A New Landscape

UPDATED: 11/13/2019

>a “hard worker” the website said
>she certainly looked pretty strong
>the picture on the screen showed her at all angles
>certainly looked like the kind of pony who would be able to help you do your landscaping work

>so, you splurged
>made the order, spent the money you’d been saving up
>from what you hear, these ponies are pretty hardy
>and in the list of descriptions, you saw “background in agriculture and manual labor”
>and, surprisingly, she was rather cheap to purchase
>that was all you needed to hear

>You were surprised when you heard your phone ring so early in the morning
>it was the salesmen notifying you of when they would arrive at your house with your brand new pony you purchased
>11:00 am in the morning
>It was a Sunday, normally your day off to sleep in
>but the news made you excited enough to make it impossible to sleep anymore
>So, you get up and groggily set up your coffee maker

>You’ve already planned it out
>You’ve got a guest room that you basically never use
>It’ll be where she can sleep
>and you’ve done your research on what ponies can eat
>obviously, there’s no meat items allowed
>but eggs are surprisingly ok to feed them, however
>so, you bought a few dozen eggs
>got plenty of fresh veggies and fruit
>even some fancy bread

>true, you made your wallet cry a little bit
>you do okay for yourself, but you’re not exactly rich either
>but it’s the middle of summer, and there is plenty of landscaping work that you and your company have to do right now
>you make a decent living
>even if it’s tiring work
>hopefully, your little pony will be up to helping out
>you took a bit of a gamble
>you’ll have to see!

>Finally, at ten past 11:00, you hear the knock on the door
>a few loud thumps
>then, the doorbell
>You get up from your chair, where you’ve been sitting anxiously for the last half hour
>you dart over, and open the door

>on the other side, there’s a short, chubby man
>maybe 5 foot 7
>and in his hand, he’s holding a thick leather leash
>your eyes follow it down, until you clap eyes on her

>there she is, the pony that was in the picture
>orange coat
>little white freckles on her cheeks
>emerald green eyes
>blonde mane done up in a ponytail
>it’s definitely the same pony

>but then, you notice a few other things
>and the little smile on your face slowly fades away

>yeah, her mane is blonde
>but, dirty blonde
>as in, ACTUAL dirt
>And the more you look her over, the more you see how skinny she is
>wiry muscles show themselves, true
>but so do her ribs, protruding faintly through the skin
>you stare at her for a second

>and the pony, a soon as she notices you looking at her, very quickly averts her eyes

>The chubby man speaks, and you come back to reality

“Hello, sir. Are you mister Anon?”

>It was a question you knew the answer to
>but it took you a few seconds to answer
>you’re still looking at the pony there on your porch
>and you start to realize why she was so much less expensive to purchase
>eventually, though, you do respond

“Uhh… yeah. That’s me.”

>The man nods his head, and with one hand tightly grasping the leash, he reaches back and pulls out a clipboard

“Right, mister Anon. I’ll just need you to sign and turn in this paperwork and give your signature of ownership. The rest of the information we need was already provided by you online.”

>He hands you the clipboard and a pen
>You pick it up, and begin to read
>but your mind still wanders
>and so do your eyes

>the orange pony doesn’t look anywhere but the ground
>neck lowered
>it’s like she’s afraid to look at you

>your gut churns
>something feels off about this.
>off about her
>but even so, you tentatively sign the papers and hand the clipboard back to the man

>He smiles, not showing any teeth
>stretching out his fat cheeks
>and he nods

“Very well. Thank you for your business, sir. She’s yours, now. Enjoy.”

>He passes the leash over to you
>with a bit of hesitation you take it from him
>He gives you a short, parting wave, and turns around, walking back toward his car
>a shiny black sedan
>with a couple of other chubby men sitting in the passenger and back seats

>”Enjoy.”
>That’s what he had said.

