“So,” Doug says, trying to inject a bit of cheer in his voice as they walk along one of the many dirt paths through the orchards, “do you mostly grow apples here at Sweet Apple Acres?” Flowers adorn many of the trees around them, others laden with immature apples that, if one glances away, seem to get bigger in just that short moment. Is that normal for things to grow this fast? Or is it more… earth pony magic? at play?

“Ah suppose the name gives it away, huh?” Applejack returns a jocular smile. “Though we also grow a mix of vegetables. And wheat, for bakin’ ‘n hay.”

“What about hay bacon?” Doug asks jovially, with quite a bit of an upswing in his voice. Some normal bacon would be amazing. I know horses back home can eat meat, if it happens in front of them, but who knows with these creatures. I can’t keep thinking about them like horses, or ponies, even if that is what they call themselves.

“Well, some ponies get a kick out’a eatin’ like a griffon, but Ah’ve never been much for it. Everypony likes hayburgers, though.” Applejack shrugs. “Might be able to fix some up for lunch if’n ya like.”

Huh. Griffons? Why not. “Actually, I don’t know if I could eat that.” At Applejack’s puzzled look he continues, “I’m not able to digest hay. Or get enough nutrients out of the cellulose to make it worthwhile to eat.”

“Ya can’t?” Applejack replies with a frown. Please don’t be a carnivore, wantin' to eat Apples instead'a apples. Even griffons can stick to a pony diet when they’re here. “That’ll make feedin’ ya ‘bit more expensive.”

“I guess I can try it, just to see if it works, but no promises. I can eat wheat, though. The seeds, that is, though generally milled and baked into bread.” Doug glances around, looking for the wheat fields or some sort of mill, though the surrounding orchard blocks his view. “You can do that, right? You mentioned baking, I assume pies and whatnot.”

Applejack nods, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Pies, fritters, dumplings, Brown Betty; you name it, we bake apples into it. We’ve got wheat flour back at the house, so you won’t starve or nothing.” He noticeably relaxes, and she continues, “But, you’ll need to earn your keep around here.” Despite her hard words she passes him the two apples. Doug takes a bite, again surprised by the delicious taste, which he spends far too little time savoring.

He asks, “Okay, how can I help?” as they arrive at Applejack’s half-full cart. Longer and wider than the one she brought to market, three short walls contain a mix of empty and full baskets. Each one looks like it can hold dozens of apples, maybe even a bushel. Two posts stick out the front with a tangle of straps for a harness. She must know how to get in and out by herself, and it’s probably far less complicated than it looks.

“Pretty simple. Just follow after me with the cart, get empty baskets under the trees that need’em and load up all the baskets after Ah’m done.” Applejack motions to the rows of trees stretching off into the distance, all full of ripe red and green apples waiting to be harvested. “We’ll try out a bit o’ everythin’, see what you’re good at.”

“Easy enough,” Doug returns, wondering how Applejack got the fairly large baskets off the cart, much less back onto it, without a ramp. Or thumbs. Though with how her tail moves, she probably just lifts them up. Oh, jeez, if she does, does he need to worry about her flashing him again? He certainly hopes not!

Though another part of him desperately hopes so.

“So, Ah’ve gotta ask,” Applejack says, though she pauses for a moment before the first tree, collecting her thoughts. Then her hooves lash out, one solid buck bringing every apple cascading into the baskets around her. Not a one missed. Good. And the new blossoms are already coming in nicely.

“Yeah?” Doug shakes his head, almost in disbelief, that Applejack’s method of harvesting worked so perfectly, much less worked at all. Certainly more efficient than picking them by hand. Is it similar to what I saw with the tree healing itself? What other - well, for lack of a better term - magical things can they do? He stacks the first of six bushel baskets on top of the second, grunting as he lifts and staggers the heavy load to the cart. He turns around, wiping the not-yet-existent sweat off his brow to see Applejack watching him carefully, her eyes slightly narrowed.

