense,” she admits, breaking the silence. “But you never really told me how all this stuff even helps ya catch fish. In the end you’re still holdin’ on to a fishing pole like normal, right? How does it make any difference?”

You set the scissors aside and step back to check your work so far, finding it to be satisfactory.

“Oh, you’re right. Yeah, there is a point to this beyond just being a fun diversion. Kite fishing can help you cast a line out further than you normally could, or fish in areas you normally couldn’t reach. But the main benefit, and the one I’m most interested in, is the fact that the motion of the kite as it sails in the wind transfers to the bait on the fishing line, which makes it more attractive to the fish in the lake.”

“Oh, I get it!” Apple Bloom beams. “So, it’s like a real fancy lure or somethin’?”

“Something like that. It really should increase my chances of making a catch. And I was sort of hoping to impress AJ with a little example of human ingenuity too, though don’t tell her I said that.”

You turn and give her a knowing wink with that comment, which draws out another smile from your guest, then focus back on cutting out the fabric patterns. In the meantime, Apple Bloom reaches over and pulls the discarded pen and paper from where it was left at the table’s edge and carefully starts drawing while you work.

About a minute passes before you realize what she’s up to, and you turn your attention back to her just as she pulls away from the page. Though the original drawing you made is mostly the same, a pony with an unmistakable Stetson hat has been added standing next to the stick figure human on the little boat.

“It was missin’ something,” she says.

You smile softly. “Yeah, it was.”

She pauses to place the pen down, then looks to you once more with those curious golden eyes.

“Mr. Anon, why do you spend so much time with my sister?”

She asks the question innocently, in that childlike way that always compels you to attempt an answer even if one doesn’t always come easily. You pause for a moment to consider your reply, only meeting her inquisitive stare when you’re ready to speak.

“I do spend a lot of time with AJ, don’t I?”

She nods. “Yeah, when she’s not out with her friends or busy workin’, it seems like all she does is talk about ya.”

“She was the first real friend I made after I was brought here,” you explain fondly. “It’s tough to describe, but the reason for that is because we found out that we have a lot of things in common.”

“You mean like fishin’?”

You chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose. But to be honest, our time out on the lake really isn’t about the fish.”

Her snout scrunches up and she turns away, seemingly lost in thought for a few moments, before asking, “What d’ya mean? Y’all still catch fish when you’re out there, right?”

“On a good day we’ll definitely snag a few. But the real reason we go fishing together is because it gives us time to talk and listen to one another… or time to say nothing at all, depending on how things go.”

The filly furrows her brow. “Huh? I understand enjoyin’ talking to a friend, but enjoyin’ not talking too? I don’t get it.”

“Yeah. Sometimes people, or ponies, need time to just enjoy the quiet in the company of another.” You scratch your head and offer her an apologetic smile. “I hate to say it, but this might be one of those things that you won’t really understand until you’re a little older.”

To your surprise, Apple Bloom’s mood suddenly sours and she turns away, muttering, “Not until I’m older, huh? I guess you really are alike.”

Her attention becomes drawn to a random spot on the floor, and your own smile falters when you hear the slight hint of bitterness in her whispered tone. Your time in Equestria and around Applejack has taught you that her laid-back ears are a sign that something’s upset her, even to the point that the bow tied in her mane seems to droop with sadness. The sight of her distress bothers you deeply enough that before you realize what’s happening, you’re reaching out with a hand and straighten the bow, offering a comforting scratch behind her ears for good measure.

Apple Bloom giggles at the playful touch, which seems to pull her away from the feeling of gloominess that almost settled over her. Though you try to move your hand away as soon as you recognize what you’re doing, she quickly shifts her head to follow your fingers, silently asking for more scratches, to which you happily oblige.

Several minutes pass, and eventually you’re able to reclaim your fingers from her somewhat rough and tangled red mane. When you both lean back in your respective chairs, you notice that her expression has changed, and now she’s giving you quite the funny stare. It’s a nostalgic one, too. It definitely reminds you of your first meeting, because she’s looking at you like she’s seeing you for the very first time, and after blinking a few times to clear her head, her smile returns.

“…Thanks, Mr. Anon. You really are a nice pon— er, person, just like Applejack said.”

You smile. “You’re welcome. It’s good to hear that I’m living up to my reputation.”

And with that, you return to your work, or at least try to, but the silent room that you usually find so peaceful now holds a certain sense of loneliness which you can’t seem to shake. As odd as it may seem, you find that you’ve come to miss the sound of the little pony’s voice.

“Y’know, you may not believe this, but I’m smarter than I look, and I think I might understand what you’re going through, if you’d ever like to talk about it with someone.”

You speak the words without thinking, and immediately wonder if you’ve overstepped your bounds when your guest looks away with turned back ears once again…

“I… It’s just… I just wish she’d treat me like a big pony instead of actin’ like I’m a helpless little filly all the time.”

…But through some miracle, she actually decides to open up. The relief of not having to sit through more uneasy silence is quickly washed away by an unexpected sense of happiness that she trusts you on some level, and then the nervous hope that your advice will be able to help in some way.

“When we’re young, it seems like all we want to do is grow up faster,” you say after a few moments. “I suppose that’s true for almost everyone. We can’t wait for the day that we can stand on our own and proclaim our independence. But there’s a saying we have back on Earth, ‘Everything in its own time’. Do you know what that means?”

She shakes her head. “No, not really.”

You set your supplies aside and glance out the window, watching the trees sway and the glass panes rattle as a sudden, strong breeze rolls over the field.

“…It means that there are things in life that’ll happen as a matter of course. Spring will follow winter, and day will follow night. And in your case, a little filly will eventually grow up and strike out on her own. There’s no need to rush into it, and there’s no need to try and force it, because it’ll happen in due time whether you want it to or not.”

“So, you’re sayin’ I need to be patient?” she grumbles, looking away again. “That’s nice and all, Mr. Anon, but it doesn’t help. It feels like everypony tells me that, but I still want it to happen now, even if I know they’re probably right.”

You offer her an apologetic smile. “You’ve heard it all before, huh? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised about that. Sorry for sounding like a broken record; I know you and AJ must’ve had this talk a few times already. But maybe I can make it up to you by telling you something you might not have heard from her.”

The filly’s curiosity is instantly piqued, and she turns her attention toward you once again.

“No matter how old you become, and no matter big you get, you’ll always be AJ’s little sister. Even when you find your talent, even when you become successful, even when you set out on your own and find your place in the world, that’ll still be true. You can’t outgrow it. I guess… it’s sort of like a selective blindness that parents and older siblings can get sometimes, especially if there’s a big age difference between them. They’ll still feel that urge to baby you, even after you’ve had kids of your own!”

Apple Bloom’s eyes widen in shock. “R-Really?! So there’s nothin’ I can do?!”

“Well, it’s not the end of the world!” you reassure her with a little laughter. “I know it can get overbearing at times, but she acts that way because she loves and cares about you. And in a way, that’s the very reason why she sometimes can’t help it. When that happens, or when it gets to be too much, you just need to give her a little nudge and let her know to back off a bit. I know she can be kind of stubborn, but she should get the picture eventually.”

“’K-Kinda stubborn’?” The filly slumps in her seat in disbelief. “Mr. Anon, have you ever met my sister?”

And it’s at that point you can’t hold back, and you burst out laughing. Partly because truer words were never spoken, and partly because the look of pure exasperation on her face in that moment was somehow just too adorable for words. Your laughter eventually draws out her own, and the two of you share a moment as newfound comrades-in-arms… veterans of the often-times immovable mountain that is Applejack.

“Seriously, though,” you gasp, your laughter finally dwindling. “I understand how she is, but at least give it a try, and be patient with her. It might not happen on the first, or even the tenth try, but if you keep it up, I’m sure the message’ll get through.”

“I’ll try, Mr. Anon,” she giggles. “And even if it doesn’t end up workin’, thanks for tryin’ to help me all the same.”

You shake your head, fighting to clear the last of the laughter out of your system.

“Anytime. And hey, since I helped you, maybe you can help me with something.” Her ears perk up as you gesture to the table. “If you’re not too busy today, would you like to help me put all these kites together?”

“A-Are you sure?” she asks, her voice a mix of enthusiasm and trepidation. “I mean, I can try, but I dunno if I’ll be any good at it.”

You offer her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’m any kind of expert, either, and no one expects you to be perfect at something on your first try. C’mon, we can be bad to mediocre at this together!”

She answers with a big grin and a hearty cheer, and the two of you immediately get to work.
	
> 5 - The Field
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The next day finds you watching the brightening morning sky from the comfort of your home instead of the dock by the lake. Though you can tell the breeze is just as strong as yesterday by the swaying of the bare trees outside, not having to actually experience the cold is nice, and the warm cup of coffee sitting on the desk near the window is an added bonus.

With a yawn, you lean back in your chair, close your journal and set it aside. You have the rest of your life to fill it with old stories, and right now the sight of the newly-returned robins and cardinals flittering from branch to branch is much more interesting. Even if you can’t exactly watch the sunrise from the west-facing window of your work room, the signs of the beautiful day to come are evident upon everything you can see, be it the birds scavenging for their breakfast, the glimmering dew clinging to the waving grass of the field, the streaks of light that now paint the trunks of the trees or the fast-moving pink and gold clouds overhead…

You take another sip of coffee and smile. Fast-moving clouds, huh? It seems like the two of you’ll have quite the day ahead.

On the work table in the middle of the room lie three finished kites, each of a different design. On the left, a rather simple and boxy forest-green sled. In the middle, a surprisingly sturdy-looking orange delta. And on the right, the traditional deep blue diamond, complete with tail, that everyone always pictures first when somebody says the word ‘kite’. While each one isn’t what you'd call a shining example of what a kite should be, they’re all reasonably well-made and, in your estimation, should fly with little trouble on a day like today.

Your eyes settle on the tail of the diamond draped over the table’s edge, and you shake your head. Not picking up any ribbon from Rarity yesterday was a bit of an oversight, but it still got a tail nonetheless— an unfurled and cut pink bow offered by your partner-in-crime, or perhaps more truthfully your partner in staving off boredom. At first you weren’t comfortable with using it on something that may very well end up tangled in a branch at the top of some tree, but she insisted she had hundreds more like it at home, so onto the frame it went, even if the material isn’t ideal and the color somewhat clashes with the kite itself. Still, it marks this kite in particular as something that you made together, and for that reason it’s your favorite of the bunch.

“Who would’ve thought…?” you end up mumbling to yourself, leaning back in your chair to stare at the ceiling.

Yeah, yesterday was odd to be sure. When Pinkie popped up out of nowhere and suddenly dumped AJ’s little sister on you, you were somewhat peeved. But the more time you spent with Apple Bloom, the more you realized that your initial impressions of her from your scant few encounters at various Apple family gatherings were a little off base. Sure, she’s impulsive, a little rowdy, and overly energetic like most kids are. But you learned yesterday that she can also be funny, polite, capable, and most surprisingly, a lot smarter than you first thought. Your time spent putting the kites together with her was even downright fun, as the two of you laughed and swapped stories, mostly about AJ, as you worked.

The sun had started setting by the time you put the finishing touches on the third kite, and you made sure Apple Bloom stayed true to her promise to return home to the farm before dark. However, in return for allowing you to walk her home, she made you promise that you absolutely, positively would not fly any of these kites today until she could finish up her morning chores and come back to your house for another visit. She even made you spit-shake on it, which was about as disgusting as it sounds, but according to her absolutely necessary for really important promises between friends and family. You reluctantly agreed and the deal was done. You washed your hands and then saw her home, the two of you arriving at the farmhouse just as the setting sun dipped below the horizon.

Another glance outside brings confirmation that the winds right now are perfect for a test flight. In fact, they’re ideal because these early-morning breezes that have rolled through recently are a good match for the conditions you’ll encounter out on the lake. But she kept up her end of the bargain, and who are you to go back on such a sacred vow? You wouldn’t dream of it, so it looks like you’ll be having company this afternoon for a second day in a row. And to be perfectly honest, it’s something you’re really looking forward to.

A hand reaches out to pull the closed journal away from the table’s edge, lingering for a moment upon the bright red cover before opening it and thumbing through the newly filled pages. There’s no denying that your time spent with the little pony has prompted you to recall some important moments that you feared you might have lost. It’s so surprising that you didn’t see it sooner, but she really is—

You smile and shake your head. “…C’mon, Anon. You know it’s way too early in the day to be getting this sentimental, especially when you’re only on your first cup of coffee!”