>you only look for a few seconds before a chill runs up your spine
>you aren’t even sure exactly why
>you look away, and look back down to the pony on your porch

>the little thing is a not much less than 5 feet tall, including her head
>she hasn’t budged an inch from where she had been standing
>and she’s still not looking at you
>you look down to the leash in your hand

>finally, you shake off the uneasy feelings and speak your first words to her
>”Come on, let’s get you inside…”

>You give a very gentle tug on the leash
>she doesn’t speak a word, but her head lifts up momentarily when you pull the leash
>then, she wordlessly takes a step forward through your front door

>you walk backwards, watching her closely
>she’s staring at the hardwood floor
>her hooves clop noisily on the hard surface
>the way she walks is a little draggy
>the tips of her petite hooves slightly scraping the floor with each step

>and lastly, you notice one more thing about you brand new little pony
>she’s shivering.
>Not the kind of shivering when you’re cold, oh no.
>the kind of shivering someone does when they’re terrified

>For a second, the two of you stand there in silence
>and your thoughts begin to race

>you let go of the leash
>The pony’s ears perk up, for a moment
>but then they droop back down

>the silence is awful
>painfully awkward
>you decide to break it, since this pony is obviously incredibly shy

“Hello, I’m Anon. What’s your name?”

>You speak with a cordial tone
>trying to lighten the mood
>it doesn’t work

>The pony remains silent for a few moments
>she’s staring at the floor
>her hooves are shivering as she stands motionless
>you don’t push her, giving her plenty of time
>and eventually, she answers

“I-I’m Applejack, master.”

>her voice has a familiar country twang to it
>being down south, it fits right in
>but she says her own name with a wince

>however, that’s not the main thing you notice
>did you hear that right?

“Uhh… did you just call me ‘master’?

>you ask her timidly
>not threatening in any way
>or so you thought

>the blonde-maned pony’s eyes grow wide
>she suddenly looks up at you
>and her lip is quivering
>she speaks with a stammer and shortness of breath

“Oh, I-I’m real sorry! I didn’t know you w-wanted to be called something else…”

>she slinks back a little bit
>flinches away from your gaze

>your confusion, however, only magnifies
>so does your worry
>what was the matter with this pony?

>brow furrowed, you address her again

“Yeaah... you can just call me Anon. Here, how about I just get this collar and leash off of you?”

>you take one, cautious step forward
>this pony looks like she’s ready to bolt, the way she’s shying away from you
>you kneel down and gently take hold of the collar
>your fingers gently brush the muscles in her neck
>they are hard as a rock

>but you also can see her ribs from close up
>they aren’t bulging out, but you can definitely see them
>you grimace

“Hey… are you hungry, Applejack? I’ve got plenty of food for you. Fruits, veggies, greens, eggs…”

>you cough to clear your throat
>you fiddle with the buckle on the collar and pull the fabric out of the loop
>once it’s off, you drop it on the floor
>Applejack isn’t responding to you
>so, you ask the question again

“Um, Applejack? Do you want lunch?”

>You scoot back, and stand up
>but you hunch over and put your hands on your knees
>you try to look her in the face, but she’s not looking back at you
>your mind is going to dark places as you are beginning to piece things together

>Finally, she answers
>but it’s not what you anticipated

“I-I’m… I’m allowed to eat all of that?”

>for the first time since she arrived, she looks up at you
>there’s a tiny glimmer in her eyes

>but you must have been giving her a face by accident
>because as soon as she does, she wilts, and turns her head back away from you
>like she’s waiting to be struck

>this is when you start to piece things together
>your mind was rejecting it as a possibility before
>you didn’t want to believe it
>but the emaciated look, her demeanor, the pain and fear in her voice
>it all went far beyond shyness
>really, it was the most obvious thing in the world

>This pony has been abused.

>You are going to have to tread very carefully.
>you don’t want to draw attention to all of those horrible things she must have had to go through
>at least, not yet
>poor thing doesn’t look ready
>so, you simply nod
>and answer her softly

“Yes, Applejack. Of course, all of it. I got it just for you.”

>rather than wait for her, you decide to go to the kitchen
>the way your house is, there are no walls between the living room and the kitchen
>you open up the fridge and take out a carton of eggs, some cheese, a few handfuls of spinach, and a fresh apple
>put them down on the counter right in front of her

“Hey, how about I make you an omelette? Cheese and spinach sound good?”

>Applejack is still rather quiet
>but she looks up at the counter, finally managing to peel her eyes away from the floor
>when she sees the ingredients you’ve laid out in front of her, you once again see the spark in her eyes
>just a tad of life in there
>and the tips of her ears twitch upward
>she inhales

“Uh… uh huh…”

>Good, because you were going to make it anyway
>You don’t waste time getting started.
>you pull out a pan and a bowl
>start heating the stovetop and cracking the eggs into the bowl
>you weren’t exactly a cook, but this was one of those things you could actually make pretty well
>lots of burnt eggs along the way to mastery, though
>you’re going to try extra hard today to make the best dish you can

>you look over to her and realize that she’s sitting down on the floor, now
>before, she was just standing there
>bracing herself
>you frown at her sympathetically and point to the living room couch

“Hey, you can sit down on the couch and wait if you want, Applejack. Go ahead and make yourself feel at home!”

