You could always count on an Apple.

For a few generations now, that had been a frequent enough phrase in Mansfield that even visitors left knowing it was true, using it themselves even if they didn’t fully know why.

Even before their national recognition by the crown with an honorary nobility or, more locally, the town’s mayor granting the middle Apple child an award from the town itself, everyone knew the Apples were a clan to be depended upon and trusted. “No Apple would ever cheat you.” “Apples’ll always tell you how it is.” “I’d trust an Apple sooner ‘an my own wits.”

You could always count on an Apple.

But some Apples could be counted on different things than others.

The current crop of Mansfield Apples were united under this familial truth. Bound by more than a name, but a tradition going back generations, a tighter knit family would be hard pressed to come by. And yet, despite this unshakable similarity, each Apple stood apart, a unique individual capable of walking their own true path.

The previous matriarch of the family, lovingly called Granny Smith by family and friends alike, had often described it similar to their orchards. Despite the distinct varieties or even the differences in individual fruits on one tree, they were all apples. It didn’t matter where you went, or where you were from--they were all Apples; they were all family.

She had been known for her homegrown brand of wisdom, even well before her first grey hair. One could always count on Granny Smith Apple to know just what to say, no matter the situation. And often without asking.

The next eldest of the Mansfield Apples was quite the opposite. Where Granny had been a source for the troubled to get advice on what to do, Macintosh--Big Mac to most--could be counted on just doing. Even before the tragic car accident that took his parents’ lives, he had been taciturn, preferring drawled out monosyllables when he had to speak and actions when he didn’t. He’d taken his place as head of the farm easily, working hard almost every day to see his family farm continue to prosper.

Folding back the other way, the middle Apple, Jack, was not only a doer but an incredibly vocal doer. Above all things, one could count on Jack Apple to be true to herself, honest and open, regardless of the situation or circumstance. She’d not only made wonderful, lasting friendships but earned the respect of the entire town of Mansfield. Granny Smith had called her an Apple’s Apple, and no one could disagree.

Which left the last of the Mansfield Apples: Alice Apple. Though a devoted and much beloved member of the family, even the Apples had to admit that the thing a person could most count on from Alice Apple was a knack for getting into trouble. Earnestly, with nothing but the best of intentions, true, but trouble nonetheless. After founding the Crusaders with her two friends, Sarah and Stephanie, that trouble had only multiplied by leaps and bounds. Still, as Granny would often be heard saying, those with a knack for getting into trouble also had a knack for getting out, sooner or later. And young Apples often had a strong need to prove themselves, whatever the consequences.

With all the things her sister and friends were doing, it was inevitable she’d find a way to help, no matter how small. Or how big. She just needed an opportunity.

Realizing that no one was going to give her one, she decided to find her own. Though she was allowed in the Hub--the base of operations for Jack and the others--she would always be shooed out when they talked of anything important.

That’s why she had had no choice but to sneak in.

Though most of her eavesdropping sessions had amounted to nothing, the night before, she had heard the news that Twila’s brother, Llewellyn Shields, and the Dark Princess herself, Luna, had been exiled to a region called the ‘Ghost Rim’. Twila wasn’t prepared to go there herself. She had other priorities. So if she couldn’t, Alice would.

It had taken hours and several mugs full of coffee but somehow, Alice had managed to stay awake longer than everyone else in the house. Through till morning, in fact. She lay under her bed sheets, reading a book on the Ghost Rim by candlelight. The book had been ‘borrowed’ from Twila’s library, and it was the only research Alice could afford to do. Unfortunately, it didn't tell her much.

She quietly listened for any sounds. The only thing she could hear was the slow, rumbling snores of her brother. Nodding to herself, she shut the book and blew out the candle, then carefully climbed out of bed.

Kneeling down, she retrieved a rugged, brown backpack from under her bed. She had already packed everything she needed, simple supplies like food, a multi-purpose knife...only things she’d need. Finally, she got changed out of her yellow pyjamas and got changed into her normal clothes, overalls and all.

Now came the hardest part. Alice bit her lip, taking a wary step closer to the door. The floorboards creaked in protest as she moved, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes every time they made a sound. The house was incredibly old, no comfort to thieves.

Eventually she made it to her door and, with a trembling hand, turned the knob. The door slowly swung open, creaking of course. Once she was in the hallway, Alice closed the door behind her. If it looked like she was having a lie-in tomorrow, that’d buy her some time. She wasn’t stupid; she knew her family would come looking for her if--no, when--they found out she was gone.