Gently closing the journal and setting it aside once again, you rise from the chair, let out a hearty yawn and head to the kitchen to get started on breakfast.


~~~~~~~~~


The morning hours passed by more quickly than Apple Bloom imagined they would as she went about her daily chores. Despite the fact that she had already taken care of the majority of the list her older siblings left her yesterday, some tasks had to be repeated each day, or in the case of feeding the animals, multiple times per day. While none of them in particular were very difficult for her, they were time consuming, and the sun had nearly risen to its highest point by the time she passes underneath the Acre’s main gate.

Hurrying along at a comfortable canter, she abandons the familiar road to Ponyville not long after leaving the farm behind, instead turning down a seldom-used trail which skirts the edge of the Whitetail Woods. Though this shortcut will lead her to the home of Ponyville’s resident human in the shortest amount of time, the trip will still take a while, and she soon finds herself daydreaming as she admires the passing sounds and colors of the newly-blossomed forest.

Her mind wanders from random thought to random thought as it’s often prone to do. She thinks about the things she wants to do with her friends once they return from their family vacations. She thinks about her own family and wonders what they’re doing right now out in the frontier. She thinks about the bullies at school, wondering if they’ve figured out any new ways to tease her that she’ll no doubt have to deal with once school starts again…

But eventually, all those hopes and worries about the future slip away, and her thoughts settle on Mr. Anon… the strange human that she really only met for the first time yesterday and the very same human she’s now hurrying to see. Sure, she’d already met him before, learned what sort of creature he was, learned just a little about where he came from (most of which she didn’t understand), and had even spoken politely with him once or twice. But she never really knew what he was like until yesterday. And the answer she found, well… it was surprising!

He was nice. Of course, Applejack had told her that already a few times before, but she never gave it much thought. Most ponies were nice, and so were a lot of other creatures in Equestria. ‘Nice’ was what she assumed of everyone she met unless she was given reason to believe otherwise, so that meant that aside from his strange appearance, there was really nothing special about Mr. Anon. To her, he was just another adult who was nice, and who her sister would help out from time to time. But her sister helped everyone, or at least tried to, so what was special about that?

It was a conversation at the dinner table that first made her think twice about him. Everypony was talking about their day as they ate; her about what happened at school, Granny Smith about something that maybe happened that day or maybe 50 years prior, Big Mac mumbling his typical one-word answers to Applejack’s questions, and Applejack herself about some of the interesting things that happened while she was tending the stall in town. When she mentioned running into Mr. Anon that day, her eyes lit up, and the cheer in her voice grew. The way she acted as she spoke, it was like she had suddenly run into a long lost friend.

“Ya really like talkin’ ta that hyooman feller, eh Applejack?” Granny asked after the story, nudging her and wearing a sly smile.

“I do,” she replied. “He’s a funny sorta fella, but right smart, too.”

“Smart? You mean like Twilight?” Apple Bloom asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

But Applejack just shook her head, chuckling a little at the question. “Nah, not like Twilight. Well, he might be smart in facts and figures like her… but we don’t talk about that kinda stuff so it’s tough ta say. He’s smart in a different way… a way that ponies like Twilight can’t always see, and that’s why I always like talkin’ ta him.”

She never really understood what her sister meant by that. The question itself was forgotten in her mind when the conversation switched to other things, and after dinner she didn’t think any more about it. It wasn’t until Pinkie Pie suddenly pulled them both inside his home yesterday afternoon and she saw him again that the spark of curiosity reignited, that old question was recalled, and along with it, the drive to discover an answer. Just how in the world could he be smart in a different way than a smart pony like Twilight…?

The answer, or maybe just a glimpse of the answer, came in the moment when her frustration of being treated like a little filly by her brother and sister, the frustration of how little they really trusted her… the frustration that had been simmering all day as she went about those mindless, easy chores all started to well up inside her after something he had said.

In that moment, a hand reached out to straighten her bow and offer a comforting touch. And as it moved away, something about his expression caused her to meet his gaze and be unable to turn away again. Even though she wasn’t used to seeing or interacting with a creature as strange looking as a human, and even though he didn’t even have expressive ears or a tail to signal his mood, she could tell that there was a certain unmistakable something about him, a kindness that seemed to say to her, ‘I understand’, even if she couldn’t quite be sure how he possibly could.

What she was sure of, though, was that the kindness he showed her then was a part of what her sister saw in him. He was nice, just like Applejack said, but in a special way that set him apart from the other adults she knew. When he offered her advice, it wasn’t like one of those boring lectures that were usually given to children. When he asked her if she’d like to help build the kites, he let her work in the way that she wanted instead of telling her all the things she was doing wrong. When he walked home with her at the end of the day, he trusted her to lead the way, and for some reason it made her really happy!

The blossoming spring trees give way to bare branches as she continues down the road. It’s easy to tell she’s almost there now, because a last little pocket of winter still lingers near his home. She quickens her pace when the small house appears in the distance. It’s hard to believe that just yesterday morning, she feared that she’d spend the entire time apart from her loved ones lonely and miserable, because the building excitement of knowing that she’ll get to help fly the kites they made together makes it seem like such a silly thing to worry about.

Of course, it’s not so much the idea of flying the kites that spurs her along. Her track record with kites… well, it wasn’t exactly great to say the least! But much like when she would do stuff she wasn’t very good at with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo as part of their crusading, the fact that she’ll get to spend time with a newfound friend, and maybe learn more about him, was what was really exciting.

Apple Bloom bounds up the porch steps and knocks on the door, and after several moments it opens and the home’s tall two-legged owner appears.

“Hey there! You’re a bit later than I thought. You ready to get started?”

“Heya, Mr. Anon! I’m ready if you are!” she cheers.

“Alright, give me just a minute and I’ll go get the kites.”

He heads back inside the house and returns after a moment wearing a light jacket and with the three kites under one arm. He steps outside, closes the front door and locks it, then leads her out into the front yard a ways before turning down a path toward the back of the house.

“Why do you lock your door, Mr. Anon?” she asks him as they walk.

He shakes his head and sighs. “It’s just an old habit from back home. I don’t know why I bother anymore, really. I mean, it’s not like it does anything to keep Pinkie out, so what’s the point?”

He gives her and exaggerated shrug and she giggles. Together, they move through the back yard’s thin line of trees, and soon find themselves standing in the large open field that she saw through the window while they were working yesterday.

“Wow…”

Apple Bloom twirls around a few times, taking in the sight. The field stretches for a good 10 acres or so, surrounded almost entirely by the Whitetail Woods. To the east, she can see the house somewhat hidden behind the bare line of trees they just passed through. But unlike those trees, whose budding leaves have yet to come in, to the west, north and south the forest is in full bloom, creating a wall of green all around. The distant trees sway in the breeze, along with the grass of the field, which has already grown tall enough to allow the wind to visibly move it around in large swaths like waves on the sea. In the center is a small hill, with a proud sycamore tree, still bare, at the top. Its branches reach toward the sky where the scattered clouds flow overhead, painting their shadows upon the field.

“Not bad, huh?” Anon asks with a hint of pride. “Nice and wide open, just like the lake. This should give us plenty of space to move around as long as we keep clear of the hill.” He stretches, then takes a seat on the grass, holding the kites close to his chest to keep the wind from carrying them away. Apple Bloom turns back and trots over to him as he pulls out a fresh spool of line and struggles to find the free end of it. “Dang it, these things always drive me crazy…”

She smiles at the sight of his fumbling around, trots forward, and nudges the spool with her nose. He quickly gets the hint, handing it over to her, and after several moments she returns it, the end of the line clearly separated from the spool. He simply shakes his head, flipping the sled kite over in his lap so he can attach the line to its bridle.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, Mr. Anon, I’ve been meanin’ to ask, but… why did we need to build three kites in the first place? You really only need one to fish, right?”

He holds the sled up in the wind, watching as it captures the air to check if the knots will hold.

“That’s right. But like I said yesterday, I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to this stuff, so I don’t know what kind of kite would work best for something like this. That’s why we made three different types. We’ll fly each of them today and see which works best, and then from there, we’ll build an even sturdier kite just like it to use out on the lake.”

“Oh, I get it. So these are all just test runs, huh?”

“Yep. Now then…” Still holding the kite in the wind, he hands the spool of line to her. “Let’s start with the sled. Go out a little ways, let out some line, and when you’re ready to get a running start, I’ll let it go. With the wind the way it is today, it should get airborne with no trouble.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes widen. “Wait… you want me to fly it by myself?” She takes a hesitant step back. “Mr. Anon, I hate to say it, but… my special talent ain’t flyin’ kites. Rainbow Dash can tell you, I’m downright terrible at it. Last time I tried, the kite I was usin’ crashed and then sorta…” She tilts her head up in thought. “…melted? Would that be the right word?”

The human laughs. “Apple Bloom, if you manage to melt these kites today, I’ll just laugh it off. I’m still getting used to all the weird stuff that happens around here, so a spontaneously combusting flying bundle of fabric and sticks would be a sight to see!” He shakes his head, gesturing to the field. “Go on, she’s all yours. Even if you end up crashing it a few times, I promise I won’t be mad. Fishing kites have to be sturdy, so a few crashes are a part of the testing too. Besides, I need to stay back and watch how it flies to see if there are any problems, and someone has to hold on to the extra kites or else they’ll blow away, right?”

She nods, still somewhat unsure. “Well… if you say so, I reckon that makes sense. I’ll give it a try, just don’t be mad if I mess it up, okay?”

“You’ll be fine,” he reassures her with a soft smile. “I trust you.”

With another hesitant nod, she starts uncoiling the line and trots away from him out into the field. Once she’s a good ways away, he stands to his feet again, holding the sled kite with one hand, as high as he can so it can capture the most wind.

“Okay, are you ready?” he calls out to her.

“I’m ready!”

“On three! One, two… three!”

Apple Bloom takes off running at the very instant he releases the kite from his grasp. True to his word, it has no difficulty sailing in the wind, following behind her in the air as she runs. She almost lets out a triumphant cheer before realizing that she needs to keep the spool in her mouth to prevent the kite from flying away, so she settles on a simple jump for joy as she continues along, circling back to meet him.

“Okay, let out the line little by little,” he tells her after she returns to his side. “Let’s see if we can get it to about 100 feet or so to start.” She does as he says, slowly letting out the line to let the kite sail higher in the air. “That’s good. Now we’ll just watch it for a while to see how it behaves when the wind changes.”

The two watch intently as the kite sails through the sky. Even though the sled is the flimsiest of the three kites they put together, it captures the air remarkably well even when the breeze temporarily dies off from time to time. The more they watch, the more confident both become that this design could be what they’re looking for.

But then, out of the blue, a freak gale wind stirs up and catches them by surprise. Apple Bloom reacts instinctively, digging her hooves into the ground to try to anchor herself and clutching the spool in her teeth with all her might. She fights to stay in place as hard as she can, but nature eventually wins out. A loud tearing sound echoes over the field, and the sled kite spirals to the grass, nearly ripped in half by the harsh winds.

The two rush over to where the kite fell. Anon lifts it to inspect the damage, while Apple Bloom sits on her haunches nearby, a dejected look on her face.

“I told you… I ruined it, didn’t I?” she asks, her ears folded back in remorse. The human kneels down beside her, and she braces herself for the scolding that’s sure to come.

But instead, he merely reaches and ruffles her mane, a smile on his face.

“Hey, it’s okay! Remember, this is what we came out here to do! Now we know that this kind of kite can’t stand up to high winds if it’s left on its own. When you’re kite fishing, you don’t have control over the kite at all times, so it needs to be able to take a little punishment. Now that we know, we can move on to the next one.”

She blinks twice, pulling back the tears that were threatening to fall. “Wait… really? You’re not mad?”

He shakes his head. “Of course I’m not mad! But if something like that happens again, you don’t have to stand there and fight it, you know. You can always move with it until things settle down. Sometimes, it’s okay to just let the wind carry you.”

Apple Bloom freezes and her heart skips a beat. Here it is, that odd feeling from yesterday afternoon, and once again spurred by something he said. Even though she’s experienced it twice, she still can’t completely describe or define what it is, though it does seem a little clearer now. It’s so strange, but sometimes when he speaks to her, it feels like she’s suddenly hearing the melody of a familiar song that she’s certain she knows, even if she can’t remember the words…

His hand pulls away, and she fights the urge to follow. She watches as he sits down on the grass again, placing the diamond kite upon his lap, and pulls out a fresh spool of line.

“Here, can you get this one started for me? You’re way better at it than I am.”

He smiles at her, and after a few moments, she hops over and happily retrieves the spool from his outstretched hand.
	
> 6 - Screen Door
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Even though the warm morning sun is hidden by the clouds outside, she keeps to her daily routine, resting in the usual place. Her piercing brown eyes periodically shift from the back orchards to the pony perched atop the nearby ladder and the many tools arrayed upon its fold-out shelf. When a wayward nail rolls off the edge of the shelf and clatters to the floor while she watches, she quickly speaks up to let the preoccupied pony know what’s happened.

“Woof!”

“Aw shoot, did I drop another one?” Apple Bloom groans, setting her hammer on the shelf before hopping down the ladder. “I’m never gonna get this thing fixed at this rate!”

She trots over to pick up the fallen nail, then looks up at her unfinished project and frowns. The farmhouse’s back screen door leans slightly inward as if to mock her, leaving a gap of several inches between the door and the frame.

“This is harder than I thought. No matter what I do I can’t get it balanced right.” Her ears fold back and she turns away. “Maybe this was a dumb idea to start with…”

“Woof! Woof!” Winona declares with a wag of her tail, attempting to cheer the forlorn pony up.

Apple Bloom smiles and reaches a hoof over to pet the energetic border collie. “Aw, thanks, girl. You’re right— sittin’ here and worryin’ about it isn’t gonna get the job done, is it?” She hops back up, squaring her shoulders. “I guess it’s like Granny always says, if you’ve got time to worry about somethin’, you’ve got time to do somethin’ about it.”

Winona barks in agreement, happy to see her little master’s confidence return. Though somewhat disappointed that she couldn’t coax any bellyrubs out of her before she got back on the ladder, she’s content to settle back on the rug near the door and close her eyes, trying to ignore the sound of hammering as it starts up once more.

Late last summer, the family decided to make some improvements to the farmhouse, one of which was the addition of a mesh screen door to the back porch. The idea was that they could leave the back door open with the screen door closed on windy days to enjoy a cool breeze from outside the house while not having to worry about insects and other pests getting inside. As with most other construction projects around the farm, Big Mac ended up building the new door from scratch, and he did a great job. Assembled and installed in one afternoon, it fit perfectly, and the Apples were able to enjoy it for almost the entire next morning in comfort.

But despite how well built the door was, there was one factor Big Mac didn’t consider in his plans. Winona always liked to laze in the sun near the back door during the mornings, and with the door left open like it was with the new screen, she was able to sun herself and keep a watchful eye on the orchard at the same time. When the slight movement of a rabbit or some other small animal caught her attention, she went after it immediately, tearing right through the screen mesh and leaving a border collie-sized hole behind.

Realizing that this was going to be an ongoing problem no matter what they did, Mac made some adjustments. A slight modification to the screen door’s latch made it so that Winona would simply push the door open instead of tearing through the screen when she saw something interesting outside. Thus, the problem was solved… at least for a few days.

One evening, Apple Bloom stood at the back door, calling Winona for dinner. She gleefully responded to the call, bolting from the western fields and tearing yet another hole in the mesh before the filly could even open the door for her. Sensing that this might become another trend, Big Mac added two-way hinges and a new latch to the screen door to allow it to swing in either direction, hopefully fixing things for good. But this introduced a new problem in that once the door swung either inward or outward on its hinges, it wouldn’t swing back closed again by itself. If Winona wanted to come in or out, the door would be left intact but wide open, allowing bugs to get in the house and defeating its purpose entirely.

Of course, Mac meant to fix it, but on a farm, if a project isn’t super important, it often gets tossed to the wayside for other things. There were chores to be done and apples to be harvested, so the door was left alone over the fall and winter as the weather got colder.

But now spring has come around again. The days are warming up, and soon the time’ll come when having the back door open will do wonders to keep the house cool. This is something that needs to be fixed, which is why Apple Bloom is perched atop a ladder, hammering away.

“C’mon… I know I can get this!” she grunts around the hammer in her mouth, hitting the nail one more time for good measure before moving to the next.

Even though it wasn’t on the list of chores her siblings left for her, this was something that had been bugging her for a while now. She’d thought about the problem for a few days, and eventually came up with quite a clever solution. Two small blocks of wood were added to the interior and exterior of the doorframe, to which are attached small elastic cords that connect to the screen door. The bands are meant to be loose enough to allow the door to open freely, yet tense enough to pull it back closed when left alone. The trick is equalizing the tension between them to the point where they’ll guide the door back into its two-way latch no matter which way it opens.

Wiping her brow, Apple Bloom finishes nailing the last block in place. Everything looks good as far as she can tell, but there’s only one way to know for sure…

“All right, girl! Give it a try!”

At her little master’s command, Winona jumps up and runs out the door. It easily opens all the way for her and gets pulled back by the cords, first swinging inward past the latch, then slowly leveling out as its momentum wanes. Apple Bloom watches with wide eyes, silently cheering as the door comes to a halt.

“C’mon… c’mon… c’mon!”

When she hears the click of the door settling into its latch, her silent cheers become real ones. She did it! Even without help or instructions from her big brother or sister, she was able to fix a real problem on her own!

The over-excited filly can’t resist the urge to jump for joy. Though it might have been a better idea to wait until she’d climbed down from the ladder first, because she soon finds she’s sailing through the air and quickly plummeting toward a painful encounter with the dining room’s hardwood floor.

“W-Waaaaaaah~! *Ooof!*”

Apple Bloom grunts as she makes contact with the ground a little earlier than she expected. Oddly enough, the landing itself was much softer than she was expecting, too. Cautiously, she opens one eye, only to be greeted by a pink mass of cotton candy-like mane and two sapphire eyes staring back at her.

“Nice belly flop, Apple Bloom, your form was great! You got the screaming and the flailing hooves and everything just right! But you should really be more careful, ‘cause most ponies I know like to dive into lakes and pools and rivers and stuff instead of their kitchen floors. I mean, that looks like it would hurt.”

“P-Pinkie Pie?!” Apple Bloom gasps. She startles and leaps to her hooves, nearly losing her balance when she realizes she’s landed on the pink pony’s back. “W-What are ya doin’ here?”

“I’m dropping off lunch and dinner, silly!” she chirps, carrying her newfound passenger over to the kitchen table where several covered pans have been laid out. “I bet you finished up the leftover quiche yesterday, so today I brought apple cobbler and cornbread!”

Apple Bloom hops from Pinkie’s back into a kitchen chair, then nudges the cover off of one of the pans. The aroma of freshly baked cornbread causes her mouth to water, and she has to fight the urge to chow down right then.

“Thanks a lot, Pinkie Pie, it looks delicious!”

“Aw, don’t worry about it! I’m just glad I got here when I did.” She glances with curiosity over to the ladder and the toolbox placed nearby. “What were you doing, anyway? Is there something wrong with the door?”

Before Apple Bloom can answer, Winona returns from the back yard. Nudging the screen door open with her nose, she immediately runs to greet Pinkie, happily barking and wagging her tail. While Pinkie crouches down to give the friendly pooch some attention, Apple Bloom watches the door like a hawk. It swings back and forth a few times, then finds the latch with a satisfying ‘click’.

“Not anymore there ain’t,” she declares with a proud smile.

“Oh, so you fixed it, huh? Neat! But I don’t remember that being on Applejack’s list…”

“It wasn’t. It was just somethin’ I felt like doin’ ‘cause I knew it needed to be done.” She turns away, a slight blush on her cheeks. “And also… I guess ‘cause I wanted to prove to myself that I could.”

Pinkie nods in understanding. “Well, it sure looks to me like you did a good job. Sometimes I wish I could be good at fixing stuff like you and AJ!”

Apple Bloom’s blush deepens. “Aw, shucks… it’s not like it’s that great. But thanks all the same.”

Pinkie stands to her hooves again, allowing Winona to scamper off to find her second favorite mid-morning napping spot. Smiling, she lifts both pans of food and carries them over to the fridge, careful not to disturb the various papers, pens and crayons scattered upon the kitchen table while she casually asks, “So, do you have any super fun plans for today after such a job well done?”

The filly’s expression instantly brightens. “Actually, yeah... yeah, I do! I’m goin’ to go see Mr. Anon again today. I’ve been helpin’ him build some kites.”

“Kites?!” Pinkie gasps, shutting the refrigerator door so hard it causes the kitchen’s hanging pots and pans to rattle. “Oh wow, that does sound like fun!”

“Yeah, it really is! After you left me there the day before yesterday, we got to talkin’, and he asked me to help him put some kites he was workin’ on together. And then yesterday we flew ‘em, and today we’re gonna make some even better ones!”

The giddy party pony begins to hop up and down with glee. “See, see, see?! Was I right about Non-non or what?! When’s he’s not all,” she rears up and drops her voice several octaves, “‘How the heck did you get in here, Pinkie?!’ or ‘Darn it, I was trying to sleep, Pinkie!’ or ‘Those were my favorite begonias, Pinkie!’, he’s really fun to be around, right?”

“Yeah, you were right,” Apple Bloom agrees, giggling at the impression. “Mr. Anon really is a nice fella and even downright funny sometimes once you get to know him.”

Pinkie nods enthusiastically, still bouncing in place.

“But… but there’s somethin’ else about him, too,” she continues, casting her gaze to the floor and scrunching her snout as she considers what to say next. “It’s like… you know that feelin’ you get when you’re lookin’ for something you lost, and after searchin’ and searchin’ all day, you finally find it?” She looks up at the older pony, who’s since ceased her hopping, though her trademark smile is still present. “I can’t rightly say why, but… sometimes when I’m talkin’ to Mr. Anon, I sort of feel that way. But it’s weird, ‘cause I haven’t lost anything lately, and sure haven’t found anything, either! Do you have any idea what that could mean, Pinkie Pie? Is there word for it that I don’t know or somethi— wha? Hey!”

Apple Bloom’s question is cut short by the pink hoof that suddenly starts tussling her mane. She quickly retreats by hopping out of her chair, but Pinkie stays where she is, somewhat paralyzed by an unavoidable giggle fit when she catches the smaller pony’s look of half-hearted annoyance at having to fix her ribbon.

“You’re thinking too hard, silly filly!” she exclaims through her laughter. “I mean, mayyybe there’s a word for it… you could always ask Twilight, ‘cause she knows all kinds of different words that all mean the same thing! But I think all it really means is that spending time with Non-non makes you happy. It’s easy to tell, because just now, you had the biggest smile I’ve seen on you all week!”

The smaller pony blushes and looks away, but her smile doesn’t fade. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. We have been havin’ a lot of fun, and I suppose that’s all that really matters in the end…” She glances out the back door to the bright blue sky and the long line of clouds lingering above the back orchard. “Seein’ something that you worked real hard on flyin’ through the sky like it was meant to and not catchin’ on fire or somethin’ feels right good. I never really knew there were so many kinds of kites that you could make, and they all fly different ways, too! I can’t wait to see what we end up makin’ today!”

“Oh, I wish I could come help!” Pinkie laments, deflating a little. “But I can’t, ‘cause I have to work all day today, especially after I skipped out on my afternoon shift on Monday. Did you know that there’s a big festival in Dodge Junction this weekend? I didn’t either, but then Mr. and Mrs. Cake got a letter from their mayor that said their baker was sick, so they asked us to help do the catering! But it’s gonna be a loooot of work, especially because we still have to do our normal orders for Ponyville, and poor Mr. Cake is stressing out about it so much he’s worn a groove in the floor from pacing!” She stands up and squares her shoulders, adopting a serious pose. “He also said, ‘Pinkie Pie, we need all hooves on deck for the rest of the week or we won’t be able to get everything done, so we absolutely, positively cannot afford to let any employees take any more time off until after the festival’s over! Do I make myself clear?’”

Pinkie giggles, relaxing and dropping her Mr. Cake impression. “Crazy, huh? The rest of this week’s gonna be nuts for sure!”

Apple Bloom blinks, trying to take everything she just heard in. Sometimes Pinkie talks so fast it’s really difficult to process what she’s saying, but several things from the stream of words did end up sticking out in her mind. Out of curiosity, her eyes wander to the cuckoo clock on the wall, which only serves to confirm what she already knew.

“Y-Yeah, I suppose it does sound right difficult, Pinkie Pie. But… if that’s all true, doesn’t that mean you should be at Sugarcube Corner right now? It’s after 10.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs over the kitchen as the pink party pony’s eyes widen with realization. And then, like lightning, she’s gone out the back door, her exit scattering the papers, pencils and crayons all over the dining room and a faint ‘Enjoy the cobbler and cornbread…!’ lingering on the wind.

Apple Bloom shakes her head and sighs, “Ah swear, sometimes it’s tough to remember she’s supposed to be a grownup…” The door clicks into place just as the swirling papers all settle, causing her to smile once again. “…But maybe I should be like Mr. Anon and count my blessings. At least she used the door, right?”

“Woof!” Winona eloquently agrees.

“There’ll be time to clean all this up later… I really oughta get goin’. Now where in the world is it…?” The young pony spins around a few times, searching through the papers scattered on the floor. “A-ha! Gotcha!” she exclaims, nudging a paper aside so she can pick up the sealed envelope hiding underneath. “I’ll be back before sundown like usual. Watch over the house for me, will ya, girl?”

“Woof! Woof!”

And with that vow, the loyal border collie sees her youngest master off, watching from the window as she starts on the day’s journey, first to the farmhouse’s mailbox, then to the main gate, and eventually around the bend and beyond her sight. She returns to the back door and curls up in the band of sunlight still filtering through, content to rest there for just a little longer before her own busy day of chasing rabbits in the fields was bound to begin.


