Four Hooves

To Mason, for being my friend

Chapter I

The spring peepers were in full chorus; it seemed to Rarity that even if Rainbow Dash were to burst through the clouds at this very instant, she would still be drowned out by the croaking of the marshmallow amphibians. Rarity smiled to herself, the thought of Rainbow Dash bursting through the clouds at this hour of the night was so implausible it was laughable. Maybe it was that comical notion, or the 3 shots of tequila still burning in her gut that made her begin to giggle uncontrollably. Squealing and seizing, her giggling sounded like somepony choking on a cupcake, and that made her laugh harder.

God, what a night to be out, the stars were gorgeous, the stores and shops all along the street were darkened, leaving her to her memory to identify all of them.

“That’d be that new Candy Shoppe. You really think that adding another P and E are going to make people want to eat your crap?” She jeered to the darkened building.

“It’s like, the more you try to make people think that you’re some old confectioner, the more you believe it yourself.” She shook her head at the stupidity of the proprietors; some ponies obviously had no idea how to run a business. They just made stupid choices and screwed themselves over in the long run. The white unicorn stopped suddenly and fought back an angry sob. Gritting her teeth and bowing her head to the ground, Rarity grimaced in sorrow.

She rose undaunted, and continued down the street. Ahead stood the library, Twilight must be asleep Rarity thought to herself. Twilight was good, not full of shit like everypony else. Twilight knew stuff, for the few days she had spent at Twilight’s, Rarity had realized that Twilight wasn’t the stuck up bitch that she seemed like.

Yeah, if Twilight needed any help on the books, she had Rarity to call. The inebriated pony passed the tree, a burst of cold wind suddenly gusted down the street and chilled her to the bone. Storm season was coming, and Rainbow Dash would love that, something in that pony loved the chaos of a good storm.

Dash never really came through Ponyville anymore, and she rarely spoke to anypony when she did. She was entirely irrelevant to Rarity. If anything was to be said about Rainbow Dash, it was that she never lived up to being a Wonderbolt. How sad for Dash to lose that. Rarity stopped, a hot tear rolled down her face. It waited for a moment, tickling her chin, before dropping to the ground. What a fucking town, what a fucking town.

Rarity continued along Mane Street, all of these stores, every last one of them had the same shitty pink or blue color of paint. It wasn’t that the owners lacked creativity (which they did), nope, it was because it cost at least 50 bits to repaint a building in Ponyville. Besides bigotry, Ponyville businesses also held the quality of shortsighted pennypinching.

Everypony blamed the recession, the recession wasn’t the problem, the problem was that one had to spend money to make money. But then, that required thinking beyond the level of most business owners of Ponyville. Hilarious, what if every last one of these stores closed, and then more businesses failed in the same building on account of the same brainless business model, how long could the cycle go on?

Reaching the stone wall at the end of the street, Rarity coughed sharply. Tequila was off her list, too sharp and too expensive. She hopped over the fence. All around her, the soft grassy fields stretched for acres. Past them lay the forest, she didn’t look at the forest, instead she devoted her attention to the wide fields. How quiet they were, it startled Rarity, that just six months ago she had bought these fields for expansion of a now defunct business. The moon showed the brown rows of grain, they looked like barbed wire. Had somepony properly tilled and farmed them, they would have been golden and ripe, oh what fucking ever. They were hers and she could do with them as she pleased.

Rarity reached the pile of blankets, still scrunched up from the morning. She plopped down on the soft folds; she was surprised at her own exhaustion. Not caring to brush her teeth, she lay down in the darkness. It dawned on her, she was facing the forest. Without a conscious thought she turned over.

Rarity yawned, a foul taste, reminiscent of lime, hung in her mouth. Tequila was definitely off her list. It was late morning, the sun had been up for a while and the dew had already dried from her mane. She shot a glance at her alarm clock (more clock than alarm these days), 10:04. She needed to get to work soon.

