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// Chapter 3: Bare Branches// Story: Lullabies Unsung// by Seether00//------------------------------//

Lullabies Unsung

Chapter 3: Bare Branches


	The Cutie Mark Crusader clubhouse was normally buzzing with activity as the three little ponies engrossed themselves in energetic plans to seize the day and strike out into the sleepy town in search of excitement. And cutie marks, of course.

	Not today. Today it was very quiet, much like a volcano before the eruption that destroys the village at the bottom of the slope.

	Three little ponies sat around a scarred  table, each delaying the coming topic in their own way. Scootaloo idly blew upwards, making her forelock flap. Sweetie Belle kept looking at the curtains, trying to figure out if there were any scraps of cloth in Rarity’s recycling bin that would look better than the curtains they had just pieced together last week. And Apple Bloom stared at the floor.

	Finally Sweetie Belle said what was on her and Scootaloo’s mind. “I don’t understand why you don’t just tell us. I mean we’re friends!”

	Scootaloo added, “Yeah! What she said. Friends share; isn’t that what we always say?”

	“But this is family,” moaned Apple Bloom. “I can’t tell you. Applejack made me promise. It’s got her all tied up into knots.”

	“Well, Rarity’s knots are tied up in knots,” said Sweetie Belle. “She just mopes around the shop with all the curtains closed and does stuff. Weird stuff. What about Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo?”

	Scootaloo shook her. “Nope! Dash seems perfectly normal. As a matter of fact, she’s even more dashical than usual! Dashical’s a word I made up by the way. It’s ten points above awesome. So, anyways, after we got done with my flying lesson, I stuck around to watch her practice, and its gotten even more awesome! I’m talking at least ten times as awesome!” She gestured for them to lean closer. “Because, now don’t tell anypony, but Rainbow’s been practicing some banned stunts. Banned! she squealed, wings abuzz. 
	
	“Crazy dangerous stuff! Stunts even the Wonderbolts won’t do like the Dead Mare’s Drop and the Suicide Spiral! Sure, her stunt completion percentages are way way down and her crashes are way way up. But Rainbow Dash doesn’t let a few cuts and bruises slow her down.”

	Sweetie Belle looked up. “I didn’t know you could calculate percentages.”

	“Of course I can't. That's math junk. Sport statistics are completely different. I mean, one deals with numbers, and the other is awesome flying. Duhhh.”

	“Will you two stop yammering if I tell y’all what’s going on?” They both quieted down and Apple Bloom, in stops and starts, spilled the beans. About Applejack, the Elements, everything.
	
	After she’d finished, nopony appeared to know what to say, and they sat, quiet. A bluejay landed on a branch near the window, returning to her nest with food for her young. Their chirps marked the passage of time in place of the clubhouse clock. Apple Bloom still hadn’t replaced the battery.

	Sweetie was the first to break her silence. “Oh my gosh! No wonder Rarity’s locked herself away! I wish I knew how to cheer her up,” she said in a glum voice.

	“Yeah, can’t say I know how to help AJ neither,” added Apple Bloom in the same tone.

	Looking at the two droopy faces, Scootaloo shot up. “Buck up, girls! I’ve got just the thing to turn those frowns upside down. Be back in a flash.” And she was back in a flash, dragging a sack from which she emptied out a...

	“Tada! Our very own Official Cutie Mark Crusaders Sewing Machine Mark I!” Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle peered at it. It was far older than any of the models at the boutique. Constructed of brass and powered by a pedal assembly, it looked like it belonged back in what Granny Smith called “The Good Ol’ Days before all that new fangled electricity made everypony lazy good for nothing.”

	“Now we don’t have to bother Rarity when our capes get messed up.” Scootaloo pointed out.

	With a touch of unease, Applebloom squinted at the sewing machine. The hoofwheel was rusted for one, and who knew where the needle had been. “I sure hope you got all yer shots before touching this hunk of junk, Scoots.”

