“You’re going to go, aren’t you? To get her back?” she asked.
I didn’t even grace her with an answer, but instead simply turned and walked out. Apple Jack stood outside, leaning against the barn door, seemingly lost in another thought.

“Apple Jack. Does your family own any guns? Any weapons of any kind?”
The rancher startled and shot me a look of complete and utter shock.

“Why do you need a gun, Sebastian!?”
My resolve was unwavering, and my eye intense.

“Because as soon as I lay eye on that pink bitch, I’m gonna make sure she’s not getting up again.”
The blonde pony’s eyes fixed upon my own for several moments before she spoke, but when she did, her voice was hushed and rather breathy. She knew what I was about to do… It was as though she was giving me a last rite.

“Okay, Seb… Come with me.”
She led me out, over the field Macintosh was plowing. It seemed that even he knew my intentions and stopped to stand and wave his hoof. His eyes were more solemn than usual.

“Workin’ hard, Big Mac?” I called to him.

“Eeyup.” he responded. “Good luck, Bunny Boy.”
Once in the house itself, my dear friend lead my through many twists and turns until coming to an old, cracked, and decrepit door.

“This room was my father’s trophy room. He was a truly great hunter. I hope his spirit guides you, Sebastian…” she said, and pushed the frame open.
Apple Jack did not at all over-state her father’s hunting ability. Almost any kind of game a hunter could imagine: wolves, bears, elk, tigers, lions, antelope, and even a few wild dragons were stuffed and posed all throughout this sanctuary of victory. Each one had a cartridge and gun of some kind propped near it. Jack led me to one of the dragons, taking up what appeared to be a double-barreled shotgun of some kind.

“This one gave him a real hard time, but he got him after about a week on safari. He’d want a good hunter to have it…” she handed me the rifle, which much to my surprise and delight was a Ravensdale .50 caliber double-barreled Dragon Bane. A safari rifle designed specifically to kill ultra-tough game like dragons, harpies, and hydras. I’d never actually fired one, but it wouldn’t matter. Not with what I had in mind…

“Thank you, Apple Jack…” I mumbled quietly, in awe of the weapon in my grasp.

“Wait. There’s one more, and you’re really going to like this one.”
When I turned, Jack held in her hooves a large, hand-crafted box. Within its red velvet folds lay a long revolver. A Colt .44 Magnum with six custom rounds, each in their own fold... A relic… Beyond antique… The gun presented to me was probably well over three hundred years old… And she was offering it to me…

“No, Apple Jack, I can’t…” I began, but the cowfilly was insistent, pressing the box toward me.

“Please, Sebastian… As a gift. I want you to have it.”
Those eyes were ones I could never say no to. Not after what I’d done to her family. I propped the rifle back against the dragon and took hold of the ivory grip. The thing was beautiful! Its still-gleaming chrome finish, perfectly embroidered barrel and sheer feel of tradition had an almost religious effect on me. It was as though God himself was bestowing the power to defeat my foes to me.

My Lord, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name… Thy kingdom come… Thy Will be done… On Earth, as it is in Heaven… Give us this, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who’ve… Trespassed against us… For yours is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever… Amen.
As I slowly loaded each round into a chamber of the cylinder, Apple Jack closed the case and set it down, wrapping her arms about my neck. Closing the weapon, I craned my head about to look her in the eyes, then embraced her. She was shivering violently and her breathing became sporadic and shallow, as though she was holding back tears.

“Apple Jack, I’ll come back. You know I will. I always do.” I whispered the promise into her ear as though I were talking to a lover. She shuddered at the intensity of the words.

“I know you will, but… Could you do this… For Apple Bloom…?” she requested without allowing me to see her face; no doubt streaming with tears.
It took me several moments before I spoke, but the words finally came to me.

“It won’t bring Apple Bloom back… But if it will bring you closure… I will.”
That did it. My dear friend broke into sobs against my shoulder, shuddering and shaking as though her legs had given out. We stood in that spot for several moments, embracing as I awaited the end of her sobbing spell. Once she regained her composure, Apple Jack handed me four .50 caliber rounds.

“Good luck, Sebastian.” She said, placing her hoof on my shoulder.