The front door continuously swung open as the minutes ticked on by. The Apple family began to arrive, bringing with them good cheer, presents, and of course, a batch of food to set on the table. Greetings were given, surprise shouted, and kisses and hugs abounded.

None of these Ink noticed. How could she, when she had an angry farmgirl staring her down, while holding onto a mug that had “SIP” printed across its front? Must have been Big Mac’s with the level of diction written there, but Ink knew better than to bring him up in front of his sister.

Applejack’s face wasn’t red. It didn’t even appear like she was under any emotional duress. She maintained a careful mask, devoid of any telltale signs of discomfort or discontent with Ink’s presence. But her arms were crossed, one hand still holding the SIP mug, and her frown, Ink saw, was twitching at the sides. So the girl knew how to hide her emotions; Ink wondered who had been teaching her.

Neither of them actually drank out of their cups, and Ink knew her cocoa was beginning to cool. A distant voice, sounding like a mix between Granny Smith and her mom, came to her, chiding her for wasting some perfectly good hot chocolate. She pushed the voice away and listened to the rest of the house, silently hoping for someone to pop in and relieve her.

No one did. It was loud and the door did keep swinging and yet no one came into the kitchen.

Ink stared at Applejack.

Applejack glared at Ink.

Neither took a sip.

Neither were ignorant of the tension.

Both tried to. Both failed.

And Ink, for all her efforts, could not keep an even gaze; and so she turned away, finding the ground suddenly very interesting. She heard Applejack grunt. A part of her wanted to run, and yet her legs had seemingly frozen over. She could not move. She would not. Why wouldn’t she? Her heart was racing. She knew this girl before her could knock her out at best, and hurt her even more at worse. She had seen her angry and inflamed. It was far smarter to run, wasn’t it?

So why would her legs fail now?

Unless…

Unless now was not the time to run. Now was the time for something else. Confrontation, perhaps. Or bravery. Or was that just some stupid part of her wrestling for control? What was the line between courage and idiocy, anyway? Maybe there was no difference…

Her thoughts were slipping. Focus, Ink. Don’t look like a fool!

“So.”

Applejack’s voice was so sudden, it made Ink start. Her head came up in a sharp nod, and she found the farmer girl glaring emerald daggers into her. Ink’s words caught in her throat.

“What’re ya doing here, Ink?”

“Um… getting some hot chocolate? Granny Smith said I could…”

Applejack snorted. “That ain’t what I meant.”

“Oh.” A dumb thing to say, but Ink couldn’t think of anything else.

“So. Y’mind explaining to me what you’re doing in mah home?”

Ink took a deep breath. She isn’t going to like this. Slowly, so as to not sound frightened or intimidated, she relayed the circumstances leading to her being here. Mac’s invitation, her thinking it over, then acceptance of it. She said her mom was in the other room, talking with Granny. She’d already met Apple Bloom who… well, she left out a few parts, deciding only to say that she seemed like a very sweet and mature girl. Ink figured a bit of flattery for the family would save her skin just a bit.

It might have, or it might not have. Either way, Applejack let out a short chuckle. “Yeah. She’s probably the most mature outta all of her friends.” She almost sounded proud, saying that, and Ink nearly let out a sigh of relief.

Then Applejack’s voice became sharp once more. “But I’m still not sure I much like th’ idea of you hanging ‘round here.”

Ink gulped. “Why’s that?”

But before the farmer girl could answer, someone entered from the kitchen entrance. “Cousin Applejack! So good to see you! Oh? And who’s this lovely little lady keepin’ you company?”

The young man who now stood in the doorway—well, more like leaned against in an attempt to appear suave—was the color of tan wheat fields erupting over the plains down south. Light green eyes, far friendlier than the ones who had been glaring at her, glanced up and down Ink. His hair was slick, and orange like a pumpkin, and his smile was pure white and welcoming, a far cry from the gritty frown now adorning Applejack’s face. The oddest thing about him was his outfit: he was dressed exactly like a cowboy, complete with a flat broad-brimmed hat, wide pants, and silver-starred spurs. It was not clothing fit for winter, and yet he didn’t seem at all bothered by this.