Standing gave her a pounding headache, not the worst she’d had, but still enough to make her dizzy. She spat distastefully and began her trek to the stream. Though it was cool and comfortable now, Rarity knew by the mugginess that it was going to be an unpleasantly warm day. Up ahead, the stream lay just within the shadows of the tree line. Quietly bubbling and gushing, the stream was Rarity’s current make-up kit. Bowing her head for a drink, the unicorn caught a glimpse of herself in the rippling mirror. Long and unkempt, her mane looked more like Dash’s than her own. The rest of her, well, that really didn’t stand out. The cold water smoothed out any mussed up areas and her Cutie Mark was still clearly visible. That was enough preening. She continued to sip the icy water in a vain attempt to remove the taste of the stale alcohol. She looked up for a moment. All around her, the trees were gaining leaves. With the sun shining through the speckled canopy of, it looked as if the whole forest were a kaleidoscope. Six months ago this would have been a morning that found her on a walk through the woods.

Rising out of the water, Rarity shook herself. She felt the wet slap of her mane against her neck, even for her, it was too long. She ought to stop by Dash’s for a trim. She walked from the water; she still had to eat before work. Rooting around in her crates, she found a not-too-dusty apple. She popped the fruit in her mouth and started for the town.

What was today, Thursday? That meant breaking crates down to size, then hauling them off to the farm. The apple crunched, slightly sour. It reminded Rarity of her life: shitty, and just enough to get by.

By the time she reached the bakery, the air had already grown considerably warmer. The sun heated the cobblestone beneath her hooves and her damp mane felt clammy against her neck. Inside, the multiple ovens made the room even hotter than outside, and she was glad she didn’t have to spend the day shoveling dough into the brick chambers.

Applecrisp had already started snapping the crates into pieces when she entered the store room. Applecrisp was a rich shade of blue, she was an earth pony, talked little and worked hard. Her Cutie Mark resembled a tree sticking out of a patch of blue and green wash; Rarity had no idea what it meant, and she honestly didn’t care.

Applecrisp gave her a nod.

“Hey.” Rarity lifted a palate and tore a piece of wood off. This was her work; it kept her fed, occasionally imbibed, and busy. The first few hours passed as they should, neither pony spoke, and the pile of crates shrank considerably. After some time, it was Rarity who spoke first.

“So you see Hennessey’s got an air hockey table?”

“Naw, ah been savin’, so ah sure enough ain’t been round there. Sugarcube Corner is selling some stock, so ah reckoned ah’d go for that.” Applecrisp tossed a broken egg crate onto the pile.

Rarity nodded and reshaped the pile of fragments. A part of her felt some resentment about this. Applecrisp wasn’t really a friend, and it didn’t matter at all, but something about her investment in the store made Rarity a little mad.

“So, did you actually try tequila?” Applecrisp asked.

“Eeyup, absolute crap. Rather drink sewer water.” Rarity replied. Applecrisp nodded.

“Y’know, ah gave that honey ale a try, not too bad.” The conversation turned to bar talk.

Hennessey’s was the only bar in Ponyville, its opening had stirred up quite a storm of controversy. Many said it would turn the colts and fillies of the town into drunks and fighters. Celestia herself, others proclaimed, would denounce the establishment as utterly evil. But since there had been many changes to the town over the past few months and Celestia was gone now; the bar squeaked by on a close vote by the city council. In reality, Hennessy’s didn’t live up to anypony’s expectations; it did not produce delinquents and drunkards. Nor did it garner rave reviews by local newspapers and usher in a new era of alcoholic tolerance. A few ponies came and went, mostly buying fruit punch and eating the peanuts. Rarity herself was one of only a few ponies to actually partake of “liquefied Discord.”

Rarity took her lunch over to the library, Spike would undoubtedly enjoy the company. She approached the thick tree and knocked on the door. The door was so out of place, it was comical. Three inches of sheet steel and Lexan glass separated Rarity from the interior of the tree; Twilight hadn’t had any say in its installation. It was Spike who answered the door.

“Oh hay Rarity! I was just about to eat! Come on in!” Little Spike, he was still that baby dragon she had adored so long ago; though he wasn’t so little now. The potion he taken just after Twilight’s coronation was supposed to grow him by more than a decade. Yet besides his size, there was still very little grown about the dragon. “One more shipment of legers and we’re set through August of last year!” Something about his boyish optimism still made her smile a little bit.

“Twilight here?” She inquired.

“No, she had to run the castle to sign some stuff.” The two reached a table, stained with ink and covered in papers.

“Lemme just clear this off.” He pushed the piles to the floor. “Copies.” He gestured to the papers “Would you believe that all official documents need three separate copies for posterity? Except those pertaining to regular nomenclature of temporal nature.” He sighed and rubbed his scaled head. Rarity shook her head and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Spike, you are one awesome secretary.” He smiled a little at this.