>you talk loudly over the sizzling in the pan
>checking the pan briefly before watching her
>Applejack hears you, and looks over at the sofa
>her emerald eyes widen, and her jaw falls
>she glances over at you, a fearful expression on her face
>but you just smile at her
>and point at the couch again

“Go on, it’s ok!”
>Applejack once again looks over at you
>she’s still very tense
>but her expression, slowly, begins to relax
>eventually, she slinks over to the sofa
>and gingerly steps on, sitting down

>a few minutes pass, and it’s all done
>and it’s a masterpiece
>you’re so glad you’re able to cook something so good for her
>poor thing looks like she hasn’t had something like this in…
>maybe ever.

>you put her plate down on one end of the table and sit down on the other side

“Alright, it’s done! Come on and eat up. I think you’ll like it, Applejack.”

>you look over the counter, the only thing separating the living room from the kitchen
>you see her still sitting there
>shoulders up straight, not relaxing in the slightest
>but when she hears her name, she seems to automatically get up
>and she walks over to the table with that same drag in her hooves
>but she does what you say like it’s an order

>steady now
>you’re going to take your time with her
>it’s only just beginning

...

>Applejack looks at you warily before she sits down
>with a wince
>you notice, and it makes you raise your eyebrows
>you put the plate with the omelette down in front of her, and a fork
>you don’t know if she uses those things, what with hooves and all
>but you’ll cover all your bases
>not used to this pony stuff yet

>you sit down in the seat beside her
>you have a cup of yogurt to eat so that things aren’t as awkward
>so that you aren’t just watching her eat

>Applejack stares down at the plate
>her body is still shivering
>she looks like she’s in a trance, under some kind of spell
>you point at the plate

“Go ahead, hon. You must be hungry. Right?”

>Applejack seems like she refuses to look at you in the eye
>but she, with a little hesitation, responds in the affirmative

“Yes… I am, m-mmaster, I mean Anon! Anon….”

>she swiftly corrects herself
>she must have suddenly remembered that you wanted her to call you by your name
>Tears spring to her eyes
>she freezes

>you see her beginning to panic
>and you’re getting an idea of just how bad her past situation was
>you try to dispel her fears as best as you can

“Hold on, hold on, Applejack! It’s alright, I’m not mad at you! Ok? I promise, it’s no big deal!”

>Applejack takes a hard, shaky breath
>in and out
>a tear falls down onto the table
>she stammers

“I-I’m-m sorry…”

“That’s alright, hon. Now, please, just… eat. Ok?”

>Applejack nods
>she sniffles, and slowly, she bends her head down
>she takes a mouthful from on end, chews it quietly, and swallows
>then, she looks over at you again
>like she’s seeking approval for the next bite

>you feel her sad, fearful gaze as she stares at you
>distrustingly
>you smile gently
>open up your yogurt cup
>point at the omelette with your nose

“Go on!”

>Applejack gulps, and turns back to her plate
>but then, she does something that surprises you
>she eats much, MUCH more quickly
>not ravenously, but close to it

>your hand freezes around your yogurt spoon watching her
>she’s breathing heavily as she eats
>within thirty seconds, the whole thing is gone
>Applejack swallows her last bite, and her ears fold back

>you barely pay any attention to your spoon as you eat your yogurt
>Applejack stares at her empty plate
>screw it
>you set your cup down
>you weren’t hungry anyway

“Sooo, Applejack… how about I show you your room?”

>you get up from your seat
>walk over to her
>she finally follows you with her eyes
>you gesture for her to get up

“Don’t worry, I’ll get your plate. Come on, follow me…”

>Applejack is predictably slow at first
>but she nods her head silently and begins to slide out of her chair

>this time, though, you pay close attention to her face
>and she winces again
>you once again see some tears come up in her eyes
>she sets her hooves down at a weird angle
>like she’s angling herself away from you

>the alarm bells go off in your head
>something is very wrong
>you bite your lip
>hold up your hand

“Uhh… hold up.”

>Applejack sucks in air through her nostrils
>tenses up every muscle in her body
>her eyes seem to pop out of her head for a moment
>she looks at the floor by your feet

“Applejack… turn around.”