She slipped past the bedroom doors as quietly as the building would let her. She had made this journey before and, every time, her sister caught her in the act. That was when she was young though. This time would be different.

The young woman stopped just outside Jack’s door, leaning towards it. She could hear light snores from two people: Jack and Dash. Alice smiled to herself before continuing onward; at least they weren’t doing anything raunchy.

Then came the stairs. A stealther’s worst enemy. Alice swallowed and went for it, each step making its protest at her every move. Once she reached the bottom floor, she froze in place, listening out for any movement. Nothing. Alice grinned.

She was home free now.

But she wasn’t completely done yet. Before she left, one final thing had to be done. It’d completely reveal her intentions but to not do so just wasn’t... Apple. The last thing Alice wanted was her family to worry sick over her. Especially Jack.

Going into the living room, she spotted what she needed on the small, coffee table. A notepad, accompanied by a pen. She crouched down, crawling over to them and peering at the front page of the pad. It seemed that Pinkie had done some crazy doodles. Or something, it was hard to tell exactly.

Ripping the front page off revealed another, blank one. Alice picked up the pen and began to determinedly scribble down what she needed to say,

Guys;

I’m sorry. I can’t just sit around anymore. I’ve gotta help. I promise I’ll be back with Luna before you know it.

She hesitated, and then quickly added,

Love you all.
-Alice

It was a short note, yes, but hopefully it’d get her point across. She wasn’t really a wordsmith anyway. Taking one last hard look at her words, she headed out of the room, going to the front door. She paused when her hand touched the cold door knob, taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes.

Here I go.

Her eyes flashed open, and she opened the door, almost leaping outside and slamming the door behind her. She began to sprint away but gave the old house--her home--one last look. With a sad smile, she wiped a tear from her eyes and went on towards her first destination: the clubhouse.

In life in the Tyrant’s reign, it was comforting to know that she didn’t decide to burn down clubhouses. Alice and her friends’ ‘homebase’ still stood alongside the great apple tree, located in the eastern field. Thankfully far removed from the damage that was inflicted on the farm. For the girls, it was and always would be a safe haven of sorts.

Originally the clubhouse was Jack’s, but it had been reduced to a dire state since then. Alice took up the mantle of maintaining it, repairing and sprucing it up herself. While she was proud of her efforts, Alice always preferred to help her family out rather than build some tables.

Alice walked up the ramp, wood creaking under her feet. Hopefully she’d find her two best friends here and if not... well, she’d wait and think over what she had heard. After she had overheard Twila and Spike, she’d immediately sent word to her friends to meet up with her in the morning, as early as they could manage.

Thankfully, a bored groan from within told Alice all she needed to know. She strided inside the main clubhouse room, spotting a Scrabble board between her two friends.

On the right, a girl with messy, cerise hair sat, chin resting on her hand. She let out a long sigh, staring at the board without any interest. Opposite her was a girl who may as well been the complete opposite. She had curly, but well groomed, purple hair, with pale pink highlights. She wore a lavender skirt and white t-shirt, contrasting with the other’s orange hoodie and denim jeans.

“Stephanie, can we stop this boring game now? We already know you’re going to win...”

“Wait!” Stephanie exclaimed, hurriedly putting some tiles onto the board. She then giggled with excitement and cheered, “Triple word score!”

“Yeah, whatever...” The tomboy rolled her eyes.

“Hey, Scoots, hey, Sweetie. Whatcha doing?” Alice asked as she approached.

“Ending this boring game, that’s what,” Scoots answered, flipping the board and sending tiles flying into the air.

“Sarah! Now we’re gonna have to clean that all up!” Sweetie protested, folding her arms and pouting.

“Yeah yeah, we can do that later.” Alice waved a hand dismissively. “I got news and an awesome idea!”

Scoots raised an eyebrow, shuffling closer towards Alice. “I do like awesome ideas. Go on.”

“Well listen up!” Alice cleared her throat before explaining, “I heard Spike and Twila listening to the radio and that on these islands called the ‘Ghost Rim’--”

“Did you say ‘Ghost Rim’...?” Sweetie asked, freezing in place.

Alice gave Stephanie a blunt look. “Yeah. I did. Anyway!” she exclaimed, taking in a breath before unloading her spiel. “They heard that Princess Luna herself might be on these Ghost Rim Islands and--”

“Alice, where are you going with this?” Scoots questioned, tilting her head to the side.