“Well, Twilight thinks so too, and we’re almost up to date on the governmental spending manifests. It’s been a stressful past few weeks, but I think we’re almost in the clear.” He tossed a few stones from a bag on the kitchen counter onto a plate and sat next to her. “How about you, how have things been going?”

Rarity took a bite of her greens.

“Pretty good, bakery’s fine, nights are warm, can’t ask for much more than that. Applecrisp says she’s going to invest in Sugarcube Corner.” Rarity wasn’t quite sure why she added that part about Applecrisp. Maybe it was because she still felt a little miffed about it, and because Spike was one of the few people she still held a real relationship with.

He crunched a rock and cocked his head at her.

“Are you thinking of joining her?” He asked curiously.

“Me? Oh hell no!” She was instantly sorry she had said that. Spike didn’t like swearing, and even though he didn’t show it, Rarity knew he disapproved. “I mean, I don’t think a cupcake store is something I want to get behind.” She politely clarified.

Spike knew what she really meant.

“Is this because Pinkie Pie works there?” He asked in a soft voice. She pushed at her greens.

“It’s not that, I mean, yeah I guess.” She mumbled.

He looked back at his plate. Neither spoke for a time.

“Twilight says she’d like some help with the ledgers. There are a couple of bits of handwriting we can’t make out.” He offered.

“Yeah, what time?”

“Um, probably sometime on Friday, that’s when she gets back.”

“That’d be good.”

The dragon popped the last rock into his mouth and tossed the plate into the sink.

“See Rainbow Dash lately?” He asked.

“No, I’ll be dropping by her place later.” She shook her mane. “This old thing is getting to be a safety hazard.”

He giggled, still a baby dragon.

“Unless it directly impedes movement to a fire escape, then I won’t note it.” She glanced at the oven clock.

“I oughta head back, I have to deliver some wood.”

He walked her to the door.

“There’s a position for maintenance in the clock tower that we need filled.” He suggested. “Pay’s probably better than bread, and, yeah, it’s pretty remedial stuff. If you’re interested, just, you know, give me a call.”

“Yeah, I’ll see.” She strolled out the door and into the warm spring air.

She wouldn’t. It had been four months since her life had gone to hell, yet everyone, Spike included, still had that irritating charitable condescension. She had left them all, gone to work at the bakery in a demeaning position and she did not give a shit what anypony cared. They’d fucked her life, closed her Boutique, and now they expected her to eat out of their hooves. She snorted aloud, they’d never have the satisfaction of supporting her. She still owned half of the farmland outside of Ponyville, and the population would starve before she sold it to anypony.

Really, she wasn’t really out for revenge, that was three months ago, when she had contemplated firebombing Mane street. Now she was just tired, tired of her job, tired of watching stupid ponies go about their lives and tired of Ponyville. She reached the bakery a few minutes early and Mr. Salukas nodded to her as she entered.

“Ah Rarity, can you stay late tonight? I need help with a rush order.”

“Yeah sure.” She had nowhere else to be tonight.

She actually liked Mr. Salukas, he was a tall horse with a thick brown coat that ended in tufts at his hooves. He spoke in a rich accent that Twilight herself couldn’t identify. He was strong, farm horse strong. Many times he alone had hoisted the 50 pound bags of flour and thrown them into the safe and Rarity could not fathom how he had the delicate touch required for baking. It was no surprise to anypony that his Cutie Mark was a pair of tools crossed over each other.

Four months after the Blast, he came to Ponyville and built a bakery. It was a niche bakery to be sure, as it sold many oddities that the colorful ponies had never seen before. Lines of inquisitive earth ponies piled into the store to taste things like Bobka and Monkey bread. The only normal bread they carried was dark rye; none of that flimsy white stuff that goes through you Mr. Salukas explained. Rarity liked him because he gave, and took, absolutely no shit. Mrs. Salukas, an uncomfortably strong mare, was about the only pony in the world that told Mr. Salukas what to do.

She headed back into the storage room. Applecrisp was reclining on the pile of debris. She stood when Rarity entered.

“Y’all want to load this on the cart an’ see what we got for room?”

“Yeah let’s do that, I got a feeling that this is gonna be three loads.”