>Applejack’s jaw falls
>and you hear a sob leave her
>then, she does something that she hasn’t done in a while
>she looks at you
>right at you, if only for a moment

>but she does what you say
>bows her head, and turns around with a sob

>when you see it, you bring a hand to your mouth
>she’s trying to cover it with her tail, but it’s futile

>all up and down her legs and rear, you see numerous, violet-red stripes
>they stretch across horizontally
>and there’s too many of them to count

>all you can do is stare in shock
>And the pony in front of you just quietly sobs

>You aren’t sure what to do next

>Applejack looks over her shoulder
>tears are collecting on her chin and falling to the floor
>now that she can’t hide it, she is expressing her pain more openly
>and her obvious embarrassment

“I-I’m… I’m a good pony, Anon, I promise I don’t, I-I won’t give you any trouble… I swear!”

>As she continues talking, you begin to recall when your elementary school class talked about black slavery in the 1800s
>something that sticks out in your mind as you realize what Applejack must believe you are thinking right now
>when a potential buyer saw evidence of numerous whip scars, it was a sign that the slave was rebellious
>it, in turn, decreased their valuation on the market
>made them into a liability

>your heart breaks as Applejack looks at you pleadingly

“I’ll a-always do what you say, Anon! I’ll obey you…”

>that’s it
>you can’t bear to hear any more
>you hold up your hand to gesture for her to stop
>she does, with a whimper
>lowering her ears and head

>you take a long, deep breath

“Applejack, listen to me, hon. Whatever your old “master” did to you… I ain’t him. I will never, ever be him. Do you understand?”

>you do your best to keep your voice under control
>you don’t want to scare her
>but under the surface, you are furious
>those lines, those scars
>they are recent, and terrible
>the skin has even been abraded enough to where there are patches that are shiny
>where the skin’s surface isn’t there anymore

>Applejack is crying openly, now
>she responds, almost automatically

“Yes, Anon!”

>but you can hear in her tone of voice, the fear
>and you get the sense that she wasn’t fully processing what you just said
>like all she heard was “do you understand”
>and she said yes out of fear of further punishment
>you cringe

>Applejack flinches when you step toward her
>but her eyes grow wide when you get down on your knees
>you do decide, however, to use her apparent will to obey you to your advantage
>and give her a soft-spoken command

“Please, turn around, Applejack. Turn around and look at me.”

…

>thankfully, she lowers her tail, and turns herself around
>she wavers at looking up at you, but she eventually does do what you ask
>her eyes glisten, a tear tracing a line through the film of dust and dirt on her face
>you stay kneeling
>and very carefully, you extend your hands toward her
>she gasps when you place them below her jaw, and gently lift her face

“I will never, ever do what he did to you. What I just said is the honest truth, hon. Whatever horrible things he did to you, that’s all in the past. I’m not going to be like him.”

>She looks intently at you
>with those massive, expressive green irises
>you could almost lose yourself in them
>you blink rapidly for a moment, collecting yourself

“Tell me if you understand, Applejack.”

>Applejack’s face is frozen
>a tear from her cheek drips onto your wrist
>Her mouth is slightly agape
>and it’s clear to you that she’s truly processing what you just told her, this time

>faintly, she nods her head
>you can feel her warm exhale on your wrists
>releasing air she had been holding inside of her this whole time

>it’s the first sign of her relaxing, even slightly, since you got her here
>you smile at her
>you hope it comes across as warm and welcoming

>Applejack doesn’t smile back, but she doesn’t avert her eyes from you, either
>like she has been all those times before
>you can only hope that it isn’t just because you TOLD her to look at you
>Either way, there is new business that you need to attend to

>and she isn’t going to enjoy it.

>you pull your hands away from her and slowly get up
>Applejack’s head falls a little now that your hands aren’t propping it up
>you really don’t want to say what you’re about to say
>but after seeing those marks on her rear and legs, you can’t put it off
>You bite your lip

“Alright. Now, Applejack… those marks are bad, hon. And I don’t want to put you through even more pain, but… we gotta clean those cuts.”

…

>You wince for Applejack’s sake
>this won’t be pleasant for her

>what you just said takes a moment to sink in
>but once it does, the orange pony’s head shoots up
>she fixes you with those huge, glistening eyes once more
>breathes shallowly through her open mouth

>you can clearly see the fear making a resurgence on her features
>Her back hooves are shaking a little bit, too
>she’s clearly still in a good deal of pain
>but with a shuddering sigh, she lowers her head at you
>gives a labored nod of her head
>and once more, she seems calm

“Y-yes, Anon.”