“If ya’ll let me finish, maybe you’d find out!” Both Scoots and Sweetie nodded rapidly, saying no more. “Good. Now mah sister and her friends aren’t gonna go there ‘cause they don’t have the time or somethin’. So I was thinkin’ that if they won’t, we can!”

Stephanie and Sarah shared skeptical looks before staring back at Alice, Sweetie raising a hand like a timid child in a school lesson.

“Yes. Y’all can talk now,” Alice deadpanned.

“Alice, I don’t think that that’s a very good idea...” Sweetie said, resuming her tidying up.

Alice frowned, glaring at her friends. “Why in the hell not?”

“As awesome as it sounds, that plan has more holes in it than the sweaters Sweetie knitted us for Christmas.” Stephanie blushed, busying herself with the scrabble pieces while Scoots continued, “First, how do we know that they’re even still there?”

Alice puffed out her chest and confidently answered, “‘Cause Twila knew it. And her brother’s there, so if she’s sure, then she’s right.”

“How does that even work?”

Alice shrank, rubbing her chin. “Uh... well it’s a sibling thing! I could tell when either Jack or Mac were in trouble, if I thought about ‘em.”

Sarah swatted her fringe away from her eyes. “Okay, so even if they are there... how do you plan on getting to the Ghost Rim?!”

The farm girl leant towards Scoots, staring into her eyes with a deadly seriousness. “Well maybe if you’d help me figure this out instead of whinin’ ‘bout it, we could figure that out!”

Scoots snorted in defiance, bringing her head closer to Alice’s so that their noses almost touched. “We’re not whining, we’re being smart!”

“Says the girl who thought disturbing a hive full of bees would be a funny idea!” Alice retorted. It wasn’t long before the two girls were butting heads quite literally.

“Guys! Stop arguing already!” Sweetie stepped in, pulling the angry Scoots away. “Both of you just calm down,” she ordered in a motherly tone that almost mimicked her sister.

“She started it,” Alice said, pointing at her former opponent.

Sarah widened her eyes in anger. “No way! She--”

“GUYS!”

Both Alice and Scoots flinched at the extremely loud yell. For such a sweet looking girl, Stephanie had one of the loudest voices in the world. She could even give Pinkie a run for her money. And she sounded better, too.

“Look, Alice,” Sweetie said before the others could bicker again. “We both understand that you want to help your sister out, but we’re just looking out for you. We’ve done some crazy things in the past. But this could be really dangerous.”

“But I’m tired of doin’ nothin’ while my sister risks her life out there! Ya know what happened to her! She could’ve died!” Alice shouted, raising herself onto two feet.

“But she didn’t, Alice!” Sweetie replied, getting a little heated by Alice’s raw emotion. She could definitely feel her hurt and anger. Still, she tried to not let it affect her. “There’s no sense in risking your life too.”

“So ya want me to stand by and do nothin’?! Mah sis ain’t...” Alice swallowed harshly. She could feel her eyes getting watery. “She ain’t invincible...”

“Yeah, but she’s your sister. With her friends, they can handle anything,” Scoots pointed out, leaning back on the floor, resting her head on her hands.

Alice glanced at the nonchalant girl. “Oh really?! Have ya seen mah sis lately?! She’s... she’s real messed up. She puts on a brave face but...” Alice was failing to make one of her own, tears starting to coalesce. “She’s hurtin’... I can tell.”

Scoots sat upright, now looking at her distressed friend with concern. Sweetie extended a hand towards Alice, calmly saying, “Alice, we just--”

Alice batted away her hand. “Don’t say anythin’. I need some time to mahself.”

Before the other two could interject, Alice was already heading out of the clubhouse, lost into the maze of apple trees.

“Single to Gaingridge, please,” Alice requested, looking through the glass at the woman before her. She nodded in recognition and pressed a few buttons on a device near her side, printing out a ticket.

“That’ll be six dollars and twenty cents.” Her voice was monotonous. But who’d expect anything else from someone working the early morning shift?

Alice dug into her pocket, retrieving the required amount of change. “Here ya go.” She was given her ticket and left without another word.

She went through the lobby and onto the station proper. Scraps of rubbish blew about in the wind. Some of the ads pasted on the nearby walls were faded and torn. The station was almost dead. Not many came or went these days, considering the rising tensions lately. Alice remembered when this had been a fairly fun place to go; a gateway to new horizons.

The sign displaying train times told her all she needed to know. It was simple enough; the final destination of the train she had to go on was the port town, Gaingridge. But Mansfield was fairly landlocked--there were several other stops along the way, so this wouldn’t be a short journey.