~~~~~~~~~


“What do ya think, Mr. Anon?”

The clouds outside that had obscured the sun for the last few minutes move away, allowing the warm light of early afternoon to fill the room. It highlights the materials arrayed upon the work table, allowing you to see and consider them clearly alongside the red-maned filly who stands nearby and awaits your answer.

“Maybe a little bigger,” you say. “Like an inch or so on each side, but not too much. We want there to be enough of a difference to have an impact, but not so much that it causes the sail to rip apart if the wind gets too strong.”

“Got it!” Apple Bloom cheers, wasting no time in repositioning the various dowel rods on the table to match your suggestion. She trots to and fro atop the table’s surface, the steady clip-clop of her small hooves upon the old wood almost in tune with the chirping of the robins perched upon the trees just beyond the room’s bay window, which itself rattles in time with the breeze.

You lean back in your chair and close your eyes, listening closely to the odd but soothing harmony of sounds, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight and content to let her do most of the work. Perhaps in part because you’re lazy, but mostly because youth is for the young, and you get the feeling she’s enjoying it far more than you would. You smile and open your eyes after a few moments to see that she’s nearly done; the snap of the tape measure as she finishes double checking her work acting as the final note of the performance.

“Well? How’s that?”

You lean over to inspect the changes, taking the measurements yourself just to confirm… and it’s perfect. It’s really amazing how quickly she’s improved at this since the day before yesterday.

“It’s great! Good work, Apple Bloom. Let’s write these measurements down and then we can get the fabric and start marking it.”

“All right!” she cheers, this time careful not to disturb the precisely placed dowel rods or the finished kite in the center.

Of the three kites you built together, it wasn’t your personal favorite, the traditional diamond that proved the most versatile, or even the initially promising sled. It turned out that the delta kite flew the best in the fickle spring winds yesterday, so that’s the basic design you’ve settled on for your fishing kite. The next step of the process, as you explained to your eager guest, was to determine a good size for it. A larger kite will stay aloft easier when the breeze dies down, but will quickly become difficult to control during gusts. A smaller kite does well in high winds but could fall if the wind slows. In order to find the happy medium, the two of you are building two new delta kites today, the first larger than your original, and the second smaller. Flying all three one after another should go a long way toward giving you a good idea of just how big to make the final product.

You allow Apple Bloom to pick the color for the larger kite from among the many small spools of fabric scraps Rarity so generously donated to your cause. She settles on a brilliant red, and the two of you immediately get to work. Your experience in kite-making earlier in the week speeds the task, and before you know it, you’ve started on the smaller kite, this one a somewhat faded yellow per your small compatriot’s insistence.

But to your surprise, it’s not only your newfound familiarity with the process that helps things along. Apple Bloom moves to and fro across the table with a newfound confidence in everything she does. Measuring, marking, cutting, taping and even sewing… gone is the timid little filly who seemed so surprised that you asked for her help the day before yesterday. The difference is so striking that you idly start to wonder what, if anything, has happened since you saw her last. Trying to stay out of her way, you let her do as she wants and only offer help or gentle corrections when asked or needed.

Yet, her confidence isn’t the only reason you let her take the lead this time. As the hours roll on and the rays of afternoon sunlight move about the room, it becomes more and more apparent just how much fun she’s having, and the sight of it warms your heart. Her smile and laughter, her glances back for your approval and earnest questions… this is a glimpse into the true genuineness and innocence of childhood, and you dare not do anything to disrupt or diminish it.

For a moment you start to reminisce, and your gaze wanders along with your thoughts to the red-covered journal still resting where you left it on the corner of the window sill…

But a sudden bump and surprised yelp quickly pulls you back to the present. Though you didn’t directly see it happen, the combination of sounds paints a vivid picture in your mind, and you act on instinct, jumping out of your chair to catch the little pony after a misplaced step sends her tumbling backwards off the edge of the table.

“Wha— Ooof!” she grunts from the safety of your arms. Your sudden collision and her more than expected weight slightly knocks the wind out of you, and you stumble back, making sure to find your footing and also keep a good hold on her.

“You okay there?”

She shakes her head, turning back to partially face you. “Yeah… I’m okay. Thanks, Mr. Anon.”

After hearing that she really is fine, you kneel down and safely set her next to you on the floor, patting her on the head few times out of habit before you can think better of it.

“That’s a relief. You gave me quite a scare.”

“Believe it or not, this is the second time somepony’s had to catch me today,” she giggles. “I guess I really need to pay more attention to what I’m doin’, huh?”

“Yeah… that would be nice,” you say, reclaiming your seat. “I really don’t want to have to explain to AJ how her little sister ended up being injured while she was in my care.”

Apple Bloom hops into the chair next to yours, a grin on her face. “Aw, don’t you worry, Mr. Anon. I don’t think she’d blame ya. I mean, I know she can be… o… over…”

“Overprotective?”

“Yeah! Overprotective about a lot of things, but when it comes to nicks and scratches and bumps and bruises… none’a that is really a surprise. It kinda comes with the territory of bein’ a Cutie Mark Crusader! We try lots of stuff that it turns out we’re not really good at, so I usually come home with at least one or two by the end of the day.” 

“I see. Sounds like dangerous work,” you say.

Apple Bloom puffs up with pride. “It sure is! But one of our mottos is that if we don’t come back with some battle scars to show for it, we haven’t been crusadin’ hard enough!” Her ears suddenly fold back and she looks around. “But… uh… don’t tell Applejack about that part, okay?”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” you promise her with a chuckle. “I can’t really blame AJ for wanting to look out for you, though. I was always a little overprotective of my loved ones myself, and as you get older you might find out that you’re the same way. It’s one of those things that sometimes runs in the family.”

“Huh…” the young pony mutters, tilting her head in contemplation. “Well… I don’t have a little sister, so I can’t rightly say how I’d act if I did.” She looks up at you once more with questioning eyes. “But I dunno, Mr. Anon, I can’t really see myself bein’ that way. D’ya really change that much when you get older?”

“I suppose it depends on the person. But I think most do. And I’ll tell you, even when you eventually become an adult, it doesn’t mean you’re going to stop growing. Reaching a certain age, or a certain milestone, doesn’t magically give you all of life’s answers. You’ll keep learning, even after your school days are a distant memory…” You glance at the table, the sight of the finished kites resting there bringing a smile to your face. “And hey, don’t let anyone ever tell you that an old dog can’t learn new tricks. I didn’t know how to build a kite before this week, but I think we did a pretty good job on these, don’t you?”

“I sure do!” Apple Bloom cheers, hopping out of her seat. “Hey, Mr. Anon, do you think we can fly ‘em today? It’s not too late, right?”

You turn your head toward the window, just time to watch the sunlight become obscured by a dark storm front lingering in the distance. The glass rattles again as a strong gust rolls over the field, carrying with it a few droplets of rain that stain the window with a loud ping.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t look like the weather’s going to cooperate with us.”

“But… but… I mean, it’s not that bad out there. It’s not really rainin’ hard or anything, and there’s no thunder… and with all this wind, it’d be a great test, right? Please, Mr. Anon, I really, really wanna see how they fly!”

She gazes up at you with turned back ears, quivering lips and hopeful eyes, most likely in the same practiced way that nearly always works when she’s trying to get some kind of concession out of her older siblings. It’s truly a face that you’d have to have an iron will to say no to, and you find any arguments you have against the idea suddenly hard to articulate. You grunt a little, searching for the ability to say anything at all, when the universe kindly grants you a reprieve. A series of random patterings upon the window turns into a constant stream as the deluge begins and the sudden spring storm arrives in earnest.

Just like that, the look of hope fades on the little pony’s face, and the sight of it almost makes you feel as heartbroken as she must be. You stand and kneel beside her, offering a comforting head pat and an ear scratch for good measure, which she quickly responds to by leaning into your palm.

“Don’t worry. There’s always tomorrow,” you tell her as you pull your hand away.

She nods, her smile returning. “Yeah… that’s right.”

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home. I know you didn’t bring an umbrella, but I’m pretty sure I have one big enough for the both of us.”

Leaving the finished kites behind, the two of you step outside and start down the trail that’ll eventually take you to the main road and Sweet Apple Acres just beyond. You slow your stride to match that of your small companion, ensuring that the large umbrella will indeed keep you both dry and relishing the scents and sounds of the rainy forest.

“Say, Mr. Anon, would you like to stay for dinner?” Apple Bloom asks as the farm’s front gate comes into view in the distance. “Pinkie Pie brought some cobbler and cornbread over this mornin’, and I’m sure it’ll be really good.”

“I appreciate the offer, but… I mean, that food is meant for you. I wouldn’t want to eat it and then have you run out sometime later in the week.”

“Don’t worry about that!” she exclaims. “She made a lot, and… uh, I kinda skipped lunch to come see you today, so there’s still that portion left.”

“You skipped lunch?” You give her a disapproving glance. “I’m not too happy to hear that. You should’ve said so; I could’ve fixed you something while we were working.”

Her ears droop and she looks away. “Sorry…”

“But if there’s going to be some extra, we wouldn’t want to waste it. And you’re right, Pinkie’s a good cook, so it’s tough to turn down the opportunity to have something she’s made.”