The pair labored to load the cart with the broken wood. After twenty minutes of splinters and exertion, the cart was full.

“Y’sure ya’ll gonna be able to pull that?” Applecrisp pulled off some pieces.

“I’m fine, just finish before I get back.”

“Sure will.”

Rarity smiled a little, it was cute how guilty the usually brisk Applecrisp felt for always making her pull the cart. It worked out well for both of them actually, Rarity got out of the stuffy bakery for a while and Applecrisp didn’t have to go to Sweet Apple acres.

The bakery had a deal with Sweet Apple acres. Every Thursday, the farm bought the wood pallets and crates the bakery had no need for. It was Mr. Salukas’ idea, all part of his “nothing wasted” mentality. Never in her life had Rarity seen anypony so bent on efficiency and saving. It was all practical to be sure, but still, even in a recession, Ponyville supported the bakery well enough. It was one of Mr. Salukas’ idiosyncrasies, one of many. Yet he paid well, didn’t give a shit what Rarity did with her life, and pretty much went about his business; Rarity would abide by most quirks given those qualifiers.

She pulled the cart through the town, the tickling brush of her mane against her neck was maddening. Rainbow Dash had better be able to fit her in. Through the town, over the stream, the route was all memory. She looked up, a few clouds were blowing in. There’d be a storm tonight, and that meant another night in the box. She sighed, and today was going so well.

She passed the first sign for Sweet Apple acres, “Absolutely NO credit accepted.” It was a good statement to make, the farm had been hit by about four thousand bits worth of bad checks a few months after the Blast and had closed for a period of three weeks. Rarity remembered seeing AJ around at Hennessey’s a lot those three weeks. But something in that pony had refused to give up, and even if it meant that Applebloom wasn’t going to college or Macintosh waited another year to remove that piece of brick from his leg, that farm was not going to die. And return they had, Sweet Apple acres was even the champion of economic recovery now. It sported a new line of hard cider (Granny Smith denounced this addition to the product offering but Rarity didn’t recall her bitching about a new hip either), and the creation of thirty new jobs. Rarity passed the next sign “Sweet Apple acres, watch ‘em picked!”, she felt a drop of rain, Goddamn it. Quickening her pace, she breezed by the next three signs talking about homegrown goodness and reached the gate. She slammed a hoof into the intercom

“It’s Rarity, here with the wood.” She said breathlessly.

“Come again?” Came the crackly response.

“RARITY! HERE WITH THE WOOD!” She struck the intercom, harder than she intended. The metal edge stung and she almost cried out as she watched a trickle of blood run down her hoof.

“Oh hay! Wasn’t expectin’ ya’ll. Ah’ll buzz ya in.” The gate clicked and Rarity limped inside.

Inside, the farm was strangely quiet. There were tracks everywhere, but not a pony to be seen. Rarity held her cut hoof off of the ground and waited for AJ. Presently, the door of the farmhouse opened and Applejack strolled down the steps.

“An’ whut brings ya’ll out here?” Applejack called to her.

“Heard you were needing some firewood.” Rarity answered. Applejack slapped her on the back.

“Aw nao, isn’t that the sweetest thing of ya’ll to do? Ah’ll help y’drop it off.”

Applejack led her around to the main barn.

“So, did your workers up and leave?” Rarity asked jokingly as the reached the giant structure.

“Ha, no, fer some reason, this is when they lahk t’eat lunch. Weirdest thing, but it don’t hurt production none.” Applejack replied.

Rarity shrugged. These new ponies were pretty odd. They were short and grey and their manes black and shaggy. Rarity often saw then in town buying food, they didn’t talk and thus Rarity gave little mind as to when they ate lunch.

AJ flipped open a keypad on the giant door and punched in a few digits.

“Normal key locks get picked real easily. Can ya’ll believe that?” Applejack asked incredulously.

“You got forty thousand bits of food products in that barn, so I’m not surprised that someone would pick a lock to get in.” Rarity replied cynically. With Rarity’s help, Applejack swung the wide doors open.

“This never woulda been a problem if Celestia were here.” Applejack grumbled.

“That’s true about a lot of things.” Rarity agreed softly.

Warm, stuffy and sweet smelling, the inside of the barn held row upon row of apple crates, all neatly stacked.

“Set ‘em over here.” Applejack motioned to a boxy machine about their height that looked Seusical in origin.

