The Apple Pouncer
The sun crept behind the hills in the distance as Applejack slid the last tub of apples into the wagon. She briefly removed her hat to wipe at her brow before harnessing up to the wagon and hauling it towards the barn.
The autumn chill helped cool her down after a tiring day of apple bucking. Big Mac and Apple Bloom had already carted off the hay bales and apples for the night’s festivities and Granny Smith had been helping decorate around town – she was left alone to finish up the day’s harvest before Nightmare Night began.
Slipping off the wagon harness, Applejack looked back proudly at the section of orchard she had just bucked. The trees were starting to turn golden yellow, a proud coat of arms representing Sweet Apple Acres. She sighed contentedly as her eyes glanced over the trees before returning to her duty.
The image of those fine autumn trees brought a smile to her face as she unloaded the tubs of apples, but something made her pause. She frowned and turned to look back out to the orchard.
The trees shook in a gentle night breeze, but other than that, there seemed to be nothing out of place. Applejack squinted her gaze at one of the closer trees, studying every quivering golden leaf before shrugging and resuming her duty. Maybe it was her tired mind playing tricks, able to pull the wool over eyes that could spot an apple-eating worm half a mile away.
Because she could have sworn she saw a pair of red dots glinting in the growing twilight near the top of one of the trees.
One by one, Applejack shoved the tubs into the barn where they’d be safe from the critters of the night – the family could sort them into barrels tomorrow. It was Nightmare Night after all, and making memories with one’s friends and family was more important.
As she was unloading the second tub, there was a whooshing sound over her head that caused Applejack to pause. She looked straight up, but saw nothing but silver pinpricks poking their way through the wine-colored sky.
Applejack worked her jaw in thought. That hadn’t been a gust of wind, had it? Was wind always that big and solid-sounding?
“Aw come on now, Applejack,” she muttered to herself with a chuckle. “You’re lettin’ tonight get the better of ya. Ain’t nothin’ to be scared of.”
She shook her head and resumed unloading the last of the apple tubs, albeit at a quicker pace. She sorted the apple tubs over by the stack of empty barrels in preparation for tomorrow. This was followed by ensuring the barn’s shutters and doors were properly locked.
As she closed up the barn for the night, a cold gust of wind made her shudder. The sooner she got to the Nightmare Night festivities and got some warm cider in her, the better. She was sure the other girls would find it funny how spooked she’d been wrapping up her chores.
Applejack took two steps from the barn before there came a clatter. She whirled around to face the barn, which had grown darker and more imposing as night encroached. She swallowed hard, a slight quake entering her legs.
It sounded like something had fallen over inside.
“Probably Apple B-Bloom,” Applejack muttered. “I keep t-tellin’ that dang filly to make sure the tools are secure. That’s all it is.”
Reluctantly, Applejack unlatched the barn door and swung it open. She never noticed how much it creaked, and winced as the sound reverberated around the enclosed space. With all the other entrances barricaded, the barn was enveloped in near blackness.
Applejack felt around beside the entrance for one of the spare lanterns. Once she found it, she switched it on and held it aloft. The flickering golden glow barely made a dent in the darkness, so Applejack stepped further in.
It took only a minute to find the tool in question: a pitchfork was laying on the dirt floor of the barn. Applejack breathed a sigh of relief, picking up the tool and propping it against the barn’s back wall.
“Just a pitchfork, no big deal,” Applejack sighed. “It just fell down…”
Applejack trailed off as her gaze slowly raised. The pitchforks were kept in the hayloft of the barn, mostly because it was their rightful place among the stored hay. And Apple Bloom never worked in the hayloft. And Big Mac did. And Big Mac always secured his tools.
And the nearest ladder to the hayloft was feet away from the fallen pitchfork.
The quake in Applejack’s legs returned with enough force to spread up her spine. Slowly and cautiously, she approached the hayloft and peered up the ladder into the entrance. The faint silver light of the rising moon illuminated the hayloft – most critters couldn’t climb that high, so there was rarely a need to secure it at night.