The little pony instantly perks back up. “Really? So you mean you’ll stay?”

“Sure,” you say, chuckling at her enthusiasm.

The two of you eventually reach the homestead’s covered porch. You fold the umbrella and set it aside as Apple Bloom opens the front door, freeing your arms just in time to catch the excited border collie that leaps into them and showers you with kisses not a moment later.
	
> 7 - Side by Side
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Yesterday’s off-and-on rainstorms left a shroud of fog over the forest in their wake. It lingered on throughout the night, and even past the sunrise. All you could see from your window when you woke up were the thin outlines of the closest trees as the daylight slowly spread over the land. With visibility so limited, there were few distractions to otherwise capture your attention, so you wrote in your journal, hoping to make up for the neglect you’ve shown it over the last few days.

Writing by hand was such an odd feeling, and even after all this time you were still getting used to it. By now, you had nearly forgotten what it was like to hear the steady, reassuring click clack in the air and feel the firmness of a computer keyboard underneath your fingers. It had been replaced by the sensation of a pen gliding across the page, leaving a trail of black ink wherever it traveled. The writing process became much slower and more deliberate, considering mistakes were so hard to correct, and you constantly had to make sure not to accidentally smudge the ink with your hand as you moved along.

Yet the more you wrote in this way, the more you grew fond of it. Since you had to think so hard about what you were going to say before you put pen to page, what you ended up producing seemed to flow more naturally than what was made by haphazardly typing away on the computer and then editing later. It also encouraged you to say more with less, so your stories became simpler; the flowery or overblown descriptions your mind sometimes thought up often cast aside before the first bit of ink was drawn.

You set the pen down and take a last sip of coffee while you allow the ink to dry. It’s a necessary precursor for the final step in this process, so after placing the empty mug aside, you lean back in your chair and close your eyes, giving it a few more minutes just to be safe.

“…Like two peas in a pod.”

You mutter your thoughts to the empty room with a smile. Really, who could deny it now?

“Or maybe it would be more like two apples in a bushel, huh?”

Opening your eyes once more, your gaze settles on the two kites on the table. They’re exactly as you left them; the smaller yellow delta resting atop its larger red sibling. The measurements really were spot-on; the red one’s wingspan is about 5 ½ inches wider than the yellow’s. It may not seem like much, but if your hunch is correct, it should make a huge difference in higher winds.

The sunlight outside burns some of the fog away, brightening the room. You stand from your seat and walk over to the table, examining the kites’ construction. They’re much more carefully made than the last three, a testament to how much the two of you have improved in such a short time. You’re certain they’ll fly well, but for some reason you’re still anxious to see it for yourself. You find that you’re glancing at the clock hanging on the wall more often than usual, even if you’ve long realized by now that it does nothing to make the time pass more quickly…

But regardless of how fast or slow you perceive it to be, the time will pass. It’s true in this world, just as it was true back on Earth. You take a seat once more, certain that the ink is now dry, but instead of resuming your work, you brush it aside, focusing your gaze on the window and the world beyond. The rapidly fading fog reveals more and more of the trees, forest and field, as if they were being painted on a canvas right before your eyes. The sight is mesmerizing, and you can’t help but admire it while idly wondering what the small pony you’ve spent so much time with recently is up to right now.

She’s no doubt awake, as life on a farm requires one to be an early bird, and she’s likely already started on her morning tasks. Feeding the animals, taking care of chores around the house, and all on her own, too… it really is amazing how much trust her older siblings place in her, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it. Were you in Applejack’s position, you’re not sure if you’d be willing to leave Apple Bloom to tend a farm on her own or not. But given all that you’ve learned about the surprisingly sharp and somewhat over-excitable little filly, you may not be giving her enough credit. After all, her family knows her best, and if they felt she was ready for the responsibility, then she must be.

So, how much longer would the typical morning chores on a farm take? Several more hours or so? Or is she so used to them that they could go by even faster now?

With a smile and a shake of your head, you pull the journal, pen and inkwell back within your reach. No matter the answer, and no matter whether you choose to spend the rest of the morning lost in your own thoughts or writing out yet another story from your past, you know you’ll eventually hear that familiar knock on your door, and those two kites on the table will sail through the afternoon sky side by side. Because just as you told her before, time marches on for us all, regardless of our wishes in the matter.