>she sniffs
>wipes a tear
>but she also seems resigned to it all

>that’s about as good of a reaction as you could hope for
>so, you’ll get this over with now
>you wave at her, motioning for her to follow you down the hallway

“Alright. Let’s get you to the bathtub. Follow me…”

----

>Applejack is standing stock still in the doorway while you search the bathroom cabinet
>sorting through the crap, you withdraw a fresh new bar of soap, still in the cardboard box
>it’s nothing fancy, but it will get the job done
>you don’t have any of that fancy antibiotic cream or anything
>there’s also a small bottle of rubbing alcohol down there, but you aren’t going to touch that
>you don’t want Applejack’s screams of agony to be heard around the neighborhood
>sure, you use it sometimes on the job when the blade of a shovel or something cuts your hands, but not for something as widespread as this
>poor thing wouldn’t be able to take it.

>you pop the bar of cream white soap from the box and turn on the water faucet
>you run your hand beneath it until it is a comfortable lukewarm temperature
>then, you motion to Applejack again

“Come on, hon. I’ll help you into the tub.”

>Applejack swallows, and slinks into the bathroom with her tail pressed tightly against her leg
>she looks scared, but nothing like the terror that was on her face before
>when she gets close enough, you reach under her front legs, and gently lift her up

>holy COW, she’s heavier than you thought she would be
>thankfully, you’re used to lifting heavy bags of sand and hauling wheelbarrows filled with mulch and gravel
>you set her down very carefully into the tub, and make sure she can stand on all four legs before letting go
>you face her rear and hind legs toward the faucet
>water laps up against the fetlocks of her back hooves
>Applejack’s breathing hard, but she’s not resisting you

>you wince again when you see the marks
>there are so many of them
>some of the cuts are deeper than others
>and it also doesn’t help that they’re in such a, well, embarrassing area
>the wounds never appear to have been cleaned, as you expected
>they’re dried out a little, but bits of dirt and grime are visible as well
>honestly, her whole body could use a good bath
>but you have to get this sorted first
>have to give everything a thorough rinse with cool water until it’s moist and able to be cleaned

>thankfully, you have one of those detachable shower handles with a hose, the kind you can use to wash things up close
>hopefully that will speed things up a little

“Ok Applejack, are you ready? I’m going to turn on the showerhead.”

>Applejack gasps lightly
>she looks over her shoulder
>takes a long look at the showerhead in your hand
>like she was trying to verify that you really WERE going to do what you said you were doing
>when she sees it, she swallows, and turns back around

>She nods her head, and you see her flick her tail away completely
>keeping it off to the side
>She also raises one of her front legs, and braces herself against the opposite wall with it

“Y-Yeah. I’m ready, Anon.”

>It’s only just occurring to you now, however, how vulnerable Applejack is right now
>you know this has to feel awkward for her
>after all, you can kind of see everything right now
>with a normal animal, you wouldn’t think anything of it
>not even with a normal horse, or a pony
>but a pony that can talk?
>That was different
>certainly more different than you were hoping it would feel.

>you push it out of your mind, however, when you realize that you have kept Applejack waiting for nearly ten extra seconds
>so, you jerk the shower diverter on and point it at the bathtub wall
>after all, you don’t want to startle her with a sudden rush of cool water
>you want this to be as comfortable for her as you can make it

>the water shoots out with a gurgle and a hiss
>Just from that sound alone, she jumps a little
>but she settles back down quick, exhaling sharply

>you start with her right side, working from top to bottom
>that way, everything will all flow down hill, so to speak
>but when the lukewarm jets of water make contact with her damaged skin, Applejack winces audibly
>she bends her bracing leg a little, closing her eyes
>but she isn’t giving you any trouble as you work the water down slowly, watching some of the dirt and grime go down the drain
>you are honestly appalled by how dark the water is beginning to look
>Applejack may very well get an infection if you aren’t thorough enough

>you go over the whole right side three times before switching to the other side
>this time, Applejack’s legs and rear tense up, and she hisses from between clenched teeth
>the water pressure must be a little high
>but with how scabbed over some of these marks are, and how much dirt seems to be pressed deeply in, you have to have it that way

