Gale woke before the sun, as did his brother. Their dreams kept them from sleeping, and giving up on slumber wasn't a challenge.

They went out into the vacant streets together, Flash walking and Gale hovering by his side rather than trying to hobble along with the recent absence of his prosthetic.

When they reached the edge of town, they parted ways without words; they didn't need to ruin the silence of the young morning by saying anything.

Flash made his way to the farm; Gale had given him directions earlier in the morning, and told him everything he knew about the job on the farm already.

He found the farm's arch in the moonlight, marking the entrance to the property, and stood there, leaning against the fence waiting on light.

Right at dawn, he made out what looked like his boss by the descriptions received trotting out of the farm house's door along with three others.

He stayed put, leaning against the fence with his brow lowered, and waved to them, surprisingly prompting the entirety of the group to come over to him.

"You must be Flash," the leader of the party said.

Flash came off the fence as he heard his name announced. He didn't speak, but nodded confirmation.

"Well, I'm Applejack," she said, introducing herself, "and this is my family, Big Macintosh, Granny Smith, and Applebloom."

She pointed out each of them as she annunciated their names, and Flash felt he had to say something. He didn't know what though, so he only shook each of their hooves as they were introduced, trying his best to adorn a nice smile below his perpetual glare.

"Alright, so here's how this is gonna work," drawled Applejack, revealing a crumpled piece of paper, "These are your chores you'll do every day. Once you're finished, come find me, and if I need ya to do anythin' else, I'll tell ya. If there's nothin' else, ya can leave. Sound good?"

He nodded and said, "Yes ma'am."

"Geez, why do you and your brother keep callin' me that?"

He shrugged, giving her a blank look.

"So, this is yer first day, so one of us will be with you for each chore. Get started."

He took the rumpled list, which surprisingly only held three rows, and he read them aloud as the females of the group trotted off.

"Buck the north orchard with Mac, shuck the corn with Granny Smith, and plow the field next to the barn. I'll be there."

Flash couldn't complain; his new boss's demands were simple enough.

He folded up the paper as he finished, looking up to finally gauge one of the largest stallions he had ever seen. Big Macintosh was just standing there, waiting on something, and the two ended up staring at each other for a while.

Then, the stare-down ended abruptly as the stallion silently turned and plodded to the north, and Flash ambled after him.

They reached the northern orchard as the sun began to peek over the horizon. The rays painted the copse gold, and the sparkling dust in the air appeared as glitter among the trees.

Flash's companion stopped amidst the trunks of the trees, laid a trio of waiting baskets around the base of an apple tree, and faced him.

He looked him in the eye, not saying anything, but almost waited until he held his full attention before, without looking, he kicked the tree at his rear swiftly, and the entirety of the plant's fruit fell into the surrounding baskets. The red stallion never looked back; he only looked into the eyes of his newly appointed apprentice, waiting to see if he had learned his lesson for the day.

Flash watched in something very near awe as the sum of the red fruit landed in the wicker baskets, and the continuing vibrations of the tree as the trunk shook from the powerful strike.

He looked back at his new coworker, who was watching him expectantly, not making a sound. Flash walked to the nearest tree, looking back unsurely for confirmation. Mac tilted his head back a bit, raising his chin into the sunset. Flash took it as 'give it a try', and decided why not.

Flash took the trio of baskets, as was laid out beneath each of the trees in the orchard, and set them up beneath the tree as was done prior by Big Macintosh. Again, he looked back for confirmation. The stallion was still watching expectantly.

He hesitantly, due to the lack of advice or criticism, repeated his mentor's process, and took a position facing away from the tree. He looked back again; the stallion hadn't moved.

Flash leaned forward, glared in determination, braced, and threw his rear right leg into the tree's trunk with the entirety of his strength, but all he received in compensation for his efforts was a dull thud. No apples fell.

He looked back again, somewhat ashamed but mostly disappointed, and finally, Big Macintosh offered a bit of advice.

It came in the form of a hoof, slowly gesturing for him to go higher, and a pat on both of his flanks. Though wordless, the message came through clearer than crystal.

Flash tried again, reverting to his position, and this time, aimed higher on the tree's trunk, and, this time with both legs, he struck the tree.

This time, as he pulled his hooves away from the bark, he heard the thudding of apples as they fell to the ground around him. Unlike his teacher, most of the apples missed their baskets, but a good amount of them landed amidst wicker.

He looked up at his coworker, seeking approval. Macintosh winked at him, offering a small smile, and then turned and began working on one half of the orchard.

By the time Flash had gathered the apples that missed their targets, Macintosh had already bucked three more trees. He decided it best to pick up his pace.

He repeated the prior process to the next closest tree to about the same results. Again, he picked up the stray fruit, and looked back to see his partner still diligently working on the other side of the orchard.

Flash retired to his thoughts as he reached the next tree.