	Rolling her eyes, Scootaloo took out a cloth and wiped at the rust stains leaving a relatively clean exterior. “C’mon, it’s just a little surface rust. No big deal. It’s fine. Trust me. I fixed it up myself.”

	The other Crusaders shared a dubious expression. “And where exactly did you buy this?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Didn’t you spend all your allowance last week on milkshakes?”

	“Hey, it’s not my fault Rumble challenged me to a milkshake drinking contest. What did you expect me to do, say no? Besides, I found this beauty at the junkyard.”

	Sweetie Belle immediately scooted away from the machine. “You mean this is somepony’s garbage? Ewww!”

	“Hey, you know what they say: one mare’s trash is another mare’s treasure. And will you stop wiping your hooves on the curtains, Sweetie! I cleaned all the parts before I put it back together. Don’t you girls trust me?”

	“I don’t know.” Sweetie still hesitated. “Are you sure it won’t explode or anything?”

	Throwing her hooves in the air, Scootaloo let out a frustrated groan and pushed on the pedal.

	And the sewing machine didn’t explode, or fall apart, or somehow cover them in tree sap.

	Unexpected

	Two fillies sat with their mouths hanging open while the third had a smarmy grin plastered on her face.

	In fact, Scootaloo looked quite proud of herself as the needle slid up and down in smooth, fluid motions.

	“Well butter me up and call me a biscuit! It actually works!”

	“Well duh! That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” said Scootaloo. “Now how about a test run?”

	It didn’t take long to load up the sewing machine with supplies ‘borrowed’ from Rarity’s supply closet. On Sweetie’s suggestion, a quick patch job of the clubhouse’s frayed curtains was chosen as the first test subject.

	The machine ran smoothly, punching holes and lopping thread in a straight, tight line of stitches. Apple Bloom operated the pedals while Sweetie feed the curtains. They were almost a quarter of the way finished when Scootaloo piped up with a problem.

	“Ugh! This is going soooo slow!”

	“I’m pushing as fast as I can!” Apple Bloom panted and ceased pumping the pedal to wipe away the sweat from her brow. “I’d like to see you do any better. Not like this doohickey has a motor or we could just power it with somethin’.”

	“Hmm… Power it, eh?” Scootaloo hummed, tapping her chin for a second. “I got it!”

	A quick rummage and a small mess later, she presented a small pale-blue crystal mounted on a base with a length of wire running from the bottom. “Twilight told me about this once. A lot of old machines had special ports built in so unicorns could power them with their magic if they used a focusing crystal,” Scootaloo explained as she inserted the plug into a socket near the rear of the sewing machine.

	Applebloom narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “And where did you pick up that there crystal from, Scoots?”

        “I may have forgotten to put it back last time we were in Twilight’s lab,” she replied without missing a beat as she fiddled with the hookup.

	“Scootaloo! You can’t just take Twilight's stuff like that!” Sweetie Belle scolded. “You’ll get us all in trouble.”

	“Will you girls chill? I’ll give it back the next time we visit. No harm, no foul. Now let’s crank this baby up. Apple Bloom, you feed in the curtains. Sweetie, tap your horn to the crystal and give it some magic.” As she watched, Sweetie’s horn glowed, humming softly as the crystal blushed green in sympathy. The needle moved. Slowly, but it moved, faster with each passing second. “Yes! You’re doing it!” Scootaloo cheered as she danced around. “Maybe we can get techno-magic cutie marks for this! Give it some more juice!”



	Applejack was sweeping the porch when she heard a distant crack of lightning that roared into a earth-shaking explosion. A cloud of smoke billowed into the air from the direction of the clubhouse, followed by a series of blue and green sparks that drifted up with the breeze. “What in tarnation?” Dropping her broom, Applejack went straight into a frantic gallop. “Apple Bloom!”