“H-Hello?” Applejack called up. “Anypony there?”
She shied away from the ladder when there was a faint shuffling sound, dampened by mounds of hay. But someone—or something—was indeed scurrying around up there.
Applejack scowled in an attempt at courage. “Rainbow Dash, so help me if that’s you playin’ another one of your pranks!” she called up. “The cider ain’t here either.”
There was no response. Snorting through her nose, Applejack gripped the ladder and slowly made her way up. She kept her focus on telling off a snooping Rainbow Dash, forcing the what-if question to the back of her mind.
“What if it ain’t her…?”
Applejack poked her head through the hole in the hayloft’s floor, scanning the space around her.
The hay had definitely been disturbed recently – there was a slight trail to a larger pile towards the opposite end of the hayloft, near the front of the barn. A few dust motes flittered in the moonlight leaking in from outside.
“Rainbow Dash,” Applejack called again as she stepped into the hayloft, but her voice had quieted down. Dash wouldn’t pull a prank like this, would she?
“Rainbow Dash?” she asked as she stepped closer to the hay pile, her voice barely at indoor volume. The sound of her hooves scraping hay was much louder.
“Dash?” she croaked as she stood before the pile.
Silence filled the hayloft, save for the blood pumping through Applejack’s ears. She wasn’t sure what she was dealing with now – the thought that it was her friend pranking her had become a pleasant, fleeting memory.
She jumped back when the hay shifted. A pair of crimson eyes opened, their slanted pupils studying Applejack up and down. Whatever features the creature had were lost – camouflaged in with the hay.
Applejack half let out a scream – in that time, the creature in the hay lunged at her. Applejack had turned to make a beeline for an exit – whether that was down the ladder or through the roof was undecided as of yet.
Before she took more than a step, the creature was upon her, pinning her to the hayloft floor. Hay flew around Applejack and the creature as the former futilely kicked her legs to keep on running.
“Help!” Applejack cried out into the quiet night. It was all she got out before she felt something sharp bite down on her neck and she let out a cry of pain.
To her surprise, the creature jumped off her in an instant. It took a few moments of wriggling before Applejack’s body became aware of it.
Applejack turned to see a familiar mare standing with her in the hayloft. Her coat had been dyed to a dreary yellow, and her soft, comforting wings had been replaced with leather. Her ears were pointed and furry, matching her unkempt mane and tail.
“Oh my goodness,” Fluttershy said quickly as she spat out her fake fangs. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Fl-Fluttershy?” Applejack asked, bewildered. Her eyes were wide as saucers, her breathing still ragged. She winced when the Pegasus leaned in to examine her neck.
“I’m so, so sorry, Applejack. I was only trying to scare you,” Fluttershy quickly explained.
“Ya did a good job of that darlin’,” Applejack said, flopping on her back with her legs limp. “Hoowee.”
Fluttershy hesitantly laid down next to her. “I… um… thought I might try my hoof at Nightmare Night scaring again… just for you.” Her cheeks flushed bright enough to show in the dim light.
“Aw shucks, ya shouldn’t have,” Applejack said sarcastically, before chuckling. She wrapped a leg around Fluttershy. “I’m kiddin’. Happy Nightmare Night to you too.”
Fluttershy leaned into the embrace. Applejack leaned in and pecked the top of her head. Upon closer inspection, the ears and tails were the same as her fangs – fakes, no doubt a part of Rarity’s “Flutterbat” costume.
Speaking of the fangs… “Hey, uh, I’m not bleedin’, am I?” Applejack asked hesitantly.
Fluttershy blinked and shook her head. “No. It just left a little red mark,” she replied.
Applejack chuckled as she felt Fluttershy plant a dainty peck on the spot. “Ya know,” she remarked with a smirk. “There’s better ways to go about givin’ your marefriend a hickey.”
As Fluttershy hid her burning face behind her false wings, Applejack laughed and held her close.