Lunch consists of a large bowl of mixed greens with dashes of white, orange, yellow, and red, set out on the table. Doug picks out the first, most obvious object: a single six inch orange cone about the diameter of his finger. I think this is a carrot. He brushes it off, then snaps it in half. It comes apart easily, hard and desiccated. The inside looks like a carrot. He sniffs experimentally. Doesn’t smell like much. He takes a small nibble, shrugs, and eats the rest. Carrot, or its equivalent. I hope.

The yellow flecks scattered around that he initially thought of as cheese turns out to be, or at least he suspects to be, some sort of flower. Dried and crumbled dandelions, if he has any guess. He sighs as he pushes them off to the side. The green tubes and attached leaves share a similar treatment, leaving him with larger, almost circular green leaves with a pointed tip he suspects are either spinach or apple. Or poison oak. You know, I probably should have washed the carrot off first.

He sits there for a moment, staring at the bowl. Okay, dandelions are bitter and not good for you. Apple leaves are... probably neutral? I haven’t seen any trees besides apples. Or much ground cover other than grass, besides that one field dedicated to critters. Do I go for it? He glances to the front door, then back at the bowl. Problem is, even if I can eat it, leaves and grasses are just terrible for nutrients. He looks back at the front door. His stomach grumbles, letting him know the carrot isn’t enough.

Eh. Let’s give it a shot.

Doug pops the leaf into his mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste of the residual dandelion. The leaf itself tastes sweet, if only a little. Like brussel sprouts, something he never cared for. He chews and swallows the otherwise tasteless mush, then pushes the bowl away from him. Maybe if it was straight apple leaves, and I think the red pieces are apple blossoms. Again, probably something that I can technically eat, but as a last resort.

He gets up, going to the refrigerator. The handle, or whatever they call it, sticks out enough to allow a hoof to pull the door open. Inside is less variety than he expected; in fact, it’s almost empty. A few bottles and jugs of various white and amber liquids, and nearly three dozen eggs. If one of these is milk, that would be amazing. And the eggs look just like chicken eggs. That’s my protein, right there. They wouldn’t refrigerate eggs they don’t plan on cooking with, right? And I should definitely cook these.

A minute of rummaging around the cabinets locates a suitable pan, and a glass, and the burners on the stove are fairly self explanatory. He grabs two eggs, considers for a moment, then grabs two more, breaking them into the heating pan. A suitable spatula is a bit more difficult, but he does find a loaf of bread, and he ends up taking the ladle Granny Smith was using earlier to scramble the quickly cooking eggs.

With little else to do Doug goes back to the fridge, grabbing the first jug of opaque white liquid. The way the thick liquid barely sloshes around suggests some kind of cream. The largest jug seems a bit more promising. The top pops off easily, and Doug takes a whiff. Smells like milk. He pours a dash into the glass, testing the taste. Thick, way more than the reduced fat I’m used to. Whole milk? Tastes… not bad. Pretty good, actually. He glances at the container, wishing the ponies had a more regulated labeling system.

I wonder if this is pony milk.

Doug glances back to the front door, then back at the bottle.

Screw it.

He pours a full glass, slams it down, and returns the slightly lighter jug to the fridge. He piles the eggs onto the bread, scrubs off the pan, washes out the glass, and sets them on the drying rack. No dishwasher. He stretches his legs, teasing out a few of the remaining cramps, then grabs his sandwich and leaves through the front door. A hammer and box of nails are waiting for him on the porch. He adds them to his now full inventory and makes his way to the closest fence, a short walk to the southeast.

Few of the wooden fence posts or railings along the main road leading between Sweet Apple Acres and Ponyville need replacing or even touch ups, leaving Doug plenty of time to think to himself. He’s grateful to Applejack for the respite, even as his legs complain. He inspects the hammer as he walks along the waist high fence line. Solid steel head, claw on the back, exactly like a hammer he would use. The shaft is made of, if he guessed, apple wood, with intricate leaf designs whittled into the handle. Although the grip is different; instead of several ridges for fingers, two distinct depressions line the sides about three inches apart. Bite marks? Not that he’s looked at their mouths too closely. Still, that seems incredibly uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, in the north orchards, Applejack loads the fourth full basket of apples into her cart. Only thirty six more to go. She sighs to herself. Sure liked it more when Doug was helpin’ out with this. She glances up as a prismatic blur speeds overhead, then goes back to her work, loud peals of hoof on trunk ringing through the orchards.

Moments later and a raspy voice comes from above. “Hey, Applesnack.” Applejack glances up; Rainbow Dash hovers, glaring daggers at her. A hoof brandishes a piece of paper. “Why’d ya do it?”

Applejack peers up at Rainbow Dash, raising an eyebrow. Ah hate it when she makes me guess. And it ain’t like Ah can read that from here. “Farm needed the hooves,” Applejack returns, spinning around to buck the next tree in line. Apples cascade around her, filling the next four baskets.

“Wait, what?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, spinning the paper in her hoof around so she can read it again. After a moment she drops lower, this time holding the paper directly in front of Applejack’s face. “Not that! Makes no difference who you have working on the farm. You could be bedding Doug for all I care.”

Applejack nervously gulps, a slight flush of red flashing on her cheeks. She pushes past the pegasus to gather the next basket, her tail tugging close to her body.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Rainbow Dash. Her eyebrow raises, a mirror of Applejack’s. “Seriously?” she deadpans. She shakes her head, clearing her head of the mental image. “No! I mean, why did you report me? You could have just come and talked to me if you had a problem. I thought we were friends!”

