Moth Milk is good for you.
AppleJack was walking through the orchard when she was hit.
She had been just walking along, a flashlight in one hand and a bale of cotton tucked under her arm.
Early morning had always been her favorite part of the day. There was something magical about it; the crisp coolness of the air, the way the morning dew turned everything it touched into shimmering diamond, that sense of endless potential. Most of all, it had a sense of… between-ness It was, somewhere in between the dark, mysterious night and the bright, vibrant day.
AppleJack rubbed her chin with her free hand. That “in-betweenness” feeling; Sci-Twi had a word for it. What was it again? Luminol? Luminous?
Before her train of thought could pull into the station, something slammed into her. All the air was driven out of her lungs. Sparks flashed before her eyes and the next thing AppleJack knew, she was laying flat on her back.
Ugh…what…? I…” AppleJack groaned, trying to catch her breath. She rubbed her head as the world careened around her like a drunken carousel. Her body felt like she’d just taken several speeding freight trains to the face. All at once. And the freight trains were made of solid lead.
When the world finally stopped moving, AppleJack slowly picked herself up, wiping dew from her hands. She brushed a few blonde strands from her face, then plopped her trusty stetson hat back to its rightful place.
Once her head cleared, AppleJack looked around for a few minutes, trying to find out what she’d hit. At first, she thought she’d bonked her head on a low-hanging branch or something, but she couldn’t see anything. Far as she could tell, her path was clear.
This didn’t make any sense. She couldn’t have imagined it. She’d never been bowled over by a figment of her imagination. Not yet, at least.
Gingerly, AJ checked herself. As far as she could tell, nothing was broken, all of her limbs were still attached to their sockets. She couldn’t see any noticeable bruises. Whatever had hit her hadn’t left any marks whatsoever.
Dusting herself off, AppleJack picked up her fallen flashlight and cotton bale.Whatever. She’d worry about it later. Right now, she had a flock to milk.
She walked up to the barn door and reached for the bolt. The moment her fingers touched it, the barn became…strange.
That was the only way she could describe it. The building itself didn’t change; a wooden dome painted a faded brick red. A familiar fixture in her life since she was a kid. Yet at the same time, she saw a strange, alien structure that had just appeared in the middle of her farm.
Just as soon as it had appeared, the rogue feelings vanished, sinking back into the murky depths of her subconscious. AppleJack just shook her head and opened the door. Probably just her nerves, that was all. She was probably still a little rattled from being bowled over.
“Mornin’, girls!” Applejack called as she walked into the barn, taking care to dim her flashlight as she dumped the cotton bale into a feeding trough. “Come and get it!”
The moment they spotted breakfast, a dozen moths the size of large dogs fluttered down from the ceiling. The trough became a squirming, chirping mass of fur, wings, and feathery antennae.
Papery wings stirred up a hurricane of dust, hay, and loose moth fuzz as the large jostled for a place at the trough.
“Easy, there. No need to crowd.” Applejack cooed to her flock. “There’s plenty for everyone.”
Slowly, the flock settled down and started digging in. Each moth dipped its almond-shaped head into the trough and started tearing at the fibrous foodstuff with their mandibles, stopping a minute to swallow before dipping their head back into the trough for more. The air was filled with chittering, chirping moth-speech; the moth equivalent of a conversation at the breakfast table.
Applejack pulled up a stool and sat down next to the closest moth. She gave the insect’s fluffy thorax a friendly pat. “Mornin’ Bessy!”
Bessy looked up and gave a friendly chirp, feathery antennae wiggling in a friendly manner. Her compound eyes glinted in the dim light.
“Ya ready?”
With another chirp, Bessy raised herself up on six spindly legs. Six fluffy teats dangled from its underbelly, each swollen and heavy with milk.
“Whoah Nelly, you’re pretty back up there.” AppleJack cracked her knuckles and planted her rear on the milking stool. “We’d better get started!”
Giving the lactating Lepidopteran another pat, AppleJack bent over and gently gripped one of the teats. She gave it a squeeze. A stream of off-white milk squirted out of the teat and into the pail. Once the teat was empty, AJ moved on to the next teat. And the next teat. And the next teat. Slowly, her hands started falling into the same rhythm she’d practiced since she was a kid
Squeeze-squeeze-squeeze,
squeeze- squeeze-squeeze.
Rest
Squeeze-squeeze-squeeze,
squeeze- squeeze-
AppleJack stopped in mid-squeeze. She put a hand to her brow, suddenly very dizzy. What was she doing? Why was she milking a moth? How was she milking a moth?
“Well, what the hell else should ah milk”. AppleJack mumbled.
Another thought flickered into her head. It was her, sitting alongside a cow…and milking it.
AppleJack nearly fell off her stool laughing. A cow. A cow. Why would anyone want to milk that? Most people wouldn’t want to get within fifty feet of one! What was next, was she going to shear a sheep? Ride a horse?
