Blood-curdling doesn’t begin to describe the squeals of terror; even one of the ten discordant voices would be enough to raise hairs on end, but the combination strains eardrums and stirs the pigs to a further panic. Despite their small size the pigs can still book it, faster than the ponies present except Applejack. She’d still give them a run for their bits even being pregnant, but she’s in shock from the startlingly loud noise.

“No, stop!” Fluttershy shouts, but to no avail. Either the pigs didn’t hear her plaintive cry or, more likely, they didn’t care. It takes but a moment for them to disappear into the orchards, their trotters leaving trails of upturned dirt in their wake. She sighs to herself, then calls, “And you shouldn’t say those things!”

“What things?” Doug asks.

“Oh, um,” Fluttershy says, rubbing her hooves together as she hovers. “Y-you don’t want to know.”

“Nah,” Doug says with a shake of his head, “that just makes me more curious.”

Fluttershy bows her head lower. “I-it’s not nice. ‘I’m not tasty, but he is.’ ‘Eat her first.’ That sort of thing.”

Doug stares at Fluttershy for a few seconds. “Pigs are weird,” he finally says.

“Ah can’t help but wonder,” Applejack dryly remarks to Doug as she closes the gate, the chilling creak only slightly less shiver-inducing than the pigs, “if ya lucked into the rustiest, most obnoxious hinges in Equestria, or if ya had to spend a bit of time searchin’.”

“No time at all. I just reused the ones from the sorting barn,” Doug retorts as he walks next to the entrance. “You know, the ones you kept complaining about, then gave me instead of spending half a bit on new ones.”

Applejack opens her mouth to say something back, then glares at her stallion vehemently while chewing on her tongue. “Reusin’s important,” she states axiomatically, her snout lifting into the air loftily. “Waste not, want not.”

Doug rolls his eyes as he rubs at her mane from the other side of the fence. Then, rather than open the gate again, he carefully hops over the waist high railings. Applejack growls at the display; she could easily clear the fence like that! But it’s the principle of the thing, Tartarus take it!

“Ah don’t know what you youngin’s are complainin’ about,” Granny Smith, the only pony unaffected by the squealing. She attempts to clean out her ear with a hoof. It fails utterly to dislodge anything. “They sound fine to me.”

“Of course they do,” Applejack mutters. She clears her throat and looks at Doug. “So. We’ve got ten valuable critters on the loose, an’ Ah sure don’t want to see any penalty comin’ outta your flanks.”

“My flanks?!” Doug protests. He glances back to look at his butt, then Applejack’s.

“You better not be thinkin’ that Ah got bigger flanks, so Ah should be payin’.” Applejack prods at Doug, and he winces not so much at the sting of her hoof but the truth of her comment. “We’ll just have’ta catch ‘em all.”

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” Doug echoes, or corrects.

Applejack merely raises an eyebrow. “Y’ever chased a hog before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Doug says gamely.

“Hrmf.” Applejack glances at Fluttershy and Granny Smith. The pegasus is slowly hovering higher, trying to keep track of where all the pigs went. The earth pony is watching her carefully, almost judging how well she’s handling this crisis. “‘Shy, get your birds on the search. Ah don’t think we’ll need Dash or Rares, but if they keep runnin’ we might need help.”

“Got it,” Fluttershy says, sticking a hoof in her muzzle. A sharp whistle pierces the trees, briefly interrupting Applejack.

The farmmare glances at Doug and continues, “Especially if they went south. Celestia willin’ they stopped at the fields for a bite to eat, but if they keep goin’ thataway they’ll reach the Everfree and they’ll be good as gone. Granny, you go with ‘Shy and start lookin’ north. Hopefully she can talk ‘em into comin’ back without a hunt.”

Doug looks down at his body, just boots and heavy gloves. It’s starting to get chilly out, and he curses himself for not getting Rarity to make him something that might give him better protection. “I’d like to get something to wear from the smithy,” he says, thinking of the heavy apron. “Better than nothing if we have to wrestle these pigs back.”

“Grab one or two of the big bags while you’re at it,” Applejack says with a slight frown and nod. “Be quick, too.” She pulls her rope out of her hat, warming up while a smirk spread across her muzzle. “Time to show these hogs what a blue ribbon ro-deo champion looks like.”

“Just don’t hurt them,” Fluttershy cautions. “They’re just scared, is all.”

“And hungry,” Doug adds as he jogs away. “I’ll grab a bucket or two of slop while we’re at it.”

“Slop?” Applejack spits out. “Slop?!” She charges after Doug, four hooves used to sprinting easily eating up the distance.