You hold the pen once more, and soon enough, the next words appear on the page.


~~~~~~~~~


The sun shines brightly overhead, doing its best to finally dry the damp forest. But though the heat of summer would’ve easily taken care of the soggy ground and morning dew by now, this was still early spring, and the cool morning air would help to permit many large puddles to linger on the forest path for at least a few more hours.

Apple Bloom does her best to avoid the puddles as she canters along the trail, fighting back the urge to run through them as she normally would. Though splashing through puddles was always fun, she had her doubts that Mr. Anon would like a bunch of mud and rainwater tracked all over his house, and upon further reflection she concludes that she really wouldn’t want the stuff all over the farmhouse, either. After all, since she’s in charge, she’d be the one who’d have to clean it up…

Yep, that would be no fun. And like her Granny always says, the house does need to be kept presentable, because you never knew when company would drop by. It could be somepony from the extended family who happened to be in town, or maybe a friend from school, or even someone you happened to invite over for a meal out of the blue!

She giggles to herself as she hops to the side to avoid yet another puddle. It was so great that Mr. Anon decided to stay for supper yesterday. It was nice to not eat dinner alone for once this week, and she enjoyed the opportunity to spend some more time with him…

But all that aside, it was great because it gave her an opportunity to show off her work! Sure, maybe she was a little too excited about it, but she couldn’t help but lead him to the screen door she fixed. And Winona, bless her heart, was so happy to have a new face around she gladly helped to show how it worked, running outside, then inside, then outside again, wagging her tail all the way.

But definitely the best, most amazing part of his visit was… he loved it!

She didn’t realize just how much she wanted to know what he thought until he said it, but to see him stand there and inspect the bands, and the changes to the doorframe she made, and to swing the door back and forth and watch how it latched all by itself, and then tell her that he loved it and that she did a great job… it made her spirits soar, and she had to somehow resist the urge to hop all over the kitchen with glee just like Pinkie Pie would. When she was cleaning up after dinner and doing the last chores for the day and she thought about it again, she even got a little embarrassed.

It felt like such a silly thing, to be so excited about getting praise from a grownup for something she’d done, even if it was from one she’d come to really like. After all, sometimes Ms. Cheerilee would praise her for her schoolwork if she did a good job, and her many relatives would usually compliment her whenever they came to visit. But for some reason, with Mr. Anon, it was different. For one, she could always tell he really meant what he said, and wasn’t just saying it to make her feel good. But that wasn’t all of it. To be praised by him like that made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, in that same strange, familiar way that she sometimes felt when they talked.

She still couldn’t put a hoof on what it really was, but what she did know is that it made her whole body feel lighter, and a little bit of that feeling lingered and stayed with her into the morning. It even drove her to bound out of the house and down the forest trail to go see him the moment her chores were done, with only a short ‘Hi!’ and ‘Thanks!’ given to a tried-looking Pinkie Pie as she stopped by the house to drop off the day’s dinner.

She picks up of the pace, laughing with joy at where her wandering imagination takes her. Because maybe today, he’ll praise her again. He’ll look at those kites they built flying in the sky and say, ‘These are the best kites I’ve ever seen!’, or ‘Look at how good they fly!’, and she’ll get that fuzzy feeling one more time, and maybe even get closer to learning what it meant. Pinkie didn’t seem to know, but Apple Bloom was sure by now that if she kept on spending time with her new human friend, she’d figure it all out.

Before she knows it, she’s hopping over the last puddle and a few small wooden steps to land squarely on Mr. Anon’s front porch. A knock on the door and a short wait later, and there stands the tall human himself, a mug of coffee in his hand.

“This is a surprise! You’re really early today.”

“Sure am!” she replies with an enthusiastic nod. “I finished up that ol’ list yesterday, so there wasn’t much to do this mornin’.”

“I see. Well, c’mon in. We’ve got a big day ahead of us, so I don’t think it’ll hurt to get an early start.”

He steps aside and she happily trots past the threshold, first waiting patiently for him to close the door and then following him down the hallway to the bright, familiar work room. The two new kites are still on the table, right where they left them at the end of the previous day. The slightly older orange delta they used as a template is set aside in the corner, safely tucked away but not forgotten. Apple Bloom hops into the seat of one of the sturdy chairs, giving her a better vantage point, and for the first time she notices the open journal, pen and inkwell sitting atop the table near the edge, right next to the chair the human takes a seat in as he sets down his cup beside them.

“Oh, were you in the middle of writin’ somethin’, Mr. Anon?”

He smiles and closes the book, its bright red cover a similar shade to the largest of their kites. “I was. But don’t worry, it can wait. I know you’re anxious to get out there, and I am too. It even looks like the wind already got started without us.”

As if on cue, the window rattles a bit as another strong gust travels over the field.

“Golly, it sure does,” she agrees after a glance outside.

“So, I’m thinking we’ll get a better idea of where we stand if we fly both kites at once. Which one do you want?”

“I’ll take the big one!” Apple Bloom answers without hesitation.

He chuckles. “Well, I suppose that leaves the small one for me. Depending on what we see, it might even be a good idea to fly the medium size one again too as a comparison.”

Setting the book and his writing tools aside, he pulls the two new kites closer, and together they check them over one last time and attach their lines to the keels. After that, it’s off to the yard, and a short walk to the field just beyond. The sky certainly isn’t cloudless, but it doesn’t seem to hold any threat of rain, either, and thanks to their early start, they have plenty of time to fly even if a small squall decides to roll through. Another gust pushes at their backs just as they cross the tree line as if to usher them forward, and the two share a knowing glance with one another, both holding the hope that it’s a sign that the weather will finally cooperate today.

Apple Bloom takes giddy steps through the tall grass ahead of her human friend, brimming with confidence in their work and excited about what’s to come. They both stop once they reach a good spot clear of any nearby trees, and with practiced ease the two quickly prepare for the first launch. The spool for the larger kite is entrusted to the small pony’s care, while Anon stands still with the kite held aloft in one arm, holding tightly to keep the wind from pulling it away until the right moment.

And then, with a quick count of three, they move in tandem and the red delta takes flight! It sails through the air with ease, and in no time at all she’s able to get it fully under her control and at the proper height.

The launch of the yellow kite is a somewhat more difficult affair. Much to Apple Bloom’s amusement, Anon holds it aloft and then gets a slightly clumsy running start. He lets go and immediately whips around, trying to pull the kite higher to catch more of the wind, but its much smaller sail has trouble keeping up. It takes several attempts at a running start and subsequent fighting with the line in order to get it high enough in the sky for at least a partially stable flight, but he eventually succeeds, and just as she imagined earlier in the day, the two kites sail in the air side by side.

For a moment, the wind remains steady; not too strong, and not too gentle, and the two are able to playfully guide their kites back and forth, painting patterns in the sky. The sunlight filters through the durable fabric, creating a halo within as if the kites were somehow enchanted by magic, and both pony and human stop to admire the unexpectedly beautiful sight.

Then the wind picks up, driving the clouds above faster and faster and nearly ripping the spool of line out of Apple Bloom’s mouth. She fights back the urge to dig her hooves into the ground and instead runs with it, just as Mr. Anon told her, and revels for an instant in the strange sensation of feeling a little bit lighter. Still, it takes every ounce of her strength and finesse to keep from completely losing her hold on the kite, and several times she wonders if her hooves are going to remain planted on the comforting earth beneath them, or if she’s suddenly going to be forced to learn what being a pegasus is like!

“Yeah, that’s good!” Anon yells over to her, retaining control of his own kite with surprising ease. “You’re doing fine; don’t give up!”

Emboldened by his faith in her, and further by a slight dip in the wind, she fights on and soon has the kite fully under her control once more. With a smirk of pride and some extra effort, she steers it back toward where he’s standing, panting for breath after the exertion of her frantic run, and somewhat jealous that he hasn’t had to do much running around since he got his own kite in the air.

But just as suddenly as the gust arrived, it vanishes, and those fast-moving clouds slow to a crawl. The large red kite in her care instantly stops fighting her and even drops a little while managing to stay airborne, but the small yellow kite held by Anon quickly dovetails out of his control. He immediately starts running to try to salvage the flight, but the kite refuses his efforts and ends up making a rough landing in the tall grass near the hill.

The cycle repeats itself as the morning wears on. The fickle wind howls and the smaller kite soars while the larger one struggles; it subsides and the large glides along easily, while the smaller barely floats or falls to the ground. To make matters worse, their attempts to fly the medium-sized kite reveal that it has the problems of both the others; steady with a moderate breeze, but quick to lose control in either extreme.

Anon and Apple Bloom, both exhausted from all the running around, collapse with their backs against the still-bare sycamore tree at the top of the hill. The young pony looks to the sky and the clouds above through the tree’s many branches, while the older human supports his head on one knee, eyes cast downward while he catches his breath, the three kites safely held against the grass by one of his hands.

“I… really should’ve given you the smaller kite,” he gasps, breaking the short silence that settled between them. “I haven’t had to do a bunch of running around like that for a long time.”

“Yeah… you’re right. There were a few times there when I wasn’t sure if I was gonna get carried away or not!” Apple Bloom exclaims with a giggle. “But I gotta say, you’re pretty fast for a fella with only two legs, Mr. Anon. You did good keepin’ up!”

The human laughs along with her. “Thanks, I’ll take that compliment!” He stretches his legs out and leans against the tree, training he eyes on the sky as well. “I hate to say it, but it looks we’ve run into a big problem. The delta’s the best design we came up with, but the wind’s so crazy that we can’t find a size for it that’ll work. And if we can’t get a good kite that’ll fly under our control, it’s definitely not going to fly out on the lake when it’s out of my hands, even if the conditions aren’t as bad then as they are now.” He sighs and turns to her with a sad smile. “It looks like it might be back to the drawing board for us, and I’m not really sure what direction to go next.”

“You’re… you’re not givin’ up, are ya?” Apple Bloom asks with a hint of worry. “I mean, we can’t give up! We’ve come this far, right? Maybe there’s somethin’ we’re doing wrong with the wings, or maybe they’re too heavy, or…”

“Maybe. But I’m a little out of my depth here. Like I said before, I’m not an expert on building kites. We could very well be doing something wrong or making a simple mistake, or even using the wrong design entirely… but I wouldn’t really know. The types of kites we made are the only ones I’m really familiar with… well, aside from some really exotic designs that definitely wouldn’t work…”

Silence falls between them as Anon ponders the problem, and Apple Bloom looks away, out across the sweeping field to the edge of the Whitetail Woods in the distance. Things certainly haven’t gone like she expected they would this morning. The kites they worked so hard on don’t fly right, and those words of praise she so looked forward to hearing from him today were nowhere to be found. Again, that feeling that something was missing starts to well up inside, and she sighs, her ears folding back as a new sense of frustration settles over her.

Why? Why was it so important to her to hear him say those things? It just didn’t make any sense! Sure, she loved it when her big brother and sister were proud of the things she’d done, and sure, she’d come to learn that she really liked Mr. Anon. But it’s not like he was family. Heck, he wasn’t even a pony! So why…?

The familiar sensation of a comforting hand tussling her mane, careful to avoid the bow tied there as always, pulls her from her thoughts, and she looks over to the human by her side. Despite her own somber mood, no gloom can be found in his expression as he softly smiles at her. The gentle reminder that he’s nearby lifts her spirits, and once again she finds that strange sensation of missing something slowly replaced by the feeling that what was lost was found.

“Hey, don’t let it get you down. We have another saying back on Earth, you know…”

“What’s that?”

He pulls his hand away and gathers the three kites into his arms.

“‘Nothing worth doing is easy.’ It means that the things we work the hardest for are almost always worth the effort.”

“Now you’re startin’ to sound like Applejack,” she says with a small laugh.

“Told you we have some things in common!” he replies with a laugh of his own. “Look, I know this is just putting a few kites together, but I’m having a lot of fun, and it seems to me like you have been too. C’mon, we’re not beaten yet. And just think about it… once we get this thing figured out and eventually watch that final kite fly no matter the wind? It’s gonna feel pretty amazing, huh?”

He stands up, holding the kites close to his chest while the little pony hops to her hooves, her smile now a mirror of his own.

“Eeyup!”

And with their confidence renewed, the two leave the field behind for now to return to the house for a somewhat late, but much-deserved lunch break.
	
> 8 - Letters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The last hour of daylight brings with it an end to the day’s work as usual. Even if more needed to be done, or could be done with the aid of firelight, the chance of injury or an attack from some nocturnal beast stalking from the edge of the nearby forest was too much of a risk to take.

Surprisingly, Applejack didn’t really mind all that much. Beasts or no beasts, if it were anything else, she would’ve powered through it with her typical gusto. But this work really took everything out of her, and she was secretly thankful for the reprieve. Her hooves drag slightly as she trots back to a familiar tent set among the many that make up the nearby encampment, her exhaustion mixed with a bit of gladness that other ponies will be handling the night’s meal.

Upon reaching the tent, she takes a glance back over her shoulder at the cleared fields. The stumps will need to be removed tomorrow, but the amount of trees they were able to fell and brush they cleared away truly was a sight to behold. It brings a tired, yet proud smile to her face for a job well done, especially in light of the fact that the forest fought them every step of the way.

She pushes the flap aside and enters the cramped two-pony tent. Bathed in the light of the single firefly lamp hanging above is a certain red-coated stallion sprawled out over one of the sleeping bags. Though his eyes are closed, the lack of annoying snoring is a clue that he’s not asleep, so Applejack doesn’t bother to keep quiet.

“I’m back, lazybones.”

“And ah’m tellin’ ya, if you keep workin’ double shifts, you’re gonna burn yourself out, Lil Sis,” he answers coolly, not bothering to open his eyes.

Applejack scoffs, collapsing atop her own sleeping bag. “An’ how else do ya expect this ta get done on time if I don’t? While I ain’t opposed ta helpin’ out the family for stuff like this, we’ve got a farm ta run back home, Mac! We don’t exactly have time ta be takin’ this at a leisurely pace.”

“Eeyup,” Mac agrees, not wanting to rile his sister up any more than need be.

“I’ll admit that ya might have a point, though.” She sits up and shakes one of her forehooves back and forth. “My achin’ hooves feel like they could fall off at the drop of a hat. I swear, this is some of the toughest land I think I’ve ever seen…”

Mac sits up as well, stretching his neck and yawning. “Ain’t that the truth. It’s like the ground here is… ornery or somethin’. Ah don’t much like it. But on the bright side, with the way things are now, we’ve only got two more days’a this left before we head on back home with Granny.” He glances over to the portion of the cleared fields framed by the setting sun, still visible through the space in the tent flap. “The hard part’s already over, so there ain’t no need for ya to be workin’ any more double shifts.”

Applejack responds by stomping one of her sore hooves in frustration and instantly regretting it. The pain flashes on her face for just an instant, but it doesn’t escape her brother’s notice.

“…An we could’a had it down ta one more day instead’a two if you’d just buckled up and put in the extra effort! Have ya already forgotten about Apple Bloom bein’ all alone at home?!”

The stallion can’t help but chuckle, which he also instantly regrets when it causes the scowl on his sister’s face to deepen.

“Eenope, ah haven’t forgotten. Ah just don’t think there’s much need ta worry, is all.”

“And I don’t understand how it is ya can say somethin’ like that so willy-nilly. You know how she is! I… I can’t believe I let you convince me leavin’ her all by herself at the farm was good idea in the first place…”

He nods. “Ah do know how she is. She’s got a right level head when her friends ain’t around, and they’re both outta town.”

Applejack’s face scrunches when she finds herself unable to deny her brother’s point. A few minutes of silence follow, disturbed only by the chirping of the crickets outside and the occasional rustling of the wind against the tent.

“You… don’t think we left too much for her ta do, do ya?” Applejack asks, her emerald eyes focused on the darkening horizon still visible outside.

“Eenope. Believe it or not, she got most’a it done the first afternoon.”

The young mare turns to her older brother with a confused look. “An’ just how d’ya know that?”

Mac yawns and nods to their pile of gear in the corner of the tent. “Said so in the letter she sent.”

“Mac, I swear ta Celestia, if I wasn’t hurtin’ so bad right now—!” She stands and trots over to the pile, finding an open letter sitting neatly at the very top. “For cryin’ out loud… when did this even come in?”

“Mailmare from Ponyville dropped it off about an hour ago, ah reckon. Said she got a little lost on the way.”

Applejack sighs and shakes her head. That gray-coated mailmare was a sweetheart, but sometimes she could be a little loopy. She carefully takes the pages of the letter closer to the overhead lamp and starts to read, focusing as hard as she can to decipher her little sister’s less-than-ideal hoofwriting.

“Finished it in an afternoon… well I’ll be.”

“Keep readin’,” Mac urges. “Ah think you’re gonna be surprised.”

Applejack turns the first page over and continues on, her eyes widening with each passing sentence.

“Anon? An’ buildin’ kites? What in the world?”

“Even drew a picture,” Mac adds with a chuckle.

She shuffles past the last written page to find a crayon drawing of the yellow filly and tall human together in a field of green grass. Two kites soar in the air above them while the sun, comically sporting a smile and a pair of sunglasses, shines down on the scene. She brings a hoof to her mouth, unable to contain her laughter, prompting her brother to join in with some of his own.

“Old enough ta handle all those chores we left her on her own, but still a filly at heart,” Applejack says, carefully placing the pages of the letter back in the envelope. “Have ya shown this ta Granny yet?”

“Eeyup,” he answers with a yawn, laying his head back on his sleeping bag. “So, what d’ya think? Still worried?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Nah. Sounds like she’s in good hands.”

“Ah think so too.” He opens his eyes again, training his tired gaze on his stubborn sister. “So that means there ain’t no rush. No more double shifts, y’hear?”

“Fine,” she grumbles, the annoyance of being told what to do overtaking her relief at the reprieve for a moment. “By the way, she mentioned somethin’ in there about fixin’ the back door in the kitchen. Any idea what that’s about?”

“Well… ah’ve been meanin’ ta order some spring-loaded hinges for the screen,” Mac ponders, “but ah don’t think she’d know anythin’ about that.” He shrugs. “Your guess ‘s as good as mine.”

“Well, I reckon we’ll find out for better or worse when we get back…”

There’s a slight, and likely somewhat justified hint of worry in her tone. Her little sister usually means well, but her idea of helping can sometimes lead to unexpected property damage and costly repairs. She places the envelope safely in her saddlebags in the corner of the tent, pausing for a moment as another thought comes to mind.

“Say… we should do somethin’ special for Anon and Pinkie Pie when we get back. Y’know, ta thank ‘em for lookin’ after Apple Bloom. Maybe we could invite ‘em over for dinner or somethin’?”

Her brother nods in agreement. “Sounds like a right good idea. Finally got that recipe for baked trout figured out, huh?”

“Yup, I—” The orange mare suddenly freezes mid step, causing her hat to nearly tumble from her head. “H-H-How in tarnation d’ya know about that?!”

“What, you think ah couldn’t smell all that lemon juice an’ fish after ya were usin’ the oven in the middle of the night a few weeks back?” He grins at his sister, amused by the rosy tone her cheeks have taken. “Yer puttin’ too much lemon in it, by the way.”

“I know that!” she barks, leveling an angry stare at the stallion. “It took a while ta get it right, ‘cause how was I supposed ta know how somethin’ like that should taste? An’ why the heck d’ya even care, anyway, it ain’t any’a your business!”

Mac endures her withering stare, his grin growing wider. “Hey now, ah ain’t tryin’ ta step on your hooves, Lil Sis. Ah’m sure Granny told ya that a way ta a stallion’s heart is through his stomach, an’ she’s darn right about that. Ah’m tryin’ ta say you’re on the right track, is all, and ah’m glad you’re finally makin’ a move.”

A short silence follows as the redness in Applejack’s cheeks slowly travels across her entire body along with visible tremors of anger that even start to shake the overhead lamp. A formerly orange hoof reaches up to tilt the brim of her hat downward, hiding her face from view.

“Just why in the world is it…” Applejack growls, grinding her teeth, “…that whenever ya decide ta open that big dumb mouth’a yours and get chatty, it’s always meant ta drive me up the wall!” She stomps her front hoof and raises her head, fire burning in her eyes. “I don’t care how sore I am right now, if you keep this up I’ll see to it you feel three times worse, big brother!”

Big Mac suppresses the pang of fear that suddenly runs down his spine, fighting to keep his stoic expression in place. Slowly, he lets out the breath he was holding and holds up a hoof in defense.

“Whoa, now, you know ah’m just teasin’ ya. Before ya go an’ do somethin’ that’ll wreck the tent, ya might want ta have a look at this…” He leans down and picks up yet another envelope in his mouth, passing it to his sister. “This one came today too, but ah didn’t open it ‘cause it only had your name on it.”

“Another letter?” Applejack asks, her anger quickly fading. “And not from Apple Bloom? Who else’d be writin’ ta me all the way out here?”

She tears open the envelope and removes the letter inside. A glimmer of recognition flashes in her eyes not a second later, as the flowery lettering and the many doodles in the letter’s margins offer little doubt as to who wrote it.

“Pinkie Pie.”

“From Pinkie?” Mac’s ears perk up, his curiosity piqued. “Somethin’ the matter?”

Applejack reads on for a few more moments before answering, “Yeah… from the sound of it, somethin’ is wrong. She’s talkin’ about some kinda shindig in Dodge Junction this weekend that she’s supposed ta be caterin’ for…”

“Heard somethin’ ‘bout that the other day…” Mac mutters, tapping a hoof to his chin.

“…and she’s askin’ for my help with the bakin’ since they’re so far behind,” she finishes, her muzzle scrunching at the request. “Is she crazy? She knows full well that I can’t just up ‘n leave ta go bake stuff for her when we’re tryin’ ta finish clearin’ land out here! Lands sakes, it’s already Thursday evenin’… there ain’t no time!”

“Well, that ain’t completely true,” Mac mutters, his hoof still tapping periodically as he does some math in his head. “Ah reckon if ya left first thing tomorrow mornin’, and without a cart weighin’ ya down, you’d get back ta the Acres by late afternoon. That’d give ya all of Friday night ta bake stuff for the festival. It might not be a huge help ta her, but it’s better than nothin’, right?”

“But what about all this?” Applejack protests, gesturing to the worksite just beyond the flap of the tent.

Mac rolls his eyes. “What about it? The worst’a it is already over… ah’ll work double shifts the next few days ta pick up the slack, an’ you can head home early. Don’t you worry none, ah’ll be sure ta get things done and bring Granny back home safe ‘n sound.”

Chuckling with amusement the sight of his sister’s now very incredulous expression, he shows her a soft smile.

“C’mon now, ya just said ya wanted ta do somethin’ special for Pinkie Pie. Well, she’s askin’ for your help now, so go on an’ help her. Ah’ll take care’a things here.”

She laughs a little too, trotting over so she can sit beside her brother and give him a hug.

“I swear… no matter how riled up ya can get me sometimes, ya always find a way ta redeem yourself. Thanks, big brother.”

“Don’t mention it. Besides, ah know no matter what ya say, you’re still anxious ta see Apple Bloom again, am ah right?”

“Yeah… you’re right. And ta be honest, from the sound of her letter I’m a little worried she might be pesterin’ Anon even more than Pinkie usually does, if ya can believe that. Poor fella could probably use a break.”

“Eeyup. Goes without sayin’ that ya miss him too,” Mac hums, trying to ignore the sudden increase in pressure from the hooves around his neck. “Oh, and don’t forget: after ya get home, be sure ta clean that oven one more time before ya use it, ‘else whatever ya bake’s gonna taste like a bunch’a lemons that were floatin’ in the lake.”

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t worth it. The sun had nearly set already, and when last he checked, a storm front was lingering on the horizon. Trying to fix a collapsed tent in the dark with rain pouring down was one of the most miserable experiences he could imagine.

But siblings will be siblings, and when the opportunity for the older brother to tease his younger sister presented itself, it was always impossible for him to deny. Sure, the tent may take an agonizing hour or so to fix, but the memory of the look on her face in that moment would certainly bring him laughter for the rest of his days.


~~~~~~~~~


A faint rumble of thunder echoes just above the sound of the wind through the leaves, prompting Apple Bloom to pick up her pace. There was no need to run, as home wasn’t very far away now, but she felt that a brisk canter would be a good idea to help avoid any sudden downpours, especially since Mr. Anon wasn’t holding an umbrella for her this time.

“Can’t believe I forgot about tonight’s storm…” she grumbles under her breath, angry at herself for making such a careless mistake.

It was true, she hadn’t been paying attention to the weather schedule lately. There was no need to, because the weather at Mr. Anon’s house was wild. Unlike the same old dull routine of rain and shine so carefully planned by the town’s Pegasi, you never knew what kind of weather to expect at Mr. Anon’s. It just kinda… did whatever it wanted, and the more time she spent there, the more she came to find that she really, really liked it. If nothing else, it added a sense of danger and excitement to their kite flying, and it made her feel proud to stand next to him each time they boldly marched into the tall grass of the field, as if they were preparing to challenge the wind itself.

Her ears flatten, and she kicks a loose pebble, watching it bounce and disappear into the grass on the side of the road.

Well, if they really were challenging the wind, then the wind had been kicking their butts so far. They spent the rest of the afternoon trying stuff… messing with the attachment points on the keel, trying a bridle setup instead, adjustments to the wing shape and cross spar… but nothing worked. Some of the changes even made the kites fly worse, or not at all, leaving them right back where they were when they started.

It wasn’t until late in the day that she remembered that there was an overnight storm scheduled to begin around sunset, and that she had some things to take care of in order to get ready for it. Some barrels had to be uncovered and prepped to refill the southwest field’s irrigation system, and the sheep had to be brought in from pasture. Mr. Anon said he had some errands to take care of too, so the two parted ways much earlier than usual. Most days this week she passed through the gate to the Acres just as the sun was setting, but today she was arriving several hours before dusk.

She wastes no time going about her chores as soon as she gets home. Like all the stuff her brother and sister left in her hooves, none of them were particularly difficult, but the gloomy mood that settled over her during her walk home served to make them more annoying than usual. Her already somewhat lacking reserve of patience was all but gone now, and she rushed to finish each task, moving from one thing to the next without paying much attention or giving them much thought.

By the time the sun finally started to set, the storm was rolling in, and that distant thunder didn’t sound so far away anymore. Thankfully, everything got done that needed to, and she had already returned to the safety of the farmhouse, so the rain was welcome as far as she was concerned.

All that was really left now was dinner. She opens the fridge, spotting the food Pinkie dropped off for her earlier in the day, and surprised to find that there was really only enough there for one meal.

“I hope Pinkie Pie remembers to stop by tomorrow. She sure looked out of it today…” she mumbles as she carefully slides the pans of leftovers inside the oven. Once that’s done, she refills Winona’s food and water, then opens the back door, watching for a few moments as the many newly-blossomed apple trees of the back orchards sway to and fro. Bringing her hoof to her mouth, she lets out a high-pitched whistle that echoes even above the sound of the wind. It ends up being so loud that she even feels a slight sense of pride, confident that the loyal border collie heard her call, wherever she may be out there.

With nothing left to do but wait for her food to warm, she takes a seat at the kitchen table, enjoying the cool wind on her back that filters through the screen door. It rustles the edges of the carefully placed stack of papers in the table’s center, the neatly organized box of crayons resting on top of the stack preventing them from flying away. The sight causes her to giggle as she entertains a funny thought.