	Her ears were ringing, her eyes were burning, but all the rest of her body parts seemed intact. Apple Bloom rolled on her stomach and coughed, trying to resist a groan when she saw the results of their experiment. The clubhouse was a mess… well more of a mess. A blackened scorch mark on the floor outlined the last location of the sewing machine, a charred trail strewn with fragments of twisted metal indicated its path. The jagged hole in the clubhouse wall—somewhat smaller than she expected to be fair—was all that marked the tragic passing of the Official Cutie Mark Crusader Sewing Machine Mark I. Just great. No way those burn marks were buffing out. She’d have to replace the floor boards.

	She checked her rump out of reflex, sighing when the Rorschach test cutie mark—which she admitted wouldn’t have made a lick of sense when she actually thought about it—turned out to be patch of soot. She flinched as she rubbed off the stain. “Ouch, Dang it!” Looking again, no cutie mark, but she had earned a nasty cut along the inner thigh of her rear-left leg. “...And I’m bleeding. Wonderful.” She didn’t pay it much mind. Not the first time she’d been busted up and wouldn’t be the last. “You girls alright?”

	“Yeah.” Scootaloo picked herself up from the corner where she’d been thrown before hobbling over to help up Sweetie Belle. “Just my ankle. You okay?”

	“Yes. I think so,” Sweetie groaned as she wiped away a thin layer of soot from her horn. “But I don’t think Twilight is getting back her crystal.”

	They all looked down at the tiny mound of pale-blue sand. A fresh breeze blew through their newly ventilated clubhouse, and, as they watched, carried the particles around the maze of sewing machine parts embedded in the floor, ending in merry dance out the still smoldering rip in the wall.

	“Apple Bloom!” They turned as Applejack barged in. She took one look at her sister’s bleeding leg before grabbing the first aid kit off the wall and running over to check on Apple Bloom. “What the Sam Hill happened here?!”

	The girls took that as a cue to speak all at once.

	“Woah, woah, woah.” She gestured for them to stop. “You’re tellin’ me you blew up a sewing machine while my sister was sitting right in front of it?” she asked, voice growing shrill as she stared down at the little unicorn.

	“It was all Scootaloo’s idea!” Sweetie protested.

	“Hey!” protested Scootaloo, “Don’t throw me under the wagon!”

	“I don’t care who’s idea it was!” Applejack stamped the floor, freezing them in place. “The fact is you used magic when ought notta!” she shouted, ignoring the tears starting to trickle from Sweetie. “What if Apple Bloom got more than cut, huh? What if she got hurt real bad, or even killed!”

	“It was just an accident, sis,” insisted Apple Bloom, tugging at her sister’s leg. “Ain’t you being a little harsh?”

	“Harsh? Apple Bloom, just take a gander at yer leg and tell if I’m bein’ too harsh! Nope. I ain’t taken’ no more chances!” she replied, and turned on Sweetie Belle. “Get out!”

	“What?” Sweetie Belle sniffled, a river of tears starting to trail down her cheeks.

	“Get out of the treehouse and off my farm! Apple Bloom can’t see you nomore, on account of I don’t want her hurt none. Grab your stuff and get out!”

	“But this is our clubhouse!,” said Scootaloo.

	“Yeah! You can’t do this, AJ!” Apple Bloom yelled at her. “You ain’t got the right!”

	“I can so. It’s mah farm, mah land, so I get to say who gets to stay on it, an right now, I want you off my property, Sweetie Belle. And don’t come back, ya hear? Not ever!”

	“But, AJ!”

	“Hush up, Apple Bloom! It’s for your own good!”

	“No it ain’t!” Apple Bloom shouted, stomping her own hoof. “I’m gonna tell Granny on you! Sweetie, don’t you listen to her. I’ll fix this… Sweetie?”

	But Sweetie Belle didn’t appear to be listening. Sitting in a pool of tears, she stumbled to her hooves and bolted out the door.

	“Sweetie, wait!” Scootaloo made to go after her before her ankle gave out and she fell on her face.