“What the hell is that?” Rarity couldn’t help but laugh at the bizarre contraption before her.

“Somethin’ called a still. Them new ponies showed me how t’make one. Gave ‘em two weeks paid vacation for it. That thing pumps out hard cider at ‘round 10 gallons a day. Three times faster whut it took me an’ Applebloom t’do it by hoof.” AJ replied proudly. Rarity snorted. These new ponies were bizarre to say the least.

“Ah dropped three quarters of mah scone line to free up ‘nuff apples to keep this thing running.” AJ said, tossing some boards to the straw strewn ground. “Mosta’ the sales come from Canterlot, but Hennesy’s does supply from us.”

Lowering an armful of wood to the ground, Rarity felt a spike of pain shoot through her hoof. She swore loudly and Applejack whirled around.

“Ya’ll ok?” Asked the farmer in concern.

“Just cut my hoof. Do you have a band-aid?” Rarity tried to hide the cut.

“Oh sugar, ah got more’n a band-aid. Come on inside and ah’ll clean that up.” AJ said in her mothering tone. That was exactly what Rarity didn’t want. Reluctantly, she followed Applejack out of the barn and into the big house.

It took Rarity a moment to adjust to the darkness of the house. The rooms were the same as they had always been, decorated modestly, furnished properly. Applejack sat her down at one of the chairs surrounding the worn dinner table. She searched the applewood cabinets for her first aid kit.

Rarity hated AJ’s house almost as much as she hated Sugarcube Corner. Applejack was the richest pony in Ponyville and her house was still the same rickety pile of wood it had always been. In fact, the house had actually gotten less inviting after the farm’s success. The windows were shuttered and the lights were all soft yellows, which gave the house the impression of being either a mortuary or a birthing room. Rarity knew AJ hated it, but if it helped Granny Smith, then it had to be done.

“Got it!” The farm pony brought a blue plastic box over to the table. “Nao gimme that hoof.” Rarity sighed and held out her hoof. She felt the sharp sting of the rubbing alcohol, but said nothing. “This is pretty long, how’d ya’ll manage this?” AJ asked curiously.

“Stepped on a rock.” Rarity replied mindlessly as she gazed at the pockmarked surface of the table.

Applejack started on how the road in was full of rocks. She seemed to take forever with the gauze, rewrapping it twice, and Rarity was already at the door by the time the orange mare had put the kit away.

It had begun to sprinkle rain outside and Rarity sighed, considering her two more trips. By the time the pair had finished putting away the load of wood, it was starting to rain consistently.

“Ah can’t let ya’ll pull two more trips. Ah’ll come along and take a cart mahself.” Applejack saddled up a cart of her own. Rarity didn’t bother to begin to protest, there were battles she wouldn’t even enter.

The two clopped along at a steady pace, despite Rarity’s injured hoof.

“When is Big Mac’s surgery?” Rarity asked as they walked over the bridge leading into the town.

“Ain’t found the right doctor. We’re getting the best, ah want him to favor that leg after the surgery.” Applejack said firmly. Rarity chuckled and the two continued in silence. As they approached Ponyville, they passed a few of AJ’s workers, evidently on their way back from lunch. Applejack nodded to one.

“Taco, can y’get the north field done by tomorrow? Take some from the other groups if ya need to, we got forty more cases of cider needs pressin’.” The shaggy pony gave literally no indication that he heard her as he passed by them. Yet AJ kept walking.

“They ain’t much fer talkin’, but they sure get the job done. It’s like them piano savants, weird as hell, yet they’re the best at whut they do.” AJ observed.

“Had any trouble with ‘em?” Rarity was curious if Applejack actually liked these new ponies. Sweet Apple Acres had never employed anypony outside of the Apples and now they housed around thirty or so of these odd ponies. Applejack shrugged.

“Yeah, in the beginnin’ had some things disappear from the barn. Figured it wasn’t spooks, but at that point we were about done as a company. Took me about a month of firing and rump-kicking to git em to work with me. Nao the only problems are that they clock out early evry once an’ awhile.” She finished with a triumphant grin.

Applejack was proud of herself, and she had every right to be. She had saved her farm, sent Applebloom to the best architectural school in all of Cantorlot, kept Granny smith alive via all of the dark blasphemies of medical science and was now searching for the best doctor to operate on her brother. Rarity liked AJ’s fighting spirit.