“It’s right easy to get a piece of paper to fly… I mean, ya just fold it. If only it was that easy for kites, too…”

Resting her head on the table, Apple Bloom closes her eyes and relishes the feeling of the wind surrounding her. Really, now she was just being silly. It wasn’t hard to make a kite that could fly. The first kite they ever made together flew! They made one that could fly in almost no breeze… they made one that could fly in the strongest gusts, and they made one that could handle everything in between. 

But what they couldn’t make was one that could fly no matter what the wind decided to do…

She opens her eyes again, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Nah, that ain’t right, either. It’s not that we can’t do it… it’s that we haven’t yet.”

Though Apple Bloom was confident it was possible to make such a kite, she didn’t know how to. And neither did Mr. Anon. He was just as lost as she was. It was funny… a grownup who she thought was so smart, and so kind, who was so much older than her, who had seen and done so much more, and who came from a whole other world, even… and in this thing, they were in exactly the same boat. All they could do was ponder and guess. Plan and try. Fail and learn.

And that was it, wasn’t it? In that moment, she truly understood what he meant when he said that growing up and getting older doesn’t give you all the answers. There were times, even in the recent past, when she would look at her older brother and sister and think that they could do anything. But now… it wasn’t that they could do anything… nopony could. But what they did do, they tried their best at, and that was part of what made them seem so amazing to her.

Mr. Anon was like that, too. Even though he didn’t know the answer, he believed that he’d find it… that they’d find it together, because he believed in her, too. So what good was moping around because the day didn’t go like she wanted? What good was getting discouraged just because something wasn’t easy? He believes in her… so doesn’t she owe it to him to try her best? Doesn’t she owe it to herself?

She raises her head from the table, a full smile now shining on her face and her spirits lifted. Like he said, they weren’t beaten yet. In a way, they’d already won. They overcame everything the wind threw at them with three different kites… so if they could somehow combine those three into one, that’d be all they’d need. If they could magically make a kite that could grow and shrink whenever the wind changed, that’d be—

“Woof!”

And seemingly right on cue, Winona pushes open the screen door, excitedly greeting her little master before turning her attention to the irresistible bowl of food placed out for her. Apple Bloom, her pondering interrupted, turns in her chair to watch the door sway back and forth, enjoying that lingering feeling of pride at watching something she made work as it was meant to. To her slight surprise, the elastic bands on either side smoothly guide the door into the latch, even with the extra force of the wind from outside pushing against it.

And as she watches, her eyes widen, her golden irises shrink, her mouth hangs open and she forgets to breathe…

“Oh… oh my gosh! That’s it! THAT’S IT!!”

The little pony spins around in her chair as fast as she can, reaching for the box of crayons and the stack of paper, and as the next hours pass, the kitchen table disappears underneath page after page of notes and drawings.
	
> 9 - A Story
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The sunrise brought with it a new surprise when you pushed aside the curtains covering the work room’s bay window. The many trees near the house have started to blossom, with small but brilliant green leaves peeking out from the buds that cover their branches. It seems you’ll have to enjoy your clear view while it lasts, because in a week or two, a shifting wall of green will be the only thing you’ll be able to see from this window. The field beyond will disappear from sight, as if it were a dream, at least until the arrival of autumn and the dancing leaves of red, orange and yellow take to the wind and slowly reveal it once again.

And where will you be when that time comes? You can imagine several possibilities, but life, and the passing of the seasons, always brings surprises. The very fact that you’re now here in this world is a testament to that, just as much as the stories of your past which fill the pages of your journal. As the years have gone by, you’ve come to understand that to live well is to make the most of them, regardless of what they might be, joys and tragedies alike.

Your pen glides across the page, recording the final few lines of your latest tale. This story’s ending was already known, but the conclusion to this new day, and of this new chapter of your life, has yet to be determined. The only way to discover what will be, and what triumphs or hardships will pass along the way, is to keep turning the pages and braving the twists and turns, or lack thereof, that follow.

With a smile, you close the journal, the last word written for now. The empty mug on your desk draws your attention, and you stand and head to the kitchen to refill it. But just as you finish, the day’s first surprise decides to make itself known in the form of a series of frantic knocks on your front door. Curious, you set the mug aside and go to open it, wondering just who in the world would be visiting you this early in the day.

The door swings open with much more force than usual courtesy of a strong gust of air that suddenly travels along the forest path that leads to your porch. It whips the surprisingly bowless red mane of your unexpected visitor around, and tests the strength of the buttons that hold the worn saddlebags she wears closed. Regardless, she doesn’t flinch, golden eyes trained on your own and shimmering with barely contained excitement.

“Mr. Anon! Mr. Anon! I did it! I figured it out!”

Before you can even say a word to her, she rushes past you, right between your legs and into the house. “C’mon, c’mon, you have to see this!” she urges, bolting down the hall and into your work room at a staggering speed that you’ve only seen matched before by a certain pink pony.

Wondering just what in the world has her so wound up, you quickly close the door and follow after her. She hops up into a chair, then on to the table’s surface just as you enter the room, shrugging off her saddlebags and then franticly digging into them. A series of papers filled with various crayon drawings, in addition to some assorted knickknacks and supplies pile onto the table, with the filly standing in the middle of it all, shuffling through them as she searches for something.

“Apple Bloom? What’s going on? What’re you doing here so early?”

“There it is!” she gasps, pulling a specific page from the papers she was sorting through. She trots over to you, holding it proudly in her mouth. “’ook ‘ere!”

You take the paper at her insistence. Much like the others, it’s a crayon drawing of something, with nearly-illegible notes scrawled in the margins and arrows pointing to various pieces. Aside from the presentation, it actually looks really well thought-out, though you’re still not exactly sure just what it is you’re looking at.

Apple Bloom lets out a frustrated sigh when she sees the confusion on your face. She spins around and gathers a few more things from the pile, bringing them over to the table’s edge where you’ve taken your usual seat.

“Here, I’ll show you,” she begins, arranging the items in a line before you. “I figured out how to make a kite that changes size in the wind!”

“What? Really?” you ask in disbelief.

She nods happily. “Eeyup! An’ this is the key!” She points her hoof toward the leftmost object.

It looks like a small length of rope, but upon a quick inspection, you find it’s made of an elastic material, kind of like a bungee cord. With a little pull you can stretch the material a good length, only for it to snap back to its original shape when you relax. It’s nice, but you’re not quite sure how it addresses the problem.

“You’re gonna have to help me out here,” you tell her with a sheepish smile.

“C’mon, this is easy, Mr. Anon!” Apple Bloom giggles. “Look here.” She pulls over the next item, a long wooden dowel rod. “This is the kinda thing we use for the cross spar of our kites, right? Longer ones for the bigger kites, and shorter ones for the smaller.”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“Well, what if, instead’a usin’ a big one, we used two smaller ones instead, and arranged ‘em like this!” She pulls over two smaller rods and positions them staggered but parallel to one another, with several inches of overlap between them. “Then we make some guides to attach near the ends so they slide!”

She retrieves two very small rectangular blocks of wood, each with two evenly spaced holes drilled through them lengthwise. She inserts the dowel rods through the holes, and just as she said, they act as guides to keep the two rods evenly spaced from one another while also allowing their free movement back and forth.

“You see? It’s a spar that changes size!” She pulls the rods apart until the two guides meet. “Here’s the spar for our biggest kite!” She pushes them together until the guides reach the halfway point of their respective rods. “And here’s the middle one…” And further still, until the guides are on the rods’ opposite ends. “And the smallest!”

You take another look at the drawing in your hand, and suddenly the myriad of doodles and notes start to make sense. The cross spar is the most important piece in determining a kite’s wingspan, so having one capable of changing sizes would really be like combining all three of your kites into one!

“Hey… this might just work!” you exclaim, lifting the spar to examine it. “We could cut some notches in these, and have some kind of way to lock it in place, and that’d let us adjust the size of the kite to the wind conditions before we launch it.”

The filly chuckles and shakes her head. “C’mon, Mr. Anon, you ain’t thinkin’ big enough! Even if we did that, it wouldn’t do us any good, ‘cause the main problem we have is that the wind’s been so crazy lately! Even if we set it to the right size when we launched the kite, it’s just gonna change on us once it gets in the air.”

You rub your chin in thought. “Yeah… you’re right about that. But in that case, how do we fix the problem?”

“I already told you,” she points to the elastic band again. “It’s this!”

She trots over and takes the contraption from your hands, then carefully attaches each end of the elastic band to the two dowel rod ends closest to the center. The elastic material pulls the staggered ends toward one another, which serves to push the rods further apart thanks to the guide pieces. In the end, it extends the variable spar to its longest size, roughly the same as the spar used on your largest kite. Apple Bloom steps away, then eagerly looks back at you to see if you’re following her train of thought yet.

But in all honesty, you’re still lost. Sure, the elastic band will keep the spar extended, but how is that the solution? You stare at the variable spar for a few more moments before it hits you… you can’t just look at this piece, you have to consider the fully assembled kite around it, as well as how it behaves… in… the wind…

Your jaw drops as the epiphany hits, and you raise your head to see Apple Bloom’s smile beaming back at you.

“You… you’re a genius. There’s no other way to say it. How in the world did you figure this out, Apple Bloom?”

Her ears fold back and a slight blush develops on her yellow cheeks. “Shucks, I… well, I just kinda… thought about it really hard, I guess.” She scuffs a hoof on the table, her embarrassment fading away. “That’s really nice of you to say, Mr. Anon, but… I know I’m not that smart. Sometimes I can get carried away with stuff, and my grades in school ain’t the best. But when it comes to fixin’ stuff, and figurin’ out how things work… well, for some reason, it kinda comes easy.”

You smile, reaching your hand over to ruffle her mane, a task made easier now that her bow is absent. “Don’t sell yourself short. This is really amazing.”

And it truly is. She actually came up with the idea for a kite that adapts to the wind. When a strong wind blows, it fills the kite’s sail, pushing it back. Because the spar can slide, the billowing of the sail will pull the wings in and thus make the kite smaller. When the wind dies down, the natural tendency for the elastic band to contract will force the spar outward, pushing the wings out as well and making the kite bigger!

She solved it, all on her own, and words can’t describe how happy you are for her… how proud you are of her. AJ truly is blessed to have such an amazing little sister.

“Well… I suppose there’s only one thing left to do,” you hum, reaching down underneath the table to retrieve the bag of supplies you stored there last evening. “When you went home early yesterday, I made a trip to town to pick some stuff up.”

You empty the bag’s contents on the table, next to the pile of stuff she brought, and the look of excitement in her eyes at all the new things there brings a smile to your face. You lean on the table, watching for a moment as she pokes around at the supplies and struck with a feeling of amusement by the turn this day’s already taken, before asking the question she’s no doubt anxious to hear:

“Well, what do you say? Ready to build a kite?”

A joyous hop and delightful cheer is her answer, and the two of you immediately get to work.

Your errands in town yesterday yielded quite a bounty for new kite-making enthusiasts such as yourselves, and there was no question that you’d incorporate the new materials into your latest design. The old pine dowel rods were replaced with much a stronger oak you were able to acquire from a carpentry shop. You finally got your hands on some real ribbon courtesy of Rarity, which meant the kite would gain two tails – one on the tip of each wing, hopefully increasing stability in addition to looking nice. And of course, another box of cookies was bought, because building kites was hard work, and you needed a little reward throughout the process…

But the most amazing thing of all was completely unexpected, and also courtesy of the fashionable unicorn seamstress. When you stopped by to purchase the ribbon, she suddenly went to the back of the shop and returned with a spool of fabric unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Instead of being a solid color like the scraps you already had, it seemed to shift and shimmer between several unique shades, in addition to being embroidered with sweeping, airy patterns that made the colors stand out even further. The moment you saw it, you told her there was no way you could ever afford it, but she simply replied that it was a gift courtesy of a friend. The spool was placed in your arms, and she sent you on your way, the ribbon you originally asked for safely tucked inside the bolt’s hollow tube.

Taken together, it truly was an impressive collection of stuff. The challenge now was to make something worthy of it all. Your time spent together with Apple Bloom building kites this week has served to refine your skills to the point where the two of you hardly need to speak to one another to move as a well-coordinated team. You each know what you need to do, what the steps of the process are, and where your strengths and weaknesses lie. The two of you move around the table with practiced ease, cutting, sewing, sawing, measuring, marking and taping like a well-oiled machine.

The difference, this time, is the incorporation of the variable cross spar mechanism in the design. Luckily, you happened to have a hand drill, wood scraps and some sandpaper from an earlier crafts project in storage. Apple Bloom already brought the elastic band with her, so that accounted for everything you’d need. The trick, and perhaps most important of all, was choosing the correct amount of tension for the band. You didn’t know how to really determine that without some test flights, but she seemed to already know what to do about it, so you left it in her hooves.

The morning hours drifted away in the blink of an eye. Lunch was prepared and eaten despite the little pony’s pleas to keep working, and then you continued on, the light of early afternoon shining through the window to help you along the way.

And then, at last, it was finished. The two of you take a step back to admire what you made, both at a loss for words. The shimmering sunlight dances across the fabric, shifting its colors through the spectrum of the deepest reds to the lightest of yellows, and everything in between. The embroidery seems to shine on its own, and the effect is so grand that you can imagine it being hung somewhere in a gallery as a tapestry to be admired and talked about for years to come.

But oh, what a waste that would be, and neither of you would ever allow it, because the proud profile and sweeping wings leave no question that this is an object that yearns to fly. To deny it that opportunity would be a crime. Even as it rests on the table, surrounded by fabric, wood scraps and shavings, tails unfurled but unmoving, it still looks as if it wants to take its rightful place in the sky.

You turn your attention to your partner, finding some amusement in the awestruck look on her face. Again, you can’t help but pat that red mane, asking her, “We’ve gotten a little better at this over the course of a week, huh?”

“Yeah…” she whispers. “It’s just… it’s… it’s amazin’!” She turns to you, beaming with excitement. “Mr. Anon… we’ve gotta fly it! We’ve just gotta!”

You nod. “Yeah, that we do.”

But the moment those words leave your mouth, the sunlight fades away and the glass of the window rattles in the wind, and you shift your gaze outside to see a mass of dark clouds gathering beyond the far edge of the forest.

“Oh no. Not again…” you groan, shaking your head at the sight.

Apple Bloom turns from the window, a cautious hope in her eyes. “Well… I mean, the storm ain’t here yet, right? And it’ll probably bring some good wind! C’mon, Mr. Anon, we can still fly it for a little while! Just until it starts gettin’ bad; it won’t take long!”

Several drops of rain pelt the window not a moment later, increasing in frequency until the downpour begins in earnest. You give the little pony a half-hearted smile, your disappointment at the turn of events nearly as pronounced as her own.

“Sorry, looks like mother nature’s not with us on this one,” you say, turning on a nearby lamp to help illuminate the now much darker room. “But the good news is, with the way these squalls have been lately, there’s a good chance that we’ll still be able to get out there today, even if it might be late. We just have to be patient and wait it out.”

“Okay…” the filly sighs, ears drooping as she slouches in her chair, the sight of which causes you to laugh despite yourself.

“Oh, don’t make that face,” you tell her, standing from your own chair. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s not like we have to pass the time by just sitting here and sulking.” You walk over to the small end table in the corner of the room, retrieving the red journal that was resting there and holding it up for her to see. “I can’t promise they’ll be good, but I can read you some stories until the rain lets up, if you’d like.”

The suggestion seems to lift her spirits, as she perks back up as soon as you reclaim your seat.