Alice squinted her eyes, peering at where the sign, looking for which platform the train would dock at. “Er... platform two,” she muttered out loud to herself.

Looking up, she spotted another sign helpfully displaying the way to the right platform. She followed the direction it gave her, going down a tunnel that went under the tracks. The tunnel was arguably the worst part of the station. Dark, smelly and wet, with graffiti coating the walls. Unconsciously, Alice sped up her pace when going through it.

Her stomach began to rumble when she emerged from the darkness, but Alice told herself to wait until she was on the train before eating. She hugged herself in order to try and ward off the bitter, morning chill. Sitting down on a rusty, metal bench, she immediately regretted doing so, her rump feeling like it was sitting on ice. She did up the zip on her brown, patched-up coat and waited for the train to arrive.

She decided to go over her general plan. Gaingridge was a port town in the south of Torani. From there, Alice needed to take a boat to the island port of Misemo and then... find some way to the Ghost Rim. She’d cross that bridge when it came--money could take a girl anywhere. Scoots and Sweetie had laughed, but she’d knew that saving up her money for a special emergency was a good idea.

Alice yawned, then flicked herself on the cheek for doing so. Sleep could wait until the journey. According to the timetable, her train arrived in ten minutes. So she’d have to wait fifteen; public transport was never reliable.

A pit of emptiness began to form in her stomach. It wasn’t hunger.

Dang it Alice, stop feelin’ so homesick already! You’ll be back before ya know it! Alice grinned to herself. And with a Princess!

Fact was, she didn’t need to feel lonely because she was never truly alone. She put her hand down her shirt, retrieving a silver locket that hung around her neck. Opening it up carefully, she smiled when she saw what was inside: A picture of her parents, her mother holding a small baby with a red bow on her head. She was beautiful, with blonde hair that cascaded down her sharp, angled face and green eyes projecting motherly warmth. Next to her, with a large, powerful hand on her shoulder, was a heavily tanned plain-faced giant, with a red beard and scraggly, unkempt blonde hair. Despite his brutish appearance, Alice always noticed the small, trace beginnings of a smile at one corner of his mouth. In a way, it reminded the girl of her brother.

Love ya, Ma, love ya, Pa, she thought, giving the picture a light kiss, then slipping the locket back under her shirt.

The rumbling, grating sound of a train coming into the station interrupted Alice from her nostalgic memories. ‘Bout time.

Alice stood up, the train grinding to a halt on the rails. It was a simple vehicle, merely a dull grey in color. Looking inside, the seats didn’t look very luxurious either. She went to the train doors, watching them part aside. No one went out, so she went on in.

She took her seat well away from anyone else, placing her bag on the small table that came from the wall. Her place was next to the window so, in case she couldn’t sleep, she had something to look at.

Opening up her bag, she rummaged around in it for a while before retrieving a shiny, red apple. Licking her lips in anticipation, she took a big bite out of it. It was fresh, juicy and tasted really good. How could it not? It was from her farm after all.

It wasn’t long before the doors closed, and the train started chugging along. Alice’s stomach lurched slightly; she was sitting with her back to the direction the train was going in, and it felt a little disorientating. She got used to it soon enough though.

Eventually Alice had reduced the apple to a mere core. She peered at it, wondering what to do with the leftovers. Shrugging, she simply chucked it aside. It would hardly look astray alongside the empty packets and crumbs anyway.

Her stomach content, but not full, Alice folded her arms and leaned back against the seat. With a big yawn, she slowly closed her eyes. By the time she would wake up, the others would know that she had left. The thought of that unsettled her, yet she had bigger priorities to focus on.

She wasn’t a Prince or knight by any stretch of the imagination, but she was gonna do whatever it took to find Princess Luna.

The buzz of an alarm clock rose Macintosh from his slumber. He reached over and slammed the top of the device, rising sluggishly. It was the worst part of his day, rising. He lived for the hard work and satisfaction of getting things done with his own two hands, but mornings...

Yawning, he scratched underneath the elastic of his briefs and moved to the closet. Mac chose the gold standard--plaid, long sleeved shirt and jeans--and went to the bathroom down the hall. After a blissful hot shower, he emerged feeling a bit more like himself. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. Twenty past six. Good. He was actually on schedule for once.

Macintosh decided to bite the bullet and went back to his room to work on tending to the farm’s bookkeeping at the small table by his nightstand. He hated the fact that he was currently balancing their budget around dirty money, but it wasn’t like they had much choice.