He didn't know what quite to think of the job. He didn't seem to be as good at it as the others so far, but at least they were willing to teach, and he was willing to learn.

That was the other thing; they, at least Big Macintosh, still kicking trees behind him, seemed very slow to judge him for anything. His coworker hadn't said anything at his less than successful attempts at harvesting the fruit, but only helped him through it silently. He still didn't know what Big Mac's voice sounded like.

To think about it, none of them had said much to him at all. Applejack even gave him the job without so much as an interview, and it made him question what strings Gale might have pulled to get him here, causing him to grow a bit angry. Within, he scoffed at the thought of his brother babying him and getting a job for him as if he needed his help, which in turn, quickened his pace at bucking the trees.

One thing was certain; whether they knew some things about him or not, they respected his privacy.

He smiled at the thought while he kicked another tree, more of the apples falling to their intended destinations this time.

He came to realize that he respected his employer's family's relative silence as well; he liked not being bothered or questioned, one of the reasons for his somewhat introverted tendencies, and the quiet of the orchard was very relaxing to the mind, even though his muscles were being strained by the work.

He looked back again; Big Mac had completed harvesting about one quarter of the orchard's fruit, whereas he had only completed five trees. He stopped thinking, and devoted the rest of his focus to trying to catch up.

Meanwhile, at the abandoned school house, the work day for the weather team was just beginning.

Gale Force was the first one to arrive at the building in the morning, but all the others, including his new boss Rainbow Dash, showed up exactly at seven o'clock.

The majority of the pegasi went to a board on the wall of the building to punch in, and took off into the air with a pieces of paper.

Gale didn't know what to do. He approached the board once the others had left, hovering a few inches from the ground, and checked for a card with his name in the folder that held the others' shift cards. He found none, nor did he find any other papers.

Just as he was beginning to give up hope, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Hey there Gimpy!"

He turned around to see Rainbow Dash entering the room, trotting in with a folder seated in her saddlebags.

"Find another leg?" she asked, tossing the saddlebags into the corner after retrieving their few contents.

"No, not yet," he answered, careful not to call her 'ma'am', as well as not to show any hints of disrespect to his new boss.

"Well, that's too bad."

It seemed she had either forgotten or chose not to acknowledge that it was her doing that had left him with only three legs as of late.

"Anyway, here's your shift card for this month," she said, handing him a laminated card with his name and the month's name of 'March'.

He kept an open ear while he floated to the wall, avoiding setting down on the floor and having to hobble around, and placed his card into a slot, punching in for the day.

"And, here's the forecast. Your job's simple; all you gotta do is make sure the weather does what it's supposed to."

He nodded, saying, "Roger."

He would've slapped himself if there wasn't anypony else in the room; why was he talking like he was still in a combat zone when he was in Equestria? Must have been engrained after nearly three years of being in the Corps, and two at war, and getting it out would take more than a few days' will power.

Rainbow Dash seemed to not notice or not to care, and quickly said, "Your shift ends at two, and you get a half-hour lunch break at noon."

He turned his ice blue eyes her way, and she smiled consolingly.

For the first time, he read what the forecast of the day actually was; sunny and cloudless until one, and a small sun shower to start at one-thirty.

Gale looked back up and she was gone. The school house was silent if not for the rhythmic sound of his wings' feathers caressing the air.

With a deep breath and a concentrated glare, he flew out of the building, and darted up to the clouds to begin working.

Flash sat on the front porch of the farm house, leaning against the railing with a sheathed ear of corn in his hooves.

He looked at the vegetable with an eyebrow raised, turning it awkwardly about as he tried to figure how to go about shucking it. He looked up to his working partner, the wrinkled and contentedly quiet Granny Smith, peacefully rocking back and forth in her rocking chair, and efficiently peeling the green protective layers from the corn, dropping the shredded greens in one basket, and the fresh, plump golden ears into another.

She was close to half-way done already.

Flash looked down at his baskets; he only had a few done, and they were shabby at that, nothing compared to the perfectly stripped cobs his coworker was producing.

As Granny Smith took another ear in her hooves, and silently began a tear on one end of the green sheath with her teeth, flash watched her technique.

He mimicked her, doing as she did, and was able to finish shucking the cob before she finished two more.

He placed the gilded vegetable in the basket contentedly, but when he looked back at his small mountain of work to be done, the smidgeon of happiness he held departed without looking back.

Flash grabbed another ear, began a tear, and sighed heavily.

Gale raced through the blue, desperately chasing after his target. The dark runner seemed to be trying to evade him, unlikely behavior from a non-sentient storm cloud.

The cumulus cut right, as did Gale, and the pegasus and the cloud zigzagged through the sky above town.

Gale saw the cloud beginning to draw away from him, outrunning him, and he realized as the signals of pain from his wings finally reached his mind that he would have to end the precarious chase soon if he hoped to retain any dignity among his coworkers.