“Yeah… that might be fun. But, are you sure you don’t have any board games we can play instead?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “Sorry. I’ll be sure to get some the next time I’m in town.” Opening the journal, you begin to thumb through the pages, looking for something she’d like. “Ah! Here we go…”

You pass the next several hours telling stories, with the pattering of the rain on the roof and window, as well as the howling of the wind acting as a steady accompaniment. You don’t actually read what’s written on the pages as it is for fear of boring her, but merely use it as a guide, condensing things down and providing your own improvisational narration at times, and even funny voices when called for. The response is just as you’d hoped— smiles, laughter, and rapt attention paid during the dramatic moments. When one story ends, she clamors for another, and you can’t help but oblige her as the afternoon wears on.

And then you reach the end, with all the pages beyond still blank. Yet the rain, though diminished, continues to fall outside. You close the journal and set it on the edge of the table, and you watch once again as Apple Bloom’s smile somewhat fades as she realizes there are no more tales left to tell. You glance out the window to see a promising sign— the storm is starting to break, as gaps in the clouds now allow the late afternoon sun to shine through.

“Hey, looks like it’s clearin’!”

Of course, you’re not the only one who notices. Still, it’s falling too hard, and the wind is far more fierce now than usual. It’ll be a while yet before conditions improve to the point where you could risk a flight.

“C’mon, let’s go, Mr. Anon! We can fly it now, right?” She excitedly hops up on the table and trots to the edge nearest the window and your seat. “We did such a good job on it, it’s bound to fly, even with a little rain in the mix!”

“I don’t know… I think we should give it a little more time,” you answer honestly, preparing yourself to resist the inevitable pout that may result. “But I have one more story while we wait. This one’s not written yet, but I think you might like it.”

She nods in understanding, moving back to her seat with a bit less cheer than before, but still attentive. You cross your arms and lean back in your chair, considering where to start.

“Alright… well, this one’s about a boy. Come to think of it, in this story, he’d be about your age. Anyway, this boy had a hobby he really liked— to build model rockets.”

“Model rockets?” she asks, tilting her head. “You mean… rockets like fireworks?”

“Yeah, kind of like fireworks. Though they weren’t supposed to explode. If that happened you knew you’d really messed up! No, model rockets were meant to fly high into the sky, and then return to the ground safely, usually with the aid of a small parachute in the nose or back.”

Her ears perk up and she adopts an unusually contemplative expression, likely considering how they were made.

“So, this boy liked to build these rockets from scratch. Well, aside from the engines which were really complex. His dad helped with those. But anyway, uh… there was one that he worked really, really hard on. It looked great, and he was sure it would fly really high. The day came when he finally finished it, and just as he and his dad were getting ready to go out to launch it, it started to rain.”

“I know what that feelin’s like…” Apple Bloom grumbles.

You smile. “Yeah. He was so disappointed, because he really, really wanted to see it fly. But launching a rocket in the rain… well, it was a bad idea all around, and he knew that, as frustrating as it was. But then…”

She leans forward, eyes wide. “Then what? Did it stop rainin’?”

“No,” you reply, your smile widening. “No, something crazy happened. Out of the blue, his dad said, ‘Forget the weather, let’s go fly it anyway!’ And that’s what they did.”

“R-Really?” she gasps with surprise.

“Yeah. But it sure wasn’t easy! There they were, out in a field a far drive away from the city, the rain coming down on top of them with only a couple of umbrellas for protection while they were trying to get the ignition system set up…” You shake your head, rubbing your temples, but your smile still bright. “Let’s just say… after the first hour and a half, they were really having second thoughts about the whole thing.”

“So… were they able to get it? Were they able to make it fly?”

You nod. “Yeah, it flew. Not very well, but it flew. All in all, it wasn’t a very good launch, and they weren’t able to tell how it really performed until after they tried again on a different day.”

Apple Bloom’s ears droop again and she slouches once more in her seat. “Oh. So you’re sayin’ they should’a waited. Y’know, I think I get what you’re tryin’ to tell me, Mr. Anon…”

“No, that’s not it,” you say, smiling once more as those little ears perk up again. “The boy and his dad flew a lot of rockets together, but that one, in the rain, was the one they remembered the most fondly. Even if it wasn’t the best flight, the time they spent together, be it the excitement of the drive out, to the misery of setting up in the field, to the waterlogged drive back… it made it all worth it. I guess what I’m trying to say is, despite the circumstances, it became a cherished memory for them both.”

She falls silent and ponders the story while you stand and walk over to the window. The rain has slowed to an almost imperceptible drizzle, and the clouds in the distance can no longer hold back the spectacular sunset now washing over the field. Light streams into the room, highlighting the intricate embroidery of the kite on the table once again. You place a hand over your eyes to help shield them, and focus your attention on the trees at the far edge of the field, and your smile fades as you watch them sway back and forth wildly in the fierce wind. It’s still not safe to fly, and likely won’t be until tomorrow at the earliest.

But the kite isn’t yours, is it? It’s hers more than anything, and she should have the final say. After all, if your life has taught you one thing, it would be that in the end, whatever she decides here will be the correct choice.

With a smile and a shake of your head, you turn away from the sunset and back toward your eager companion who remains lost in thought, at least until you speak once more.

“Well? I’m ready if you are.”
	
> 10 - Flight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The road home for Applejack was long and winding, but it was finally nearing an end. She was up with the sun and on her way soon after, bidding farewell to her presently annoying brother and kindly grandmother to start on her way back to the family farm. What followed was ten hours of traveling at a brisk trot as mile after mile passed her by, with several more hours of necessary breaks to rest sprinkled along the way. The last fourth of the trip was the worst part of all, considering the harsh winds and rainstorms she had to pass through, but the last mile itself was thankfully clear, with sunlight peeking through the clouds as if to show her the way.

But as grueling as the trip was, it wasn’t all bad. Though she’d never readily admit it, she was happy to have a reprieve from all that thankless work. What she would readily admit was that she was also looking forward to seeing her little sister again, as well as all her good friends. In hindsight, five days away from home really wasn’t much, but it felt like an eternity to her, and she was glad the trip was over.

She passes through the entrance gate a little after dinner time, still somewhat soaked from the recent downpour and exhausted from her travels. Her first order of business after trudging inside the farmhouse is to head to the bathroom and towel herself dry. Once that’s done, and she looks at least a little less like she just showed up after running an endurance race, she heads to the kitchen to try to track down her little sister and have a quick bite to eat to renew her energy before she has to hit the road again for Sugarcube Corner.

“What in tarnation…?”

But the sight that greets her as soon as she gets there freezes her in her tracks. There, framed by golden light from the window and seated at the kitchen table is a particular pink pony, happily snoozing away, a snot bubble rising and falling as she snores.

“Pinkie Pie?!” Applejack whispers, her confusion at the sight of her friend napping in her kitchen still unable to overcome her manners. She trots over to the sleeping mare, only to notice the bags under her still-closed eyes and the tiredness on her face. The poor pony looks absolutely exhausted, so Applejack resists the urge to wake her and instead starts poking around the kitchen for any clues as to why she decided to take a nap here of all places.

The first thing that catches her eye is the sight of the list she left for her little sister, unfurled in the table’s center. Each task has been diligently checked off, and she smiles with pride. The thought of Apple Bloom then causes her to wonder just where said little sister was, considering she hadn’t run into her yet. Was she out in one of the fields or outbuildings, or maybe running an errand in town?

Before she can consider it further, the sound of the back door opening, along with the pitter patter of little paws on the hardwood floor draws her attention to Winona, who runs and leaps into her hooves the second she catches sight of her.

“Alright, alright! I missed ya too!” Applejack giggles, trying to dodge the doggy tongue darting around her face while keeping her voice down. “Were ya a good girl while we were gone?”

The faithful border collie answers with a low whine, her tail wagging so hard that she nearly wiggles out of Applejack’s grasp. Carefully, Applejack sets Winona down, ready to reward her with some much-desired bellyrubs, but an unfamiliar clicking sound draws her attention back to the door for a moment. Curiously, the screen has closed on its own, and when she stands to her hooves and trots over to investigate, it’s easy to tell why.

“Would ya look at that…” she mutters, her emerald eyes following the length of the elastic bands now connected to the doorframe. Gently, she places a hoof on the door and pushes it outwards, watching with amusement as it’s pulled back, clicking into place in the two-way latch. “Ya were really busy while we were gone, weren’t ya, Apple Bloom?”

“Woof!” Winona loudly agrees.

Instantly, the pink pony’s head pops up from the table, her eyes frantically sweeping back and forth. “I swear I didn’t do it! Everything was already covered in frosting when I got there! I…”

Applejack fixes her friend with a deadpan stare. “Have a nice little nap there, Pinkie Pie?”

“AJ! Wow, you’re back early!” Pinkie exclaims, quickly ramping up to her usual level of boundless energy. She wastes no time in hopping out of her chair to give her orange friend a big hug.

“’Cause you called me back here, remember?” Applejack replies with a roll of her eyes, trying to ignore the pink cheek pressed to her own. “Ya should be in town bakin’ up a storm right now if your deadline’s tomorrow like ya said. What in tarnation were ya doin’ here snoozin’ the afternoon away on our dinin’ room table?”

Pinkie’s eyes widen. “Oh! The festival! Yeah, we finished all the baking for that already. Mr. Cake went to make the delivery earlier this morning.”

“You WHAT?!”

“Yep, yep! We had to pull two all-nighters in a row to get it all done in time!” she giggles.

“So… you’re tellin’ me…” Applejack murmurs, one of her eyes twitching involuntarily. “That I came all the way back here early as fast as I could for nothin’?!”

“Uh… well, our schedule got real crazy a few days back and I maybe kinda sorta forgot I sent you that letter,” Pinkie replies, sheepishly looking away and tapping her front hooves together. “Whoopsie!”

The exhausted farmpony groans and massages her temple with a hoof, working in desperation to stave off an inevitable migraine. “Oh, for the love’a— consarn it, Pinkie!”

“My bad!”

Applejack lets out a deep sigh, pushing her frustration away as best she can. “Well, what’s done is done… there’s no use gripin’ about it now. D’ya happen ta know where Apple Bloom is?”

“Apple Bloom?” Pinkie tilts her head, tapping her hoof in thought. “Oh, she’s probably at Non-non’s. She wasn’t here when I came by this morning to bring food over, so she must’ve left already.”

With a relieved sigh, Applejack trudges over to one of the dining room chairs and hops in, placing her head on the table and closing her eyes as if to start napping just like Pinkie was mere moments ago.

“Anon’s, huh? Well, that’s good. I’m real glad she didn’t have ta spend all week by her lonesome. But poor Anon’s probably at his wit’s end by now, ‘specially since nopony asked him whether he wanted ta be a foalsitter or not this week. I really owe him one for this.”

“Oh, I don’t think he minds that much. Apple Bloom says they’ve been having lots of fun making kites together!”

Applejack smiles. “And that’s another thing… how in the world did she talk him inta that? Anon doesn’t seem like the kite-flyin’ type ta me… I mean, can ya imagine him runnin’ around on those two long legs’a his…?” She raises her head from the table and laughs. “It’d look right silly, don’t ya think?”

“Oh, Non-non’s really fast when he wants to be,” Pinkie replies, giggling a few times herself and prompting Applejack to wonder exactly how she knew that. “But Apple Bloom told me the kites were his idea to start with. She’s just helping.”

“Ya don’t say…?” Applejack murmurs, her curiosity piqued. “I wonder what—”

“Hey, I know!” Pinkie suddenly exclaims, hopping out of her seat. “Why don’t we go visit them right now? We could even take some of the food I brought with us and have dinner together if they haven’t eaten yet!”

Applejack sighs and shakes her head. “Pinkie, I just spent the entire day on the road… the last thing I wanna do now is walk all the way ta Anon’s house on these achin’ hooves. Apple Bloom oughta be back soon, anyhow, and I’m sure I’ll see Anon again later in the week, so…”

“But don’t you want to see the kites they made?” Pinkie asks, a look of pleading in her sapphire eyes. “C’mon AJ, it’ll be fun! I mean, it’s not like you have anything better to do now, right? Don’t worry, I’ll carry all the food, all you have to do is come with me!”

Pinkie bounds over to the refrigerator and opens it, digging around for the food she left there earlier in the day, while Applejack merely chuckles and rolls her eyes. It’d take more energy than she currently has to get out of this, and really, the idea didn’t sound so bad once she thought about it. She was anxious to see her little sister, as well as Anon, and she was curious just what they’d been up to together while she’d been gone. Plus, a little more walking on sore hooves was nowhere near as bad as the sleepless night spent baking she thought she’d be facing when she got home.

The pink party pony, her saddlebags packed with food, moves to the front door and calls after her, and Applejack stands from her chair to follow. Patting Winona once more for good measure, she carefully closes the back door, admiring her sister’s work on the screen, then joins her overly-energetic friend at the entrance.

Together, the two set out, crossing first through the Acres’ gate and turning down a familiar path just off the main road which skirts the forest’s edge not much later. Leftover rainwater drips from the leaves of the trees lining the path, and the muddy road itself is covered by many large puddles that they carefully avoid. The breeze, while constant, is warm and soothing thanks to the humidity spurred on by the last few hours of daylight shining down upon the forest, painting the surroundings with a faint golden hue.

Applejack closes her eyes and breathes deep, relishing the feeling of the steady wind across her coat and listening to the sound of her hooves against the earth and the quiet, joyful humming of her friend. Soon, she can sense the change in the land as they travel. The leaves on the trees seem to retreat into their buds as they pass by. The clouds above gather together, painting distinct bands of light and shadow upon the trail. The wind changes too, from calm and steady, to strong and still. At certain times, she has to hold her hat with a hoof to prevent it from being torn away, while at others, the quiet is so striking that each hoofstep echoes like thunder in her ears.

A familiar home appears in the distance not much later, and with it the sensation of a very light drizzle of rain upon her back. The two quicken their pace, eventually reaching the covered porch and its promise of safety from any sudden downpours. Pinkie raises a hoof and knocks on the door, but after several minutes, and many more enthusiastic follow-up knocks, no reply is heard.

“Doesn’t seem like they’re here, Pinkie Pie,” Applejack sighs. “If they were headin’ ta the farm from here we would’a passed ‘em on the trail, so I reckon they must be in town.”

“Hmmm…” The pink pony’s ears twitch to and fro, her tongue stuck out in concentration. “Nope! They’re here somewhere, I can tell. Hey, I know, maybe they’re out back flying right now! Let’s go see!”

The farmpony shakes her head, holding her hat steady with a hoof as another gust rolls across the porch. “Pinkie, there ain’t no way anypony with any sense would be out flyin’ kites in this weather. Apple Bloom might be crazy enough ta try, but I know Anon’s got way more sense than that. Now c’mon, we oughta head back ta the farm while there’s still daylight left. They might even be there ahead of us if they were comin’ from Ponyv—”

Before she can finish, the pink party pony has already turned and leapt off the porch, following the path from the front of the house to the back yard. Applejack lets out an annoyed grunt and follows after her, well aware that there’s no point in trying to convince her to head back until her curiosity is settled.

Once more, she feels the light pattering of raindrops across her back as she passes through the yard and the dense line of trees at its far edge. She weaves around the trunks, following after the cotton candy tail just ahead of her until it suddenly comes to an abrupt stop and she’s forced to stop as well.

Applejack steps around and alongside Pinkie, who stands still at the edge of the band of trees that divides the home and its yard from the large field just beyond. For a brief moment, she almost asks her friend why she decided to stop here of all places, but instead finds her gaze drawn forward to a sight which robs the words from her mouth.

The light of the setting sun washes over the field, framed by the swirling clouds in the distance. Already, stars are visible in the deep blue sky overhead, shimmering between the constantly shifting gaps torn through the azure bands by the wild winds. The colors of the setting sun tinge the horizon with brilliant shades of red, yellow and orange, shifting the hue of the dancing leaves of the distant western trees, almost as if autumn has arrived once more. The light travels across the tall grass, which waves in every direction at the wind’s whim, painting some in deep shadow, while others shine as if they were wheat ready for the harvest. Even to a pony like Applejack, who’s witnessed sunset after sunset during long days working in the fields, the scene is breathtaking and beautiful, and she can’t help but admire it.