>all the while, you are making a good effort to avoid the region directly below her tail
>if anything, you have to get that part dead last, and only if she lets you
>and only if you can stomach it

>once the regions are rinsed well, you can see the skin beginning to moisten and the marks getting a little bit brighter in color
>the wounds are more open, now, but that also means they’re going to hurt more, too
>but that’s unavoidable

>you reach down to the floor of the tub, and pick up the bar of now-lathered soap that you let sit in the pooling water, and grab a washcloth from a hook up on the wall
>now it’s time for the even less pleasant part of this whole debacle
>it’s not rubbing alcohol, but you know that this is still going to sting a lot
>but it has to be done

>you lean your head forward

“Alright, Applejack. I gotta use the soap, now. You ready?”

...

>Applejack shivers
>she turns her head, and her eyes lock onto the bar of soap
>she hesitates, but her head nods again

“Yes, I-I’m ready Anon.”

>then, she lifts up her other hoof, and presses that one against the wall, too
>she hides her head in between her hooves, bracing herself
>you wipe the bar of soap onto the washcloth, and give it a thorough covering layer
>and then, not making her wait any longer, you start again from the top, pressing the soapy cloth deeply into the grooves of each mark

“Ah… Ahh, ah! Ow...”

>Applejack winces, and a shiver travels up her spine
>She gasps and vocalizes softly into her hooves, but the hard walls echo it around the room
>you have to ignore it
>this is for the best
>you are very methodical, making sure you trace every mark you see
>the suds are turning darker in color, too

>Applejack is still holding on, but you can hear her crying softly
>her back hooves sometimes slosh the water when she raises and lowers them, trying to cope with the intense stinging pain
>you once again, however, stay away from the place under her tail and between her legs
>move past it, and slowly progress down her leg
>until the whole surface of her right buttock and thigh is covered in suds
>then, you rinse it all out with lukewarm water once again

>a tear or two mixes in with the water in the tub as Applejack holds in sobs
>the poor thing is only halfway done, too
>you rinse out the cloth twice with water, and reapply the soap
>then, you begin working on the other side

“Ah! Ow, ow, ahh!”

>this time, Applejack is louder than before
>she bends both of her front hooves, like she’s trying to pull her rear end away from you
>you continue cleaning, however, which draws a sob from her throat

>you grimace
>lowering your voice, you speak with a tone of gentle understanding

“It’s gonna be ok, Applejack. Just stay strong, stay still, you can do it…”

>still vocalizing, she gives a small stamp of her left rear hoof
>splashing the water a bit
>trying to do something to help distract herself
>but hearing what you said, she unbends her front legs, and obediently moves back to where she was before
>she mutters out a nearly-whispered apology

“S-s-sorry, Anon…”

“That’s ok. I’m working as fast as I can, hon.”

>It will be over soon.

...

>You do eventually make it all the way down her leg
>Applejack is trying so hard to stay still, but her legs are shivering and shaking constantly
>but when you start to rinse it all off, she begins to breathe a little easier
>and her muscles relax
>welcoming the cooling jets of water washing over the constant burn of stinging soap

>the long slashes across her rump and legs are a different color than they were
>the water finally lost its grayish brown color as it ran down her legs
>you still grimace when you take a long look at the damage
>but at least it can now heal properly, with some heavy bandages and gauze tape
>your work, at least on this part of her body, is finally done
>you smile

“Alright, Applejack. That’s the end of that, ok? You did great.”

>Applejack nods faintly, but keeps her face hidden in between her hooves, which remain propped up against the wall
>you leave the showerhead running, angling it down
>you rinse off the washcloth again, and reapply the soap for a third time
>business hasn’t concluded just yet, but at least the worst part is finally done...

“A...An-non?”

>suddenly, you hear Applejack’s voice peep out, that soft country twang of hers coming through once again
>You freeze, holding the washcloth in your hand
>well, that was unexpected
>the first time she’s actually initiated anything with you
>hopefully, this is because she’s starting to trust you, even just a little bit

>she also seems aware of the fact that she’s never addressed you before now, too
>her voice cracks with timidity, like she’s expecting you to rebuke her for addressing you first
>the thought that she would be so scared of something as simple as that...
>it honestly makes you furious on the inside
>but you keep your cool
>you’re going to make sure that she knows that initiating conversation is perfectly ok
>so, you reply, very casually

“Yes, Applejack? Is everything alright?”