AppleJack shook her head. Maybe Rarity was right. Maybe she was working too hard.
Once Bessy was empty, AppleJack gave the moth one last pat, then moved on to the next moth in the flock. And the next one. And the next one. Like a machine, AppleJack mechanically moved from moth to moth, filling bucket after bucket with viscous, frothy moth milk.
Once the entire flock was milked, AppleJack dusted off her hands and emptied the bucket into a milk can. “That’ll do, girls”, AppleJack said, She tipped her hat. “‘ 'Til next time!” She said, taking her flashlight and bolting the barn door. She walked outside just in time to see the suns rise.
On the horizon, a sliver of molten gold peeked over the horizon, followed by a smaller copper-colored companion. The slivers slowly grew into half-circles, then into full shining discs of light. pushing back the darkness.
It was times like this she pitied people who slept in.
After a good stretch, AppleJack walked back through the orchard towards the farmhouse. Warm suns-light washed over the orchard, bathing the trees in gold and red, casting twin shadows. A flock of Air-Jellies emerged from their pocket universes and leaped into the sky.
Slowly, the trees rustled. Arm-like branches spread, feasting on early-morning light with paddle-shaped leaves. Hundreds of tiny eyes opened at once, following AppleJack, blinking in spooky unison.
“Mornin’ everyone.” AppleJack waved to the trees. A few of the semi-sentient plant-animals waved back. As she walked she noted that a few of the trees had gnarled, oozing blisters on their sides. A beaked head poked out of one of the blisters. It cocked its head at AppleJack, feathers slathered in blood-sap.
Chickens! What were chickens doing in that tree…thing? And what was with the two suns?
AppleJack put her proverbial foot down, forcibly shoving the intrusive thoughts into a corner of her mind. She’d had chicken infestations before. They were disgusting and annoying as hells, but she’d never been confused by them.
“Goshdarn chickens!” AppleJack cursed as she opened the screen door to the farmhouse.
Slipping out of her work boots. The air was filled with the salty, fatty smell of breakfast. AppleJack’s stomach growled like a wounded sheep.
“Mornin’, Hon!” AppleJack said as she walked into the kitchen.
“And a good morning to you too, darling.” Rarity said, hugging her wife with two arms while the other two prepared breakfast. With one hand, she sliced open a moth egg and dumped the goopy contents into the skillet, while the other dropped a slice of baconfruit. The fatty chunk slowly tried to inch its way out of the skillet.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Rarity gave the fleeing slice a solid thwack with the spatula. It shuddered, then lay still, accepting its fate. “I’ll have breakfast ready in a moment, darling.”
“Thanks, hon”
AppleJack took a seat at the kitchen table-beast. The semi-sentient creature cooed, releasing squirts of pheromones into the air.
You too!” She said, giving the table-beast a pat.
Something about the pat made her thoughts go ballistic. None of this made sense. Why did Rarity have four arms? What was this thing they were sitting at? Where was the rest of her family?
Shut. Up! AppleJack slapped the side of her head.
“Darling?”Rarity said with a concerned look on her face. “Are you all right.”
“Yeah, Ahm fine.” AppleJack said.“Hey Rares, remind me, Later today I’m gonna need some anti-chicken spray.”
Rarity groaned “Don’t tell me, another chicken infestation?”
“Yep. Second one this month. Darn critters just won't leave us alone.”
“Well, at least they have good taste in trees”
“Yeah.”AppleJack sighed. Might as well tell her. “Hey, Rares?”
“Yes, Darling?”
“Can Ah tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
AppleJack sighed. “Well, I was heading to the moth barn when…”
She told Rarity about the events of the past hour; the mysterious impact, the weird feelings, and the like. The table beast squirmed, squirting more pheromones into the air. Rarity just stood there and rubbed her chin.
“So what do ya think, Hon? What’s going on?”
“I think the answer is quite simple.”
“What?
”you need a break.”
” Rarity I-”
“Darling…” Rarity said in her “Shut up and Sit down” voice. “You have been overexerting yourself to the point it is starting to affect your mental health. There’s only one solution! ” Rarity reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
“Hon, what are ‘ya doing?”
“Booking a session at the Canterlot City Day Spa.”
“Rares…”
“Ah!” Rarity held up a finger. ”No excuses.” She tapped something on her phone. “There! At Two O’ Clock this afternoon, you and I are going to the Spa. End of discussion.”
“Rares…”
“No ‘buts’! You are going to be pampered and you are going to like it!” Now.” She scooped the egg and baconfruit mixture onto a plate and set it down in front of AppleJack. With a hacking cough, the table-beast spat out a fork and a knife. “Now let's eat”
Defeated, AppleJack slumped in her chair and started shoveling breakfast into her mouth. Maybe Rares was right. Maybe she needed a break.
Just then, she remembered. Of course, Liminal. That was the word she was looking for!