Besides, it was at least giving Alice a nice little college fund.

It was hours later when Mac heard the room next door open, followed by the businesslike footsteps of his sister. Behind those, the nearly numb, clumsy footsteps of Isabelle. A few more hours and she’d be able to dance on the head of a pin. After just waking up? He’d seen newborn calves with better coordination.

He chuckled under his breath, then gave a small sniff in the air.

Someone was making pancakes. Alice’s favorite.

The giant of a man rose, smiling nostalgically at the thought of the youngest Apple. He remembered making pancake men for her all the time when she was around nine or ten. Bacon smiles, hashbrown hair, strawberry eyes. She always said she was too old for those kiddy things now, but she still seemed like a little girl to Mac.

Humming a merry little tune, he pushed aside the dozens of receipts lining the table and went to the hallway. Mac went to Alice’s room and knocked on the door.

“Sweet pea? Time ta get up. Soup’s on,” he drawled out in his deep baritone voice. He waited for a moment, listening for a confirmation. “Alice? Ya in there?” Slowly opening the door, he poked his head inside.

The bed was unmade, and several cabinets and drawers had been flung open. Odd, considering Alice was usually halfway tidy, unlike a certain other Apple who would remain nameless. He decided to quickly look for her.

Don’t panic yet, he repeated to himself, checking the bathroom, Jack’s room, the attic, and after a brief pause with his hand on the doorknob, Granny’s old room.

Nothing but dusty memories.

Macintosh returned to his room and picked up an old, outdated flip-phone. He dialed the number to the clubhouse on the edge of their land. The man remembered thinking how much of a waste putting a line there was when they first did. Nowadays though, there were just too many risks to not have a way to get in touch with his sister.

The line rang several times before Mac gave up. He swallowed, feeling worry sink into his stomach like a rock that got tossed into a lake.

Try her friends, he thought. Mac nodded at the idea and quickly punched his sausage-sized fingers along the buttons of the phone.

Two calls later, he had more questions than answers. Neither had said they had seen her, rather, they had simply been evasive when he talked to them. With that in mind, he tromped downstairs. A courtesy glance across the kitchen showcased his sister and her friends, but no Alice.

Macintosh looked over at Jack. “I can’t find Alice,” he bluntly said.

The blonde woman snorted, stuffing a large bite of her pancake into her mouth. “Well, she is that age, Mac.”

“Yeah,” Dash agreed with a yawn as she played with a strand of her hair. “Hell, when I was her age, I’d be out all night climbing roofs and shit. Girl’s probably just out with some friends.” Her smirk widened. “Or maybe with a boy.”

“Or a girl,” Pinkie added. Isabelle gave a casual shrug, suggesting it was a possibility. Mac had his doubts. Alice didn’t seem the type.

Then again, neither had Jack.

“Ya really think...?” Mac trailed off. He didn’t mind it, but he really didn’t want to think about the family baby being with someone right now.

Chylene coughed quietly, her gentle demeanor drawing Mac’s attention instantly. “I’m sure she’s just with Stephanie and Sarah, in their clubhouse.”

He shook his head. “Nope, checked there. Called their homes, too.”

“What about Sweet Tooth Lane? Maybe she went ta get a milkshake?” Jack offered.

“I can go check there! I have to look after the twins anyways!” Pinkie announced, nodding her head so quick her bangs bounced everywhere.

“Or hell, the library even.” The farmer glanced over at Twila. “You got an assistant workin’ it today, right? Maybe she’s there gettin’ a book on somethin’--she’s a bigger reader than the rest of the family.”

“I’ll go give him a call, be right back,” Twila said, leaving to the other room.

Mac bit his lip, wringing his hands as he stood about, deep in thought. He was snapped out of it by a hand resting on one of his powerful arms.

“Go ta the livin’ room. Sit,” Jack said, briefly locking glances with him.

Mac frowned. “But--”

“Jus’ do it,” Jack sharply countered, giving his back a hard slap. Mac nodded and took a few slow steps into the living room.

He ignored the television for now and moved over to his favorite recliner. The tanned man had used it so often that the cushion might as well be molded to his butt. Before he could sit, he noticed a hastily written note resting on a countertop nearby. He picked it up.

Guys;

I’m sorry. I can’t just sit around anymore. I’ve gotta help. I promise I’ll be back with Luna before you know it.

Love you all.
-Alice

His pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he read the simple message over and over. Finally, he managed to let out a loud bellow.

“Jack!” he cried out, “Get yer fuckin’ ass in here!”