“Why’d ya talk about whorses?” When Doug merely purses his lips and grabs the next two baskets she says, “Cloud Kicker was tellin’ me what she heard from Storied Pages, about enslavin’ ponies.”

“First,” Doug says harshly, straining as he lifts the baskets, “like I said before, we don’t enslave ponies.”

“Ah know,” Applejack retorts. “Ah heard ya the first time, and Ah didn’t accuse ya of doin’ that. Ah asked why ya talked about whorses in the first place.”

“Oh.” Doug drops two baskets in the cart as Applejack moves to the next tree. “Because I didn’t realize it would be an issue. I thought domesticating animals was a normal practice. And I hadn’t done a great job of emphasizing the differences between animals, horses and ponies, there and here. Or realized how my statements would be taken, conflating the two.”

“Seems like it would’a been easier to lie about it,” Applejack says, again watching Doug as he picks up the last two baskets. She bucks the next tree, already glad to not have to be the one kicking the baskets into the cart. Maybe not twice as fast as working solo, but a definite improvement. “Or not bring it up in the first place.”

“Sure, it might seem like that,” Doug concedes, dropping the baskets and grabbing a set of empties for the next few trees, “and bringing it up might not have been the best idea. But while lying might have been easier in the short term, they sure have a funny way of getting worse and worse the longer they go on.”

“Partner,” Applejack says with a chuckle and relieved shake of her head, “ya don’t need to tell me about the danger of coverin’ one lie with another.” The pair continue moving from tree to tree, making short work of the rows. “There was one time, year or two back, when Ah promised Filthy Rich that Ah’d let him sell Sweet Apple Acres cider at his store, instead’a fresh from the farm. Well, Granny nixed that idea faster’n fresh cider disappears on fresh cider day. But, problem was, Ah sure as sugar didn’t want to go back on my promise to Filthy. So Ah made up a story about Granny bein’ sick, and us bein’ short hooved on the farm, and…”

Doug glances over as Applejack trails off. He’s glad for the break, as even after this short time the cart has gotten quite heavy from baskets upon baskets of apples. His relief fades when he sees Applejack, though. She’s standing still, eyes closed, quick breaths rapidly snorting through her nostrils. Her body shakes, he can’t tell from rage or sorrow, maybe both. Powerful muscles clench, the tense lines visible even through her coat.

“Applejack?” Doug hesitantly says, slowly approaching. “You okay?”

She snorts, louder this time, and turns her head away from him. “It’s nothing,” she forces out, a sharp intake of breath that she holds for several seconds, body quivering.

“I can see that,” Doug says, concerned as he crouches down, though he can’t help smiling at the joke. One arm raises up, resting in what he hopes is a comforting manner on her withers.

“Nothing you can help with,” Applejack appends, raising her head to glare at him. He just sits there, the smugness of his little half-smile fading.

“We can talk about it, if you want,” Doug says quietly. “Or I can go, give you some time to yourself.”

Applejack slowly gets her choked sobs under control, finally shaking her head. “No, ya don’t need to go. It’s just, Ah lied back then about the farm bein’ short hooved, and now we really are. It ain’t your fault or nothin’.”

“Regardless. I’m sorry to hear that,” Doug says, offering her a sympathetic smile.

“Thanks,” Applejack says, taking a deep breath and moving to the next tree. She frowns at the haphazard placement of the baskets. She snaps, “You can’t just throw ‘em down any which way!”

“How would you like them arranged?” Doug asks, grabbing a new stack of empties after he drops off a pair of full baskets. He walks over, watching carefully as she rearranges them. “There some trick you have to tell where the apples are going to fall?”

“Well,” Applejack sputters, glancing up at the apples and down at the baskets. “Ah just do!” She bluntly kicks the last of the baskets into position, huffing loudly. “What were we talkin’ about?”