>Applejack sniffs through clogged nostrils
>she must have a runny nose after all that crying
>the poor thing

>she stammers out what she says next
>this time, she doesn’t even look over her shoulder
>but you can still see part of her face
>and it’s gone from orange to furious, scarlet red
>and the corners of her lips are curled downward in a fearful frown
>she keeps her position, like she isn’t daring to budge unless you tell her it’s ok, first

“Are you… are you gonna w-wash me… down there, too?”

>Oh shit.

…

>firstly, you take note of the nervousness in her voice
>it’s very clear that she isn’t asking because she actually WANTS you to
>and to be honest, you were considering not doing it
>she may be a pony, but she’s not some mindless animal

>but at the same time, you know that if it were you bathing yourself, you would want that spot cleaned, too
>hell, ESPECIALLY that spot
>but you also don’t want her to feel like you’re violating her
>so, you sigh, and ask her the big question

“Well… be honest with me, Applejack. Would you be ok with it?”

>you wait for a reply
>Applejack is thinking it through
>glancing in your direction
>you get the sense that she’s feeling you out
>err, so to speak
>trying to figure out if she trusts you enough
>well, she understandably has issues with that, even though you’ve been nothing but nice to her
>you wouldn’t blame her if she said no

>and come to think of it, you kind of want her to say no…

“I… I am.”

>aaand that was not the answer you were expecting
>you can practically feel the static in the air with how awkward the situation just got
>you close your eyes, bite your lips
>And when you open them, her nethers are right there

>Applejack says no more
>she’s closing her eyes, too
>but you notice, with a strange, bubbling feeling building in your stomach, that she seems to extend her bracing legs even more
>pushes her rear out, and lowers her front
>and spreads her legs wider

>you grip the soapy washcloth in your hand a little tighter
>she’s actually trying to make it easier for you
>you have to say, you never expected to be in a situation like this with her
>but here you are
>you don’t want to do this, really

>but at the same time, you find yourself… flattered
>in a really weird way
>only a minute before, she was afraid you were going to hit her for just asking a question
>and now, she trusts you this much?
>quite a huge switch

“Well… if you say so. Just… lemme know if you need me to stop. At any time. Ok?

>Applejack nods

“Yes, Anon. I, I understand.”

>good
>as long as she understands that, you’re just okay enough with this whole thing to do it
>you take a moment to overcome your hesitation
>remind yourself that she’s ok with this
>and that it needs to be done
>it needs to be done...

>You bunch up the washcloth and pinch it between your four fingers
>angle the softest part outward
>and at last, you press it firmly onto the folds of her most private place

>you feel her do a little jolt when you make contact
>but she quickly relaxes
>not hearing a demand for you to stop, you begin to rub the washcloth downward
>pressing down firmly enough to actually do some good
>you don’t scrub back and forth, but rather, you trace a single vertical line in the same direction
>you feel the muscles tensing and contracting beneath your fingers, even through the cloth
>Applejack is breathing hard through her nose
>but she’s not telling you to stop

>so you continue
>pushing away… well, any thoughts whatsoever about what you’re actually doing right now
>you cringe when you see the suds, like before, turning darker in color
>it really is more than a little gross, but you feel terrible for Applejack
>having such a part of her body be dirty can’t be comfortable
>listening to her carefully, making sure you aren’t doing anything painful, you begin to focus your attentions on the right fold
>through a thick layer of washcloth, you trace down the outer lip
>that’s when you hear Applejack gasp

“Ah…”

>your hand stops dead in its tracks

“You alright, hon?”

...

>Applejack’s ribs rise and fall rapidly
>she’s trying to keep her breathing under control
>trying to keep quiet while you do your work
>she nods

“Y-yes, Anon, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s real sensitive.”

>you frown
>the air around you feels charged
>so tense

“Like… in a painful way, orr…”

>She shakes her head, this time
>and exhales sharply

“N-no, the… other way...”

>Oh.

“Oh.”

>Applejack’s back shivers, but she remains exactly where she is
>meanwhile, you’re not sure what to do, now
>you were kind of hoping that this would be one of those unpleasant things that you do and get over with, and hopefully forget about
>I mean, you’re glad she’s not in pain and all
>but you’d almost prefer a little more of that, over…
>fuck, this is so awkward.
>Fuck.

“So… do you want me to stop, or…”

>Applejack sighs
>her tail twitches
>then, she shakes her head

“No, no… no, Anon. It’s ok.”