He cut right, diverting from the pursuit and into a cloudbank of cirrus.

The cloud continued on its path, following the grain of feathery white around it.

Suddenly, from the side, a sterling grey pegasus exploded from the vapor. With all his might, Gale bucked the cloud with his forelimbs, and it dismembered into the atmosphere with an anti-climactic puff.

Gale looked up, proud, but saw that none were around to have observed his intelligent ambush of his evader.

The move seemed familiar, as if he had done it before, and then he realized it was because he had, only it was under much different circumstances.

Unable to remain in the realm of thought for long, he spotted another cloud far below him, hovering exactly where it wasn't supposed to be, and dove down on it to continue working.

Flash stood looking at the plow, the harness rested over its top, trying to figure out how to use it.

He couldn't but wonder what in the hay he was doing on this farm, what the hay he was doing in this town, and why he wasn't where he felt he should be; with his brother.

Regardless, he knew Gale was doing what he felt was best; he always had, and he had earned the trust he commanded.

He retreated from the recesses of his memory when he caught movement out of the corner of his good eye, and turned his head completely to be able to see its source. It was his boss; she was watching him.

There, on the edge of the field, leaning against the fence with an anticipant look on her brow, she was waiting.

Flash stared back; his brow was descended in its usual scowl, and his barrel chested body found a way to stand up right despite its fatigue.

Applejack's expectant look prompted flash to action when he realized she wasn't going anywhere, and he reverted his one-eyed gaze to the plow. He recalled a memory of his first coworker of the day, Big Macintosh, and how the wooden yoke had fit around his neck.

He replicated the appearance, sliding the collar around his shoulders, and shook to test its fit. He looked up again; still, she was watching.

He grumbled to himself as he tried to fit the steel balls of the yoke into the plow, and after much effort, was able to secure the leather straps to the steel plow around the collar, and he dragged the burden to the nearest corner of the fallow field.

He looked back once again. He was closer to Applejack now, and was able to make out an expression on her face; pity.

She didn't think he could do it; she doubted that he could kick it with her and her family, and she felt sorry for him as if she were superior to him.

He remembered a cadence from training; the exact words failed him, but its message was to salute the rank not the stallion. It was meant to teach that nopony was superior, there were only those that had been in longer, or had had more chances to prove prowess. Only here, those lessons seemed not to apply.

His blank, white eye twitched, the red scar pulsating as a blood vessel surfaced against his skin, and his scowl lowered into a definitive glare. He was enraged, both by his futility of trying to work and earn respect at this job, and at the mare's condescending gaze. He didn't need her pity; he could take care of himself.

His aching muscles forgot that they had been working all day, and he looked straight ahead as he snorted like a bull. He pawed at the loose earth, and gave a quick, angry glance back at his boss to make sure she was still watching; she was.

The black stallion looked forward, both his white, damaged eye and his intense, brown one glistening in the sunlight, and the entirety of his musculature flexed and bulged in anticipation.

He breathed in and lounged forward with a grunt, snapping the straps to their full length as the plow resisted his pull. He pushed, refusing to give in, and sweat began to formulate in the crease on his brow.

The plow started to cut, and the earth formed in a wake around the split earth as he dragged the burden forward. He breathed laboriously, pulling with his entire might, and his stocky frame began to gain ground.

He spent what he thought was the rest of his stamina on reaching the far side of the field, completing the first row.

He regained his breath on the far side of the field, turning about to see Applejack still where she had been earlier, leaning on the fence and watching him.

He refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing him quit, and lounged forward a second time, calling on an old reserve of strength, and cut a second row back to the other side of the field.

Flash lumbered past Applejack, the crooked, black frames of his wings folded against his ribs, and refused to look her in the eye before he reached his temporary goal.

"Anythin' ya want to tell me 'bout yerself Flash?"

The charcoal stallion turned his gaze in her direction, expecting a look of pity where he found one of expectancy.

He stepped back to loosen the straps of the plow, allowing him to move freely with the presence of slack, and turned to face her.

It was the first time she had seen him in the light of day, and the mid-day sun illuminated the entirety of his matte body. He made sure to turn his head subtly so as to show off his damaged eye, and puffed out his chest as he turned ever so slightly to expose his crooked wing and numerous dotted scars on his breast.

Then, he confidently said, "No ma'am."

"Call me Applejack," she said a bit irritated, and continued, "Are you sure there's nothin'?"

"Ms. Applejack," Flash started, elevating his gruff voice a bit in his angry frustration, "Unless you're asking about my past, I've got nothing I want to tell you about myself, other than I'm here to work and no matter what, I'll get the job done."

He watched through a tense brow as her expression changed to concern, and he checked his tone.

"Anything else Ms. Applejack?" he rumbled, pulling the straps on the plow taut again, "Or can I get back to work?"

She nodded, and left the fence, leaving him in his solitary, angry, useless wrath to continue plowing the earth.