Doug studies the apples above, trying to figure out the rhyme or reason of the basket placement. Maybe once she kicks the tree it’ll be obvious. Hopefully. “Um, you asked about why I didn’t lie. I’m sure I would have slipped up at some point, and figured that any trouble I might get in for the truth would be far outclassed for whatever trouble I’d get into for the truth plus whatever lies I tried to cover it with.”

Applejack frowns. “So, ya don’t believe that honesty is the best policy, you just do it ‘cause you think you’ll get in less trouble?”

“Well, I think both of those are true.” Doug carefully watches Applejack buck the tree, trying to note which apples fall where. Man, she has a beautiful body. Powerful, but not bulky. Pretty green eyes. Cheerful, when she isn’t so dour. Regardless, focus! Maybe could I graph out where the apples fall? Or is this really worth the effort? Could I try to get more of an instinctive feel for it? “The second is more of a consequence of the first, I suppose. Plus it’s, I don’t know, the right thing to do.”

“So,” Applejack says with a sly smile, “ya think Honesty is the most important of the Tenets of Harmony?” She reverently glances towards the sun rising in the east. Her hoof travels across her chest, making a five pointed star that ends in the center.

“Tenets of Harmony?” Doug asks dubiously. “Can’t say I’ve heard of those, specifically.”

“Wha?” Applejack stammers, turning from the next tree to stare at Doug incredulously. “How in the hay have you not heard of the Tenets of Harmony?”

“Maybe they were called something else?” Doug replies as he picks up two baskets, loading them onto the cart. “I’m going to go with Love.”

“Love?” Applejack says with a loud snort. “Love ain’t one of the Tenets.” She emphasizes each point as she makes the motions of the star again, starting on the top left of her shoulder, then bottom right, top center, bottom left, top right, and ends in the center. “Ya got Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Kindness, Laughter, and Friendship.”

“Laughter?” Doug asks, his disbelief even plainer. He has to restrain himself from laughing out loud, fitting as that might be. “That seems like an odd trait to emphasize.”

“Well, you know, optimism. Keeping good spirits.” Applejack bucks the next tree, apples cascading down around her. “Perseverance.”

“Alright, I can see that. Honesty, Kindness, they’re a bit more obvious.”

“And Friendship’s distinct from Love,” Applejack continues, glancing towards the lonely mountain to the east, “‘Cause there’s a Princess of Love, and an Element of Friendship, and she ain’t the Princess of Friendship.”

“I… guess that makes sense?” Doug says, confused. That’s a lot to parse. Princess of Love? Are there multiple princesses, and a queen and king? Princes? How does one become the ‘Princess’ of something so abstract? He pauses for a few seconds, then shrugs. “Still going with Love.”

“And why’s that?” Applejack asks with a roll of her eyes.

Doug takes a deep breath, staring off into the distance. “Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

Doug smiles to himself, grabbing one of the baskets now full of apples and lifting it to the cart.

Applejack finds herself standing, staring at Doug, mouth hanging open. Ah’ve never heard it put like that before. “Tha… that was beautiful. Did ya come up with it just now?”

Doug chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I cribbed it from a much greater author than myself.”

Applejack slowly nods. “Ya know, Ah think that’s the first time Ah’ve seen ya really smile.” And Ah like it.

Doug’s smile grows a little larger before it returns to his normal neutral gaze.

“Still,” Applejack continues, “it seems a little like a cop-out. Ya know, tryin’ ta avoid answerin’ the question. ‘Cause ya can’t choose every part of Harmony as your favorite.”

Doug returns a sly wink at Applejack. “Why not?” He grabs the next basket as she scoffs. “Seems to me like each of them is important. And if you don’t have love? You might as well not have any of them.”

“Alright, partner, you’ve made your point,” Applejack says, chuckling as she moves on to the next tree. She can’t help but try to peer into those tiny blue eyes of his. Does he have love?

Next Chapter: Ch. 7 - Heartbound Loop Estimated time remaining: 15 Hours, 54 Minutes