But more breathtaking still, and the very thing which roots her hooves in place and prevents her from either moving or turning away, is the sight of the lone kite that sails in the sky above the field. It too holds the colors of the sunset; of gold and scarlet and fire, as if it were a fragment somehow pulled and captured from the sun itself. The very colors around the sweeping embroidery seem to shift with the light as the long tails billowing from its wings weave back and forth, painting sweeping patterns as if the sky itself was an artist’s canvas. The airy dance is mesmerizing, and for a moment she wonders if she’s hallucinating from her fatigue, but a wayward raindrop falling on the tip of her nose forces her to blink, and when she opens her eyes again the kite is still there, along with the two unmistakable silhouettes standing in the field, also framed by the sunlight and nearly as radiant.

Anon stands there amid the tall grass, arms crossed and watchful gaze trained upon the kite high above. The many pieces of clothing that he wears are damp with rain, but they still manage to flow and flutter in the strong wind. In contrast to her own overwhelming sense of awe, Anon’s simple smile reveals that he’s satisfied to merely witness the spectacle unfold, trusting completely in the in the smaller figure nearby while also quietly watching over her, ready to lend a hand should it be needed. The sight causes an old memory to come to mind, and Applejack’s breathing hitches for just a moment as a youthful feeling she thought she’d long forgotten suddenly wells up in her heart once again.

And it becomes all the more pronounced at the sight of Apple Bloom, her little sister, red mane and tail matted and wild from the wind and rain and the kite’s spool held confidently in her mouth as she runs to and fro. Her genuine and joyous laughter rings out clearly despite the wind’s howl and each step she takes is nearly as light and airy as the kite itself, which somehow, despite the fact that it should be impossible to fly on such a day, she directs with the same effortless grace a bird would display when sailing from one branch to the next.

As her emerald eyes watch the two of them together, she recalls the letter her sister wrote her, and she smiles brightly as a new meaning behind the words and the simple drawing appears. It makes itself known each time the little pony looks back at the human with every turn she takes, searching for his approval, or just to make sure he was watching her, just as she herself did so many years ago, when she turned back after a first nervous and clumsy cast of a fishing line into that small stream, yearning for the guidance and reassurance that every child, at times, so desperately needs. Tears well in her eyes as the memories swirl around her like the wind, and the realization comes that the beautiful kite her little sister so expertly guides is proof of the time she and Anon shared together; moments she would’ve spent alone and miserable without her family which were instead found in the company of an unlikely, though clearly beloved new caretaker and friend.

With a shake of her head, Applejack wipes the scattered tears away with her hoof, remaining still and silent for fear of somehow intruding on the scene. It seems the two haven’t noticed either her or Pinkie yet as they stand just outside of the field, partially hidden by the trees. Pinkie herself has remained oddly quiet, too, and when Applejack glances over to check on the pink mare, she finds that she’s simply watching the two with a goofy smile on her face. It warms Applejack’s heart, and she feels a strong urge to whisper some words of thanks to her friend.

But it’s instead a gasp of surprise that suddenly leaves her mouth as she witnesses what happens next. Out of the blue, the wind howls and swirls stronger than it has all afternoon, and it pulls the kite, its fabric soaked through and heavy now thanks to the light rain, sharply to the side. Apple Bloom, though caught by surprise, has the sense to move with the wind, but already it’s too late to prevent what’s to come. The gale mercilessly drives the kite into the bare branches of the proud sycamore tree which stands atop the hill in the field’s center. In an instant, the beautiful fabric is torn to pieces, the wooden rods of the frame bend and snap, and the two tails are shredded and pulled apart, wrapping themselves all around the branches.

The little pony drops the spool of line onto the grass, the line itself now hopelessly tangled in the tree and useless. She stands before it and watches the wind move the torn fabric and ribbon back and forth, as if they’d suddenly become leaves, and Applejack’s heart sinks at the loss of something they must’ve worked so hard on together, and which must’ve held so many happy memories for them both.

“Oh, Apple Bloom…” she whispers under her breath, the strong instinct to run over and comfort her sister compelling her tired legs to move. But before she can take a single step forward, a pink hoof is raised to stop her, and she finds herself captured by Pinkie’s strangely focused sapphire eyes.

“No, wait. Just watch.”

The odd seriousness in Pinkie’s hushed tone compels her to follow the advice, and she remains where she is. The fierce wind, which not a moment ago was the cause of the tragedy, has disappeared entirely now, and it’s so quiet she can even hear Anon’s footsteps on the grass as he walks over to where Apple Bloom stands.

Her little sister’s ears perk up when she hears the human approach, and she’s certain when she catches a glimpse of those golden eyes again, they’ll be filled with tears. But when Apple Bloom turns back to face him, there isn’t a hint of sorrow in her expression. She stands tall and confident, wearing a big, happy smile and with excitement in her voice.

“Did ya see it, Mr. Anon?! Did ya see how it flew?”

Anon takes a seat on the ground next to her and pats her head. “I saw, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.” He pulls his hand away, showing her a soft smile of his own. “I’m so proud of you, Apple Bloom.”

The little pony responds to his words with a cross between a laugh and hiccup. Though her smile remains, small tears begin to flow down her cheeks, and she sniffles as she tries to wipe them away.

“Don’t worry,” Anon reassures her, helping by using his sleeve as a tissue to clean her face. “I’m sure the next one’ll be even better. There’s no need to cry.”

Apple Bloom shakes her head, laughing and sniffling at the same time. “No, it ain’t about that…”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Her ears fold back and she blinks some fresh tears away. “I… I don’t know. I’m so happy, but I can’t stop cryin’.” She smiles at him again and their eyes meet. “What about you? Why are you cryin’, Mr. Anon?”

“Oh?” The human brings his hand to his face and pulls it away, surprised to find a few tears clinging to his fingers. He smiles and laughs as well, turning his gaze back to the tree, the pieces of fabric and ribbon now unmoving without the wind.

“…It’s a long story.”

With a nod of understanding, Apple Bloom trots over to sit beside him. He places his hand on her head once more, scratching behind her ears, and together they quietly watch the last minutes of daylight stream through the tree’s tangled branches.

Applejack closes her eyes and shakes her head, fighting back her own tears at the sight of how much her sister’s grown in just the few short days she’s been away. After a deep breath, she turns back to the still strangely silent pink pony by her side.

“Pinkie Pie… I want ta thank ya from the bottom of my heart for bringin’ me out here and givin’ me the opportunity ta see this. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able ta repay ya, but I promise I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Pinkie’s soft snoring is the only reply she receives, and Applejack chuckles at the sight of her friend fast asleep on her hooves. Leaving her to her dreams for the time being, she heads out into the field toward the two figures resting side by side in front of the tree.

“Hey there, y’all!”

Her voice rings out clear and strong, and the two turn around in surprise. Apple Bloom immediately leaps to her hooves as soon as she sees her sister’s face, while Anon remains where he is, content to let the family reunion play out.

“Sis! What’re ya doin’ back so early?” the filly asks, rushing over to give Applejack a big hug which she gladly returns.

“I came back ta lend Pinkie Pie a hoof, but it turns out she didn’t need me after all,” she replies, ruffling her sister’s mane out of habit. “I saw that ya took care of all your chores, and even fixed the back screen. Ya did a great job lookin’ after the farm while we were away.”

The filly blushes at the compliment. “Thanks, Sis.”

“But I need ya ta do one more thing for me,” Applejack continues. “Pinkie Pie’s standin’ over there next to those trees snoozin’ away with some food on her back. Can ya go wake her up and at least get her inside the house before it gets completely drenched by the rain? Anon and I’ll be right behind ya, and then we can all have some dinner. How’s that sound?”

The filly looks over to Anon and he nods back at her. “Go ahead, it’s unlocked. I’ll take care of things here.”

“Leave it to me! I’ll handle it in a jiffy!” she declares, rushing to the line of trees. Applejack chuckles and watches her for a few moments more, before turning and trotting the rest of the way to take a seat beside the human on the grass.

“Howdy there, partner.”

He turns and smiles at her. “Welcome back, AJ. Good trip?”

“About as good as I could hope for,” she replies, closing her eyes. “But I’m sure glad ta be back home.”

She turns and admires the tree along with him for a few moments. Though the sun has already set, the final crimson band of dusk still clings to the horizon in the distance, granting them enough light to see clearly. It gives her the opportunity to see some of the embroidery up close, still recognizable on the larger torn pieces that begin to flutter as the breeze picks up once more.

“Y’all sure made somethin’ else,” she mutters, breaking the silence.

“Oh, did you get to see it in flight?” he asks. “I wish I could take credit, but the design was all thanks to Apple Bloom. You truly have a gifted little sister, AJ.”

Her smile widens. “I know. And I thank ya so, so much for lookin’ after her while I was away. It means the world ta me, and it’s easy to tell that it meant the world ta her, too.”

“She was a joy. I mean that.”

She nods happily, turning back to the tree, and several more minutes pass before she speaks up again.

“Y’all must’a worked really hard.”

“We did.”

“But… I don’t get it, Anon,” she says, her eyes cast down to the earth and her sorrow at the sight of the ruined kite slipping through for just a moment. “If ya worked so hard on that kite, and put so much effort in it, then why’d ya let her fly it on a day like today?” She raises her head again, curious emerald eyes capturing his own. “I know this couldn’t’ve been your idea… I mean, ya must’ve known what would happen…”

Somewhat to her chagrin, the human chuckles at her questions and directs his gaze to the stars above, now shining bright as the clouds drift away and the light on the horizon fades.

“She wanted to fly.”

He speaks the words calmly and definitively, as if they were all that needed to be said. Applejack, not satisfied with the answer, moves closer, but when she does, the sight of his expression freezes her in place, unable to move further or speak.

Because she could tell he wasn’t looking at the stars in that moment. He was looking beyond them, beyond the sky, beyond the veil itself, into a time, a place, a world she could never truly know. He closes his eyes again and breathes out, then turns to her once more with a sad, yet serene smile that causes her heart to tremble.

“AJ… sometimes, when they want to fly, you just have to let ‘em.”

The tears which she held back now flow freely. In part, because she knows he’s right, and it’s something she’ll have to learn to accept as her sister continues to grow. In part, because he’s already shed all the tears in the world over what he’s lost just by being here. She didn’t know the whole story, but she knew enough through their talks out on the lake, and much like on many of those walks back home afterwards, her heart once again feels the need to cry for him.

And in part, because of the pang of selfishness she feels when her honest spirit tells her clearly that even despite all that, she’s grateful that he’s here with her now. Unable to hold herself back, she leaps into his arms and wraps her hooves around him, holding tight. He calmly returns the hug, his comforting fingers dancing through her golden mane as she sobs against his chest and the light of the newly risen moon shines down upon them from above.

The tears stop in time, and she places an ear to his chest to listen to his heartbeat, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of his arms around her.

“Ya told me before I left… if I needed somethin’, ta tell ya,” she says, turning to meet his eyes. “Well, I need somethin’.”

“You know if it’s something within my power, I’ll do it.”

She grins. “Careful now, ya haven’t even heard what I want yet, and if ya say somethin’ like that I’m gonna hold ya to it.” Her expression softens. “Tuesdays and Thursdays… those are the nights I do the cookin’ for dinner over at the farm. I want ya there with us, every single time. No excuses. I promise the food’ll be ta your likin’, and I’m sure Apple Bloom would enjoy seein’ ya around more often too.”

She turns away again, closing her eyes and reclaiming the spot against him that brings her the most comfort, hugging him even tighter for just a moment before releasing her grip and curling up in his arms.

“Anon, our home, and our family, are always open ta you. Don’t you ever, ever forget that, ya hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he whispers, his free hand finding one of her curled forehooves and squeezing it to make the promise official.

“And…” she continues, somewhat hesitant. “I know I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. When you’re ready, sugarcube, I’d love ta hear all about ‘em. Everything you care ta tell.”

The human chuckles, the sound rising up through his chest and clear in her ears. “Someday soon, I promise. And careful now, ‘cause if you say that, I’ll hold you to it, and there’s a lot to tell.”

Their shared laughter rings out above the sound of the crickets and the cool night breeze, and not much later the two reluctantly part. With one last glance at the sycamore tree and the memory now held within its branches, they turn back, their steps guided by the light shining from the large bay window of his work room. Though partially obscured by the trees, it’s a clear beacon all the same; a sign that, no matter where one comes from or where they’ve been, eternally represents the promise of warmth, of a meal shared together with family and friends, of a gathering of those precious to one another, and of a place where treasured stories and memories will be recounted and made alike.
	
> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I got one! I got one!” the filly shouts, suddenly breaking the silence that had settled over the lake. She stands to her hooves, rocking the boat back and forth a little too much for your liking, before spinning around and whipping the line from the water. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a clean hit, and the hook comes undone, sending the poor fish on the end of it flying through the air to land in the lake’s opposite end with a splash. 

“Whoops…”

Her older sister chuckles, careful not to disturb her own tail still resting over the side of the boat. “Ya gotta ease off a little more, Apple Bloom. There ain’t no need ta put everything ya have inta it unless you’ve hooked a big one.”

“But that felt like a big one for sure!” Apple Bloom protests. “I don’t get it… I mean, how are you supposed to know what kinda fish it is if you can’t even see it?”

Applejack closes her eyes and hums, then answers, “Well, I suppose it’s somethin’ ya just have ta learn from experience. The more fishin’ ya do, the easier it’ll be ta figure out how big a fish you’ve got by the amount of pull on your tail.”

The smaller pony grumbles and looks to you for sympathy. You simply shrug your shoulders, considering tail fishing isn’t exactly your area of expertise. Still, you try to help in the ways you’re able, and you carefully re-bait the end of her line so she can cast it into the lake once more.

It turned out that your kite fishing setup didn’t do much to improve your fishing. The final kite you made flew well enough, but despite all your efforts, the fish in the lake didn’t seem to care all that much. It’s since been retired from its primary duty and entrusted to the care of a fellow amateur kite enthusiast. She visits often, sometimes in the company of her friends, and on particularly windy days she can’t seem to resist taking it for a flight in the field. It truly has been left in good hooves, and you suppose in the end that’s all you can really ask for.

About a month has passed since that surprising first week of spring. Since then, just like you promised, you’ve been spending much more time with Apples, be it at their farm, or by welcoming them into your home. Slowly, and much to her delight, you’ve been teaching Apple Bloom about things you actually know how to do, though getting into the model rockets is still probably a ways off. As talented and as quick a learner as she is, you’re not sure if you’re ready to trust her around explosives just yet. That aside, the days have undeniably been full of joy and laughter, and slowly but surely, your heart has come to recognize that you’ve been drawn into a family that you dearly love.

The short fishing lesson ends not much later, and you row the boat back to the little dock and tie it to the pilings. Apple Bloom leaps out and bids you farewell, with a great big hug for you both, before running into town to find her friends. The pretty farmpony by your side retrieves the picnic basket she stored under her seat earlier in the day, and together the two of you rest under one of the weeping willows that grows near Ponyville Lake, enjoying a quiet lunch in the company of the birds and the warm breeze that weaves through the leaves. When the meal is finished, the supplies are packed away, and she curls up close by your side, eyes closed, attentive ears perked, and wearing that simple smile that never fails to captivate you.

As you pull the red-covered journal from your coat pocket, you catch a glimpse of a kite flying in the distance, and you watch it for just a little while, idly wondering what memories it holds, or if they’re being forged at this very moment, somewhere beyond your sight...

Letting those thoughts drift away, you turn your attention back to the journal in your hands. And after moving the torn piece of ribbon used as a bookmark safely aside, you continue on.