	It didn’t matter how much her leg hurt, Apple Bloom lunged after her friend, kicking, screaming, shouting Sweetie’s name, begging her to come back. But Applejack’s grip was too strong, holding her back, corded steel tendons trembling, limbs conditioned to buck apples all day. Apple Bloom felt none of the usual warmth in her elder sister’s touch, just a cold, crushing grip, her lips drawn in a thin line and jaw firmly set. She couldn’t recognize who this pony was at that moment.

	Apple Bloom glared, hurt, angry, disappointed, a boiling cauldron of negative emotions she’d never felt before. All focused on somepony she loved, that she respected so much. To have her faith betrayed like that…It just made her feel…feel...

	“I hate you, AJ! I hate you!”

	

	Spike didn’t know how much time he had spent sobbing on a park bench. He’d have likely stayed there the rest of the day if Fluttershy hadn’t come along. After taking one look at him, the pegasus had bundled him off to Panini’s Cafe, Ponyville’s outdoor restaurant.

	Thankfully, it wasn’t Sugarcube Corner. He really didn’t feel up to dealing with Pinkie Pie right now.

	Neither had said a word since placing their orders. Fluttershy remained with a kind smile, apparently content to let Spike take all the time he needed. It wasn’t until their food arrived, a pickled beet salad for her and a grilled cheese sandwich dusted with crushed sapphires for him, that what happened at the boutique spilled out of him.

	The sandwich tasted like dirt. He barely finished half as Fluttershy watched, taking small bites of her salad while offering careful nods and comfort here and there.

	“It’s very hard for Rarity right now, Spike. Hard for all us,” she said, after he finished. “We both know she gets… rather emotional. I’m sure she didn’t mean any of it.”

	Spike drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t know, Fluttershy.” He trembled. “You weren’t there. I’m not blind. I know Rarity can be a bit…” He spun a claw as he searched for the right term. “Theatrical? But this wasn’t one of those times. This was real. I’ve never seen her so upset. So, so angry. And do you want to know the worst part?” he asked, looking up. “I think she was right.”

	“Oh, Spike, you know that’s not true.”

	“No, Fluttershy. Rarity was right. When I walked over there today, a part of me was hoping this was it. She’d finally give up chasing those Canterlot stallions, and I’d have a chance.” A disappointed chuckle escaped. “I’m no knight in shining armor, Fluttershy. All I am is a selfish, greedy little dragon who only thinks about himself.”

	Reaching across the table, Fluttershy cradled his claws warmly. “Spike, look at me. Look at me,” she repeated and waited for him to look up. “You are a wonderful, kind, and generous little dragon. We all think so. We don’t say it enough, but we all love you. Just because we are all having a tough time right now doesn’t mean we love you any less.”

	“Yeah, you’re right.” He wicked away a tear. “How come you seem okay with not being able to have kids? No offense, but I expected you to be the most broken up, Fluttershy.”
        
	She returned a soft smile. “Oh, I accepted not having children a long time ago. My animals friends are enough,” said, patting her saddlebag. “Besides, I have my letters to Zuri. What about Twilight, Spike? I stopped by a few times but she doesn’t answer the door.”

	“Honestly, I’m really worried about her, Fluttershy.” He shook his head and sighed heavily. “She’s turned the library upside looking for someway to reverse what the Elements did to you guys. Believe me, it’s a mess. I just had to get out of there. It’s gonna take me hours to clean it all anyway after she’s left for Canterlot tonight.”

	“Canterlot?”

	“Yeah, the Palace library is humongous. Twilight practically lived there before we moved to Ponyville. Who knows, maybe the princesses can help her out. I don’t know. What stinks is that I can’t help at all.”

	Fluttershy blinked. “What makes you say that, Spike?”

	“I’m a guy. I guess I don’t know how you girls feel,” he tilted his head back and stared at the sky, “so I don’t know how to help.”

	“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Spike. Twilight needs you. She’s your… sister? Mom? Oh my, come to think of it. I’m not sure…”

	“Mom? No, no. Twilight’s my….” He tapped a claw against his chin. “...kinda my part-time sister, part-time boss, full-time best friend. It’s complicated.”