“Friend o’ yours?” the young man asked. He came off of the doorway, hand on his hips, and sauntered over to Ink, flashing that very white grin. He let out a low whistle. “Ain’t you prettier than a golden apple harvest.”

Ink blinked. Was… was she being hit on? At a Christmas party? In front of Applejack? By, presumably, a relative of hers? This was happening?

“Um…”

The young man laughed. “Aw, what’s the matter, girl? Cat catch yer tongue?” He flicked his head, tossing his hair back. “Can’t say I blame you, sweet cheeks. It ain’t everyday southern pride shows up right in front of you.”

Okay. This was happening. This really was happening. Ink peeked around the young man at Applejack. For once, her angry expression had faded; now it was one of bemusement.

“Braeburn,” she lowly intoned.

The young man— Braeburn—was still smiling. “Oh! Where are my manners! Name’s Braeburn, as my cousin Applejack has just so nicely explained. And it would my absolute pleasure t’ make your acquaintance, little missy!”

He held a hand and, after a moment, Ink took it. Braeburn, however, wasn’t content with a handshake; instead, before she could pull away, he leaned down and pecked the top. Ink’s face burned. Applejack’s did as well. Only Braeburn remained impossibly cheerful, and started laughing.

“Braeburn!” Applejack gasped. “What the hay do you think you’re doing?”

He let go of Ink’s hand, turning to face the other girl. “Aw, come on, Applejack! I was just having some fun!”

Ink covered her face with her hands. She was aghast. First Apple Bloom and Granny Smith had teased her relentlessly, then Applejack had confronted her, and now this. Why was tonight being so weird?

“Besides, we’re all just having a good time. Ain’t that right, sweet cheeks?”

He laughed again. Then, all of a sudden, the laughter died away.

Standing in the kitchen doorway like some crimson avenger stood Macintosh Apple. His brow was furrowed and his gaze was set squarely on the other man who stood there before him. Gone was his cheerful smile, his warm demeanor. All of that was replaced with a frown, made seemingly of stone, yet still coiling with barely restrained anger and annoyance.

“Braeburn,” he said, and his tone made it clear he was not up for a light conversation.

Braeburn smiled, but the smile took on a similar feel as the one Ink had made when Applejack had first called for her. “H-hey, there, Big Mac. How’s it hanging?”

“Fine,” the young man rumbled. He crossed his arms. “Y’mind telling me what yer doing with my friend there?”

“Who? Oh, her.” Braeburn spread his arms. “I was just, ah, getting to know her. Never seen her before at these kinds of gatherings, y’know.”

“I do. I invited her.”

Braeburn blanched. “Y-you invited her?”

“That’s right.”

“W-well, she’s a, ah, very pleasant lady, that one, there, and I’ll have you know that—”

“You don’t even know her name, d’ya?”

Braeburn’s whitened face burned. “W-well, I mean, that is to say…” He lowered his head. “I was gonna ask eventually…”

“Sure you were.” Mac unfolded his arms. “Come on. Leave Ink alone and come help me bring in Golden Harvest’s presents.”

His voice made clear there was no room for argument. Like a scolded child, Braeburn stomped off. But at the doorway, he paused, turned, and flashed Ink a smile.

Mac proceeded to cuff him by the ear and pull him away. Relief washed over Ink. She lowered her hands from her face and whispered a soft, “Thank you!” in his direction, but if he heard her, he made no inclination that he had.

Then, just as quickly relief came, so too did it leave, for now she realized she was back in the kitchen with Applejack. And her only way out had just walked away.

In regarding Applejack now, though, it was hard to say if things remained the same. The anger was still there, the flashing, roiling strength of it, and yet somehow it seemed diminished. Bemusement over Braeburn carried over still, and it was hard to say who now earned her ire more—the cousin or the girl. Ink thought to say something, but somehow, her voice remained buried beneath the emotional waves, and so she waited there, waited for Applejack to speak her mind.

Gradually, that stormy expression receded. Silence hung over them—at least as well as it could in a house so alive and vibrant. Then, suddenly, Applejack let out a snort.