“Report you? You ain’t talkin’ a lick o’ sense,” Applejack says, almost regaining her neutral tone from before. She drops the basket off before looking Rainbow Dash in the eye. “We are friends. Why would Ah report you? And for what?”

“Well, somepony did.” Rainbow Dash reads directly from the page. “For reckless or negligent actions taken with the use of the Ponyville Weather Team’s resources that resulted in damages or injury to anypony.” She flicks the page in frustration, “I wasn’t reckless or negligent! And Doug isn’t even anypony!”

“He weren’t injured neither, though ya scared him somethin’ fierce.” Applejack’s eyes narrow. “Also, ain’t the technical definition of ‘anypony’ broader’n that?”

“I don’t know, go ask Tall Order.” Rainbow Dash huffs. “And the damage to your tree wasn’t even that bad!” She scowls, crushes the pages in her hooves and throws it to the ground. “I bet Doug did it.”

“Ah doubt it, but you’d have to ask him,” Applejack says, trying to forestall the pegasus’ wrath. “It can’t be that bad, right? What’s the punishment, a small fine?” She goes to the page, picking it up and unballing it.

“It isn’t about the fine!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, throwing her hooves in the air. “The Wonderbolts take any infraction really seriously! Something like this could stop me from getting in!”

Applejack merely reads, frowning at the contents. “Rainbow Dash,” she explains patiently, her hoof waving the paper around, “this ain’t a citation on negligent behavior. It’s some kinda Friendship report.” Her attention goes back to the paper.

“I know that,” Rainbow Dash says sheepishly, snatching the pages from Applejack. The farmpony watches bemusedly as Rainbow Dash smooths them out carefully. “Fluffy Clouds just told me that it was either do this or he’d write me up for the negligence stuff. And it’s not like I need help learning how to make friends! This report treats you like a wet-eared foal!” Her voice goes really high pitched, “Are your friends earth ponies or pegasi? Ask your friends about their interests!” She sighs, her voice going back to normal. “This is seriously going to cut into my recovery time.”

“You mean your nappy time?” Applejack asks, grinning.

“Better watch yourself, Applesmack,” Rainbow Dash growls out. “Because if I’m going to do the time, I’m gonna do the crime.”

“Okay, Maretta.” Applejack goes back to her work. Pony, Ah spend too much time around Rarity. “So, who ya gotta make friends with? Doug?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash says dejectedly. “That’s probably easier than fighting the charges, huh.”

“Probably. He’s pretty easy goin’.” Applejack shrugs. “He’s workin’ on the perimeter fence, or should be.”

“Cool.” Rainbow Dash awkwardly scratches the back of her mane. “Hey, um, sorry about the whole accusing you of reporting me thing.”

“Don’t break any more'a mah trees and we’ll call it even.” Applejack waves as Rainbow Dash takes to the air.

“No promises!” Rainbow Dash calls as she zips off, chromatic contrail behind her. She scans from her high vantage point along the outer edges of the farm. It doesn’t take her long to find Doug, working his way along the southern edge of the furthest southeast field. She puts in a few loops and twirls as she zooms down on the unsuspecting creature, wings flaring out as she comes to a stop above him. She frowns when he doesn’t notice her aerial show, dropping down a little closer.

“Hey,” she calls out, waving a hoof as he turns and looks up. She expected some sort of reaction to seeing her, but not the flash of anger.

“Hello, Rainbow Dash,” Doug calls back, his voice oddly even despite his breath quickening. His eyes narrow, watching her intently. He sets the box down on the nearest post, palming a few of the two inch long nails. He lets the hammer slip from his grasp, going from holding it by the clawed head to clenching the end of the shaft. “What do you want?”

“I came here to apologize,” Rainbow Dash growls out. Her teeth grind at the injustice.

“Okay,” Doug says, his tight grip relaxing.

“Okay, so, we’re good?” Rainbow Dash says, pulling out the piece of paper. “I also have to ask you a few questions.” She squints as she reads. “So, write friend’s name here, are you an earth pony or a pegasus?”

“That’s it?” Doug says in disbelief. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” Rainbow Dash returns dryly. “It's some foal's report. What did you expect? ”

“I don’t know,” Doug says sarcastically. “An actual apology? You know, where you express regret over your actions, and promise to do something different next time?”

“Seriously?” Rainbow Dash snorts. “I’m sorry my boss told me to do something, and I had to act on insufficient information? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No,” Doug says, his patience wearing thin. “Just because it includes the words ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t make it an apology. And neither does blaming others for your choices.”

“Um, that’s because I’m not sorry for what I did, and I’m not going to apologize for it.” Rainbow Dash’s wings begin to beat a little faster. “I mean, what if you had been going around attacking ponies?”

“Maybe if I had actually been doing that,” Doug yells, his hand tightening around the hammer, “but I didn’t! And it was clear from my actions that I wasn’t going to!”

“Like we could tell that!” Rainbow Dash shouts. “You could have been anything, and I had to act! So why won’t you just accept my apology?!”

“Well,” Doug shouts back, “maybe if you actually apologized I would! But all I’m hearing are poor excuses for your behavior!”

Rainbow Dash growls, dropping down. She snarls, hoof pawing at the ground as she prepares to charge.

Next Chapter: Ch. 18 - Giantsbane Estimated time remaining: 14 Hours, 11 Minutes