	“What about your parents? Oh, I’m sorry, Spike. I forgot,” Fluttershy backpedalled only for Spike to wave away her concern.

	“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got no idea where my egg came from. I’m kinda adopted. On paper I’m a “Ward of the Crown”.” He shrugged. “Twilight was way too young to take care of me when I was hatched. First couple of years, I was raised by the Princess herself. There was a nursemaid who took care of me whenever the Princess was busy.”

	His smile grew warm at the memory and Spike closed his eyes.

	“I called her Nana. Don’t remember her real name, but she was one of the Princess’s oldest hoofmaidens and the only one who wasn’t scared of me. Rumors of a dangerous dragon living in the castle kinda raised a big stink back then. A lot of the staff, the nobles too, had a problem with it. Not Nana. She believed, ‘A child’s a child. Doesn’t matter. Be they pony, griffon, or dragon. A child’s like a changeling. They need love to grow right.’ When I was old enough, I moved in with Twilight’s family. Twilight's mom didn’t mind if I called her mom.” His smile faltered. “You know, I haven’t visited them in a long time...”

	Fluttershy nodded. “I think they would be thrilled to see you.”

	Spike opened his mouth to agree, but was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

	“Bonjour, may I sit,  s'il vous plaît?” Hearing no objections, Fleur took a chair and turned to the pegasus who’d taken to refuge behind her mane. “Pardonnez-moi, but I had to speak to Monsieur le Dragon. A private word with him, s'il vous plaît, Mademoiselle Fluttershy?”

	“You-you know who I am?” Fluttershy squeaked, recognizing the famous fashion model. It was hard not to. The magazines at the spa sported covers with her likeness all the time. She squeaked again as Fleur parted her mane, exposing her to the elegant unicorn’s perfect smile.

	“Of course I recognize you. Photo, she speaks often of you, the one who got away. A shame,” she tutted, cupping Fluttershy’s face. “Such lovely features, non? A natural beauty. Je suis très jalouse,” she grumbled with a playful air. “So much time I require under the makeup artist’s brush.” She let Fluttershy go, and the pegasus quickly tossed bits on the table as she hurried to to leave.

	“I’ll just leave you two alone, then. Remember what we spoke about, Spike.”

	He nodded, watching her scamper away before turning his attention to the remaining pony at the table. “Sorry. I’ve seen you around Canterlot, but I can’t remember your name.”

	“Fleur di Lis,” she replied and offered her hoof which, remembering his lessons on etiquette, he gently kissed.

	“Honoré de faire votre connaissance, ma dame.”

	“You speak Prench? Très impressionnant.”

	He shrugged off the compliment. “Not a big deal, really. You’re kinda expected to pick up these things when you’re an assistant to royalty, you know. Languages, etiquette, protocol, what fork to use. Basic stuff.”

	“So modest. You are a much stronger and older dragon than many give you credit for, mon petite, but even the strongest diamonds have their cracks. I witnessed what happened earlier. I came to apologize to you, Monsieur le Dragon.”

	“What? Why? You didn’t do anything.”

	Fleur simply shook her head. “Our Rarity, she has been struck a rather vicious blow where she is most vulnerable; and, I must confess, I did little to help her in this time of need, but instead struck that same wound with my foolish words. So in a way, the injury done to her most loyal friend was my fault, so I must beg your forgiveness.”

	“Most loyal friend?” he asked, eyes wide.

	“Why of course,” she continued. “I must confess a bit of jealousy when she speaks of you. My Fancy, he is a magnificent stallion whose passions burn with fire, but compared to what Rarity speaks of you? Mere embers.”

	“Fire, huh?” Spike asked, perking up then drooped just as quickly. “I don't feel very much like fire right now.”

	“Non, mon petit chou. Love is the inferno which cannot be quenched.” She leaned over and gave him a peck on the forehead. “Like a phoenix, it is reborn from the ashes every time, stronger and more vibrant than ever.”

	“Really? I got to go talk to her!” he said and hopped out of his chair, only to halt as he saw her hoof was raised.