“Sorry about Braeburn. Ever since Strongheart broke up with him down in Appleloosa, he’s been trying to get with every girl since jus’ to show her up. Course, that ain’t ever work.”

“I thought he was a bit nice,” Ink said, unsure of why those words came out.

“Normally, he is,” Applejack replied. Her arms uncrossed, and she placed her hands on her hips, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. “Guess when he saw you he jus’... had to say something.”

“Yeah…”

To be fair, it was kind of nice to get someone’s attention. But only kind of.

Applejack worked her jaw, as if trying to search for some more words. “Y’know, Mac’s never done that before.”

“What?”

“Ya heard me. He’s never gone and cuffed Braeburn before for talking to someone. Usually the two get along like pigs in a blanket, but that’s the first I’ve seen him actually annoyed with ‘im.” She fixed Ink with a curious gaze, though it was still a bit resentful. “Guess he must really like you.”

Ink blushed. “O-oh. I mean…”

“Yeah, he didn’t even act that way back when Sugar Belle…” And then the stormy expression returned, angrily and almost violently. Applejack’s hand tightened white against the handle of the cup, like she meant to shatter it.

Ink glanced down at her cup. The hot chocolate had gone cold. Then she looked up and at Applejack. Her voice came out lower than she’d expected. “Sugar Belle?”

Applejack stiffened at the name. Against her better judgement, Ink asked again, “Sugar Belle? Who’s that?”

“Nobody,” Applejack insisted gruffly. She suddenly noticed how tightly she was holding the cup, and turned and put it on the kitchen counter. “Ain’t nobody, that’s who.”

“Doesn’t sound like nobody.”

If looks could kill, Ink would be ten feet under. Applejack’s glare was vitriolic. “She’s nobody.”

She seemed intent on dropping the topic then and there, and under the girl’s glare, Ink could not find it in herself to continue it. So she, too, dropped it. Yet they both remained in the kitchen together, unable to move, or perhaps unwilling to.

A question worked itself into Ink’s mind, but she hadn’t time to process it before she blurted, “Why do you hate me?”

Applejack started. “I-what?”

Ink swallowed, mentally berating herself for bursting out like that. But there was no point in stopping. “Why do you hate me?”

The other girl’s brows came up, then furrowed. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Now Ink was beginning to sound bitter. “All you’ve done is shoot me death stares, even before I got here. So why? I haven’t done anything!”

Applejack appeared shocked. “Ink, I don’t hate you,” she insisted again.

“Well, then you obviously dislike me very much!” Ink exploded, her hands balling into fists. “You know, Artifex always tells me you’re a very calm and composed person, but so far all you’ve been is angry and ill-composed! I don’t get what you’re mad at me for, but the least you could do is explain what you’re deal is!”

“Ink—”

But Ink wasn’t having it. Her voice began rising. “I barely even know you and yet you’ve decided all of a sudden that I’m the scum of the earth! That’s not fair; what gives?” She paused, the gears in her head working overtime. “Is this because of what Hazel shouted? Don’t tell me you believed her!”

“That ain’t what it is—”

“Then what the hell is it? What did I do to deserve your disgust?! WHAT?!”

“IT’S BECAUSE OF MAC!” Applejack roared.

At once, Ink’s gears grinded to a sudden halt. About, the sounds of the home echoed like they were in a lengthy tunnel, far enough away that she could almost hear the thundering of her heartbeat. Yet despite everything, none had seemed to hear them.

Applejack was breathing heavily, a feature Ink immediately noticed. Her anger and frustration dissipated, replaced with only confusion and sorrow. “Mac? What’s… what’s he got to do with this?”

“Everything,” Applejack said. Her voice was grave and stubborn. Angry still. Yet also subdued.

“What do you mean?”

Applejack didn’t answer at first. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, straightening up before exhaling. She opened her eyes and looked at Ink, as if searching her very soul.

Then, in hesitant tones that quickly became inflamed, she spoke.

“Sugar Belle… was Mac’s first girlfriend.”