“Ya’ll wanna stay at mah place t’nigh? It’ll be dark as pitch when we’re through.” Rarity did not like her southern hospitality however.

“Nah, I gotta get my mane cut at Dash’s.” Rarity dodged.

“She’ll be closed when y’get there.”

“We’ll be done sooner than that.”

“Nao ah can’t let-”

“You aren’t making this easy for me.” Rarity interrupted coarsely.

“Oh, ah see.” Applejack said softly.

Rarity sighed, there wasn’t any way to win with a charitable pony. Thankfully the remainder of the now silent trip lasted only a few minutes. There was no sign of Applecrisp, she must have seen the pair coming and retreated inside.

“S’how’s Applecrisp working out?” AJ asked casually as she stacked more of the wood.

“Pretty good.” Rarity replied as neutrally as she could. Applejack laughed an unbecomingly cold laugh.

“That a fact.” Rarity didn’t reply, she hoped that was all that AJ was going to say. Mercifully, Applejack didn’t care to speak about her cousin and the two soon loaded the carts. The return trip took place in the midst of a standard rain storm, substantial rain and lightning interspersed. AJ looked about ready to launch into another attempt at forcing Rarity to stay the night as she and Rarity journeyed up the road to the farm. Rarity decided to head her off.

“So AJ, what say you and me hit Hennessey’s on Monday night? You can buy the first round.” She proposed.

“Ha, nao y’know, ah do need to drop by an’ see if mah booze is being sold at MSRP.” Applejack grinned playfully. “And ah know that a certain pony will be there, pro’bly assuming that she can outshoot me at pool.” Rarity chuckled.

“Don’t suppose your ego needs a little checking?”

“Hell no it don’t, it’ll be a shock if you pocket anything other than some stallion’s keys.” At this Rarity snorted disgustedly.

“I’m a bitch, not a whore.”

AJ tossed back her head with a rough laugh.

“Can’t imagine why the Cantorlot conservatory didn’t accept ya’ll as a resource.”

“I was too controversial for their tastes, I have this undying belief in the natural and necessary progression of musical compositions.” Rarity replied sarcastically. AJ cackled to this.

They were friends. Rarity had marveled at their bond, the once polar opposites were now the only two of the five remaining friends to stay close after the Blast. Rarity imagined their closeness stemmed from their common experiences of being fucked over by circumstance. AJ made up for whatever frustration her insuppressible generosity caused by not condescending Rarity like everypony else. The handouts were a pain, the whispers and looks were unbearable, and Rarity had enough reasons to hate Ponyville without their patronizing pity. Beyond Granny Smith and Applecrisp, Rarity admired everything about Applejack. And those areas were pretty insignificant in the long run.

They reached the gate and the farm pony nosed in a few digits onto a keypad above the intercom. The wind was blowing a bit now and they trotted quickly to the barn. The apple-filled structure was refreshingly warm and the sharp smell of alcohol permeated the air.

“Whut in the hell?” Applejack muttered in confusion.

The “still” was steaming and gurgling, Big Macintosh leaned on a stack of crates beside it.

“Big Macintosh! Whut in tarnation do ya’ll think ya’ll’re doin’? Git offa there nao!” AJ hollered. Big Macintosh looked up with his usual tired expression and said flatly.

“Gotta forty more gallons a’ cider need t’be made by tomorrow. Ya’ll ferget the order from Cantorlot that came in few days ago?”

“Shit.” Applejack said almost in a whisper. She quickly snapped back to her position of control. “Ya’ll still get offa there! Doctor said no lifting over twenty pounds and we shure as hell don’t carry apple sacks weighing less than 30!”

“Now Apple-” Was as far as Macintosh got before AJ interrupted him.

“Don’t ya’ll protest me mister. If y’wanna help, then go call Applebloom and see if she can get her hahnd end down here by Saturday so she can do that consulting that was supp’sed to be done last Saturday!”

Macintosh sighed and hoisted himself onto his crutches.

“Y’can’t do all this yourself Applejack. Get Miguel to help y’with it.” He said tiredly.

“Shure will, shure will, nao ah’m walking you insahd.” AJ fell in line with his slow pace.

“Applejack! Ah can get inside!” Macintosh’s usual monotone grew louder. “Alraght.” AJ spoke softly, evidently embarrassed. “Jus’ make sure an’ close the screen doar.”