	“Non, Monsieur Le Dragon. Not now. Mademoiselle Rarity, sa sœur, she is plus désemparé. Sweetie Belle, the poor sweet filly, she sheds many tears,” she tutted. “Cette angish. Si triste… That is why I came to find you. If you return now, Rarity would be torn between sa petite soeur and yourself. Such a choice would hurt her even more at this time, it is true.”

	Spike’s expression fell. “Oh. Bummer. Do you know what happened to her?”

	“Non. It sounded very personal, but quite serious. I did not wish intrude.”

	“Yeah, you’re right. Taking care of Sweetie is more important. There’s got to be a way I can help, but what?” Arms folded again while his head tilted back to glare at the clouds.

	A flock of ducks passed overhead...

	“Ugh! I got nothing! I’d ask Twilight, but she’s leaving for Canterlot to look for an answer to their…. problem.” His eyes lit up. “But maybe…”

	Fleur sent him a moue of disapproval, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Your Twilight is leaving for Canterlot? Alone? Without her indispensable assistant? Surely this is not so?”

	“Not anymore. If anypony can find a solution to this problem, it’s Twilight.” Spike made to run, yet paused, looking over his shoulder. “Tell Rarity where I went, and I tell her…” He shook his head. “No. I’ll tell her myself when we get back. Merci, ma dame!”

	“Bonne chance à vous, Monsieur Le Dragon!” Fleur called as she watched him rush off in the direction of the library. “Bonne chance!”



	She jumped as the door slammed and Big Macintosh stomped in. He wore a frown, and it grew more severe, catching sight of the amber bottle cradled in her hoof.

	Applejack made a poor show of hiding the bottle behind her back. “I wasn’t gonna drink it.” He didn’t need to see the shifty eyes, or the way her mouth scrunched up to know it was a terrible lie.

	Those heavy eyebrows lowered and his green eyes narrowed into slits. “Where’s Apple Bloom?”

	She waved a nonchalant hoof towards the stairs. “In her room, sulkin’.”

	“Granny?”

	“Sleepin’.”

	“Kitchen. We need to talk.” Without another word, Big Mac snatched the bottle away. Head lowered, Applejack followed, tail tucked between her legs.

	As Applejack settled down at the kitchen table, she lacked the will to look up, but stubbornly remained studying a knot in the floor. It was a good knot. An interesting knot. Far more interesting than the sounds of Big Mac moving around the kitchen. The clatter of opened cabinets, the click and rattle of several jars being shifted around—ancient pickled beets from the sound. The clunk of the jug lifted out of its hiding spot and placed on the table. The metallic chiming of good mugs, followed by the laconic glub of a thick fluid filling them. The gurgle went on long past normal and well into disaster territory. A large chipped mug invaded her vision, redolent with the spicy smell of sassafras, filled nearly to the brim with Sweet Apple Acres Special Hard Cider, and Applejack pondered how much of a liver she’d have left come morning.

	It seemed a fair trade.
        
	She tilted her mug back, taking slow, measured gulps, her eyes staying glued to its lip. It did a great job blocking her view of the sprig of wheatgrass hanging out the left side of her brother’s mouth. Pa always used to chew on a sprig of wheatgrass when his dander got up, no matter how much Ma used to glare in disapproval at what she called a disgusting habit. The barest twitch warned her she was in for an argument, and she took another draft.

	The old family recipe made for a dry, crisp taste with a very pleasant tart flavor to temper the sweetness. Award winning and sought-after the land over.

	It might as well have been warm tapwater as far as her tastebuds were concerned. She watched him take small measured sips.

	“Miss Rarity stopped by the stall today. Was looking for you. Wanted to have a little chat. Mare was madder than a snake married to a garden hose on honeymoon.” He held up one large hoof, forestalling her response. “Don’t worry. I talked her outta marchin’ over here.” He grunted. “She was ’bout ready to poke ya full o’ holes. Had a saddle full of needles… probably.”