“First?”

“First an’ only.”

For some reason, that surprised Ink. Surely someone as nice as Mac could have had more?

As if reading her mind, Applejack offered a little chuckle. “He’s a shy one. Prone to only one or two words for the most part. An’ when it comes to the ladies, he says even less. Not sure why, since he lives in a house full of ‘em.”

Her eyes sparkled for a moment. “Which was why, when he showed up one day two years ago, sayin’ how he’d gotten a first date, we were all surprised.”

Then she sighed. “Mac was lovestruck. All starry-eyed and everythin’. Said the girl was the prettiest you’d ever seen. We’d all love to meet her. That sort of stuff. He begged Granny to help him out, though, cuz he’d never been on the date and he didn’t want to mess up badly.” The fierceness returned. “The same thing happened with you, though it was Granny who wanted to help.”

Ink said nothing, letting the girl continue. “Sugar Belle, when we met her, seemed exactly like Mac had described. Very pretty, very well-spoken and polite. Sweet, too. The two of ‘em couldn’t stop giggling and blushin’. I thought…” Her voice became wistful. “I thought, This is it. This is the one for him. And I think we all thought that, too, though we never said it.”

Applejack continued, “One date became two, then two became three, then four, and so on. Y’know, I’d never seen him so happy when he was with her. Not even when the apple trees were in full bloom and he’d gone and picked them all with us. Sugar Belle just made him shine, she did.”

But then her voice dropped. “But then, I guess it wasn’t the same on her end.”

Wasn’t the same?

The farmer girl shook her head. “Mac came home one day. Jus’ like that, I knew he was different. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t even straight and tall, was all hunched over. His eyes were red. I’d never even seen him cry before.”

She looked up, looked at Ink. “He wouldn’t come out of the house for days. At night I’d hear him crying softly, and asking her and the sky and the walls and everything why this happened. No answer. No answer ever.”

“... why? What did she do?”

“...She’d hurt him. Hurt him badly, Ink. Real badly. Never saw her again. Never wanted to.”

Ink knew there was more to it than that; she just knew. But she also knew that pressing it would yield nothing.

Yet she did not know why Applejack was telling her all this.

Once again, the farmer girl proved nigh-telepathic. “He’s taken a liking to you,” she said. “Somehow, you’ve caught his attention.”

Ink fought to work down her blush. “You think so?” she said.

Applejack nodded. “I know so. And lemme say something else: I think you’ve taken a liking to ‘im, too.” Ink’s blush returned in full-force, but Applejack made no comment. “An’ I’m not so sure what I think of that.”

Silence. Then: “I don’t hate you.”

“Oh.”

“I really don’t, Ink. Really. I’m… I’m sorry that you thought that I did.”

“It’s fine.”

“It ain’t fine. I got no right to treat you like that, especially since I don’t really know you all that well. But…”

The harshness returned. But Ink did not falter under it. “But I’ve seen where this goes once before. I don’t know what y’are to Mac, but I’ve seen where it might go. And I ain’t about to let it happen again, ya hear?”

Ink nodded.

“Good.”

Applejack turned and began walking away, heading back through the doorway. “I ain’t gonna kick you outta the home or anythin’,” she continued. “Mac invited you, and I’m not gonna question that. Enjoy yourself. You and yer mom.”

“I will.”

Pause. Applejack glanced over her shoulder. “One last thing, Ink.”

“What is it?”

Her glare could cut diamonds with how sharp it was. “Don’t you dare hurt Mac. Or I’ll come for you.”

Ink stared at her in silence for a long moment, unable to think of anything to say in response. She thought, though, of Mac, and then how the two had come together in the first place. She thought of the dinner, then of the mall, and then even the time she’d bumped into him on that cold, frosty, December morning.

“Only if you let me punch myself first.”

She didn’t register what she’d just said. But when she did, she found she believed it.

Applejack regarded her carefully. Then, slowly, her lips cracked into an approving smile. “Deal.”

Then she was gone, leaving Ink in the kitchen alone, thinking of the boy who had, in his own way, forced the two of them to bury their hatchet.