“Shure will.” Came Macintosh’s flat reply. Applejack sighed and turned to Rarity.

“Sorry ‘bout that. He gits these notions.” She shook her head. “Can’t keep him from settin’ out to injure himself moar.”

“Yeah, he looks like he really wants to get back out working.” Rarity said wistfully, starting to unload her cart.

“Ah said from the start, y’go horsing around cause it don’t hurt and it’ll add up to more months of physical ther’py tha’s what ah said.” AJ glanced at the running still. “Heavin’ above if we don’t need another big order…” She sighed. “Jus’ set the crates right here.” She motioned to a general area near the still, while starting to stoke the flames of the machine. “Ah’ll send Taco or somepony back with the carts tomorrow. Sorry ah can’t chat, ah gotta make four days’ worth of cider in a day and a half.” Rarity finished unloading both carts and then walked out into the rain.

The storm was just starting now. The wind shot through the trees and the rain was pounding the ground at a 45° angle. The spring sky had turned grey and white bursts of lightning lit the sky.

“Fuck it all.” Rarity said aloud as she dashed out into the chaos. It was off to Rainbow Dash’s house now.

Any other day, Rarity would have simply gone home and waited till later for a mane cut. But there was something maddening about a long, unruly mane that spurred her to gallop through the downpour. Her hoof started to hurt again, she looked down and saw that the bandages had already washed off in the sloppy mud. She pressed on, there was nothing she could do.

Why did Dash have to live so far from everything? Rarity herself lived on the outskirts of the town, but Dash had settled so far away from the town that she was almost a denizen of the Great Plains separating Ponyville from Las Pegasus. In fact, Dash’s home was so far from the town that there was no actual road that led to there. It was a pain in the ass to travel to and from her house and seldom did the Pegasus venture into the town.

Rarity had often pondered what sort of toll the Blast had taken on the young Pegasus. Rainbow Dash had been the closest surviving pony to the actual explosion, even taking a razor sharp fragment of metal to the flank. Yet nopony disputed the awesome protection that Dash had apparently been under in that instant, as she had not been killed outright or even maimed horribly by the violent explosion that occurred literally right beside her.

And yet it was perfectly clear that she had been blown to pieces, anypony who knew Rainbow Dash before and after the Blast could tell that. Now she was soft spoken, didn’t bother anypony, cut manes and actually apologized for things. There were whispers of a latent psychological break in the former daredevil, perhaps her mind had fused into a sort of postmortem projection of Fluttershy. That didn’t seem likely to Rarity, as Dash didn’t seem particularly batshit crazy. Still, more than a few times had the white unicorn worried about being hacked to pieces and baked into a cupcake while having her mane cut by RD. At any rate, Dash was a surprisingly good barber who charged fairly and typically said little; she was the best in the business as far as Rarity was concerned.

The rain slacked off a bit and Rarity could make out a large boulder over her left shoulder. That was good, she was on course. It was stupid the point of being funny that anypony wishing to get their mane cut by Dash had to rely on landmarks to find their way. Most days it wasn’t a problem, but should it get rainy, well, she was just fucked wasn’t she? The rain quickly returned to its former strength and Rarity sprinted ahead. The rain blurred the landscape and she struggled to make out anything beyond the dancing grass. A broken down wheelbarrow should be ahead if she remembered right. Her hoof caught on something wedged into the ground and she slammed face first into the mud. For a moment she spat and gasped as she wiped the mud from her face, her momentary stun turned to anger when she saw what had tripped her. A mossy wooden wheelbarrow handle protruded from the soaked grass.

“Fuck this shit, fuck it all.” Rarity was too exhausted to become enraged. She tiredly picked herself up and continued to run to where she assumed Dash’s house would be. Five minutes of running and she was starting to worry. What if she missed the house entirely? Almost as an answer, the soft glow of a lantern came into focus as she crested a hill. The small single story house looked like heaven in the downpour. Rarity was wary of sprinting towards it, as there might be more malignant garden implements imbedded in the ground ahead. Despite her nominal pace, she reached the door soon and clopped furiously against the thick wooden surface. A minute went by without reply. If Dash didn’t answer quickly, Rarity was going to hurl a rock through the front window. Another minute went by, and Rarity began to search for a rock. The door creaked open.

“Hello?” Came a timorous voice.