	“Nah. Knowing Rarity, she’d more likely scold me to death,” she replied with wry amusement.

	A smile tugged at his lips for a moment, “Eeyup,” and disappeared quick. “Reckon, I only bought you a day. You’re gonna have to tussle with her sometime. She’s got all the right in the world to be upset, AJ. You got no business runnin’ her sister off the farm the way you did.”

	The cider jug wobbled violently as Applejack banged the table. “The hay I don’t! It’s my job as her big sis to protect Apple Bloom!”

	The wheatgrass shifted left. “Protect her from what? That filly’s been banged up way worse before.”

	“What? You sayin’ I should just let her alone to bleed?”

	“Ponyfeathers, AJ. You know that ain’t what I’m sayin’. Those fillies get into all sorts of crazy shenanigans. What’s so different this time that ya blew your stack at a little filly so bad you sent off her bawling like her heart was about to burst?”

	“Sweetie Belle was using magic, darn it! Right next to her!”

	He stared at her with an incredulous expression. “So what? Sweetie Belle’s a unicorn. These things happen. It’s not a big deal.”

	“You bet your biscuits it’s a big deal, Mac! You want what happened to me to happen to Apple Bloom? I can’t risk it! I can’t!”

	“That’s what this is about?” He sighed, rubbing his temple and took a deeper pull. “AJ, that filly can barely float a broom for less than a minute. You told us what the doctor said. What happened to you was a one in a million thing that takes more power than well nigh any unicorn in Equestria could ever use. It ain’t gonna happen to Apple Bloom.”

	She shook her head. He didn’t understand. How could he? It hadn’t happened to him. “You don’t know that for sure? What if you’re wrong? I can’t take that chance.”

	“You know how close she is with those two. What are you gonna do? Keep her from school? Follow her around everyday ’til she has her own family?”

	Applejack held firm. “I’ll just have ta hold my ground. Explain it’s for her own good.”

	He couldn’t help the chuckle, earning a stormy look. “Them three might as well be sisters. You tell Apple Bloom she can’t see ’em and she’s just gonna ignore you. Probably climb out her bedroom window if she has ta. What you gonna do then?”

	“Well maybe I’ll just mosey on down and cut a switch from Buford,” she spat. “Fixed you whenever you gave Pa any lip!”

	As soon as those words left her lips, she wished she could take them back. His face lost all humor, turning hard as stone. The same blank mask she’d always seen him don when Pa’s switch came down.

	Old wounds.

	“Look, Mac… I—”

	He loomed over her with a single, “Eenope.” The stalk of wheatgrass quivered with indignation barely constrained, and she shrank in her seat. Big Mac had never, never hit her, even when she’d deserved it. If it happened here and now, she wouldn’t blame him. She’d never deserved it more.

	Instead, Applejack felt a sudden conspicuous rush of cool air at the top of her head. She looked up to find him marching out the kitchen door with nary a backwards glance. After a moment, Applejack gave chase.

	“Mac, wait. C’mon stop! And give me back my hat!”

	He did stop at that, slowly turning around with the same flat look. “Nope. I don’t know who you are stranger, but this here’s my sister’s hat. Perhaps you’ve met her. Good head on her shoulders. Nice to everypony, especially foals. Doesn’t have her head rammed up her plot.”

	Applejack sighed, fighting to keep the exasperation bubbling up inside from spilling out. “Mac, I’m sayin’ I’m sorry, okay? Now stop acting like a foal and give me my hat.” He held the Stetson up and out of range as she reached for it. “Dang it, Mac! I said I ain’t playin’. Now give it here!”

	“Eenope. My sister’s lost outside somewhere right now. I’m just gonna hold on to this for safe keepin’ ’til she finds her way home again. Don’t matter to me how long. I’ve been told I’m a right patient stallion.”

	Applejack grit her teeth as she watched him plod up the stairs and vanish into his bedroom. She spun round with a snort. It didn’t matter. Joke was on him. They had an entire closet-full of hats.

	She walked on over and yanked the knob.

	Locked.