“Whoa!” Doug yells as he spins around, shifting to the side just slightly and dropping almost to his knees. Her head goes between his chest and arm, bull rushing him back a few steps. But he stays upright, his boots leaving furrows in the ground. “Hey! Whoa, girl! Save this energy for chasing down the pigs!”

“You called our apples slop!” Applejack grunts out as she tries to shake him off, her hat flipping off her head. But his long limbs let him hang on far longer than her greater mass would suggest. Plus, she doesn’t really want to hurt him.

“No, slop is what you call whatever you feed the pigs,” Doug says through gritted teeth, struggling to stay on as Applejack spins around. “And it’s not like you’ll be giving them your best!”

“He’s right,” Fluttershy says from above, a hoof at her muzzle as she flits back and forth, unsure if she should intervene. She’s heard earth ponies like to work out their problems like this, but that’s with mares. Though Doug sometimes acts a lot more like a mare than a stallion. “They do call it slop.”

Applejack growls, though her struggles slow. “So ya didn’t mean nothin’ by it?”

“Nope,” Doug says, scratching at Applejack’s mane. He bends down to grab her hat, dusting it off before dropping it on her head. “You good?”

“Ah’m good,” Applejack replies testily. She pulls her hat off, replaces her rope inside it, then puts it back on.

By this point a number of birds have congregated around Fluttershy. She sends each off in a different direction. By the time Doug gets back with a large sack and a bit of protection for his front Applejack is raring to go, two buckets of mashed apples slung across her back. The two take off, following the first trail to the south.

A warbling bird leads them straight to the first shoat. She’s rooting around one of the many clusters of apple trees, gobbling up some of the apples that occasionally fall on their own, judging by their mushy appearance. A headbutt brings a few more apples down, and Applejack grimaces at the waste.

“Alright, you,” Applejack calls loudly. “We can do this the easy way, or the Apple way.”

The young pig looks up at Applejack, then back at the half eaten apple, and happily munches away.

“Huh,” Applejack remarks to Doug as the two walk up. “That was easy.” She glances between the sack and the pig. “You wanna walk or ride in the sack?” She motions to Doug, and he opens the sack for the pig to jump in.

She looks again at the apples, grabs another in her mouth and trots into the sack.

“I should have brought a cart,” Doug moans, hefting the fifty pounds to his back, “if I’m just a glorified taxi service.”

“Hush, you,” Applejack says. “One down, and let’s say three more to go.” They cut through the fields south of the farmhouse, both carefully scanning for any of the gray and pink pigs. They spot one on the southern edge, advancing just like before. “We got food!” Applejack calls, hefting one of the buckets while she briefly stands on two legs.

The second pig takes one look at the wriggling sack on Doug’s back and takes off for the forest to the south.

“Cut him off!” Applejack yells to Doug as she gallops. Not directly at the pig but to the side, hoping to turn her greater speed and cornering to cut the pig off, rather than spur him to run even faster. Doug drops the sack, a grunt escaping, as he goes the other direction.

The piglet squeals like a stuck pig, again sending chills down their spines, as it finds itself cut off from the potential escape. The imposing two legged creature, arms spread wide, looks a lot more intimidating than the pony that’s very similar to their old pony. He debates whether or not he can make it past those grasping arms, cautiously trying one direction and then another as the creature shifts back and forth. It doesn’t believe his words, that he’s not going to hurt him, about to just try to barrel right past him as a rope slips around his neck.

“Gotcha!” Applejack yells as she pulls her lasso tight. The pig topples to his side, again squealing like his life depends on it, as both she and Doug charge. Doug flips the pig back on his back as he tries to right himself and Applejack whips the rope around to complete the hogtie in a matter of seconds.

She smirks to herself as Doug hoists the pig to his shoulder, the two better able to ignore the frenzied squeals. “We ain’t gonna hurt ya,” she reassures as Doug pats him on the back. She grabs one of the fallen pails, hoofing it to Doug so he can let the pig feed. It does wonders to calm him down, and the two return to the sack with a pig already asleep inside. Two of the other pigs are fighting over the other downed pail, and Applejack rolls her eyes as they pop up to follow them only once the pail is empty.

A bird flies up, chirping anxiously and motioning to the north.

“Fluttershy is trapped in a well!?” Doug guesses. Applejack rolls her eyes. Only that pegasus would get trapped in someplace she could just fly out.

The bird seems to think for a moment, then lands to tilt her wing in a ‘sort of’ manner.

Next Chapter: Ch. 103 - The Retch Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 51 Minutes