>well, at least she doesn’t sound TOO enthusiastic
>after all, you need to clean her, not… stimulate her.
>damn, you should’ve just said no

“If you’re sure, Applejack… I’m gonna keep going, ok?”

>she says nothing
>whatever
>you push your thoughts aside once more and, with the same diligence as before, you finish scrubbing the right side
>Applejack fortunately doesn’t seem to make much noise as you trace down the left side of her nethers
>scrubbing it kind of like how you would wipe the dust from a guitar string
>luckily, your efforts do not seem to be pointless
>she’s definitely getting cleaner

>now, for the final part
>you bunch up the washcloth once again, and flatten your fingers inside of it
>and, swallowing, you begin to clean the inner folds
>it’s the last part, thank God
>you feel like a total perve, but you don’t linger long

>but Applejack is feeling it, for sure
>her right rear leg twitches, sloshing in the water some more
>she gives a gasp, and for just a short moment, her vocal chords crack
>as soon as that happens, it’s out with your hand

>once you pull it away, you swear that you can see her rump move back
>jutting out even more, like it’s following the direction of your hand
>but she pulls it back a second later

>you pick up the showerhead again, which has been idly shooting water all over the floor of the bathtub
>and you rinse the whole spot, making sure that every single sud is washed away

>as soon as the water hits, though, Applejack makes the loudest sound yet
>like a hiccup, but sharper
>you decide that you aren’t going to ask

>but then, something happens that draws your full attention
>at the bottom of her nethers, right at the tip of her vagina, a pinkish red spot suddenly pops out
>goes back in
>then pops back out again

>it keeps doing this, over and over again
>you aren’t sure what to make of it
>but it’s not like you’re going to ask your new pony what it is, either
>”Hey, what’s wrong with your vagina?”
>Jesus H. Christ…

>once you stop rinsing her, however, it stops
>and Applejack’s whole body does a little lurch forward
>a harsh exhale leaves her, a pent up breath that hadn’t been released until now

>and so concludes the most awkward situation you have ever been in all your life
>both for you and, probably at least, for Applejack
>you give the washcloth and extra thorough rinse, this time before you reapply the soap
>you speak softly to Applejack, but still loudly enough to be audible over the background hiss of water

“Alright, hon, we’re done with that. Now, I know you’re probably sick of standing there so long, but I’m just gonna get the whole rest of you now, ok?”

>Applejack huffs and puffs
>you notice out of the corner of your eye, that the thing pop in and out of her mare folds, again
>but she answers you right away

>Yes, yes An-non, I… I’ll stay right here, Anon.”

>good, you think
>she’s still cooperating, just like she always has been
>even though you just basically fondled her
>glad she’s so understanding
>but you can’t help but give a little chuckle when you realize that she’s still in the same, bent over position
>you clear your throat

“Um, hey Applejack… you can just stand up regular, now, hon.”

>her reaction is a little bit priceless
>she gasps, redness on her face
>starts to scramble
>it’s a little difficult to do in a slippery tub, but she manages to put her front hooves back down and bring her back legs together
>she starts to stutter, retracing her words

“Oh, I uh… yes, Anon, yes, I-I’m just… just gimme just a s… sorry, Anon…”

“That’s alright, hon. Now, just do what you’ve been doing, and let me work. You’re going to be clean as a whistle by the time I’m done!”

>with a little blush on her face, she simply nods wordlessly
>she gives a little smile, even though it fades shortly afterward

>it’s the happiest expression you’ve ever seen her make.

>with determination, and breathing a sigh of relief, you get to work.

…

>it still felt a little awkward, you won’t lie
>but bathing the rest of her, after THAT, felt like nothing
>when you finally finish rinsing her off, her orange coat looks a lot like it did in the picture
>bright, smooth, and soft

>unfortunately, washing her also reveals some other things
>a mixture of things you hadn’t noticed before, and things that were covered up before
>smaller, shallower scars scattered over her frame, as well as a good number of bruises
>this pony’s former master…
>you’d like to wrap your hands around his neck

>you dry her off, but take care not to touch her rear and thighs
>you don’t want pieces of fabric finding their way into the wounds
>that’s just going to have to drip dry
>you leave her for a moment, and search the bathroom cabinet again
>you find some gauze, but you give a low groan when you realize that it isn’t going to be enough
>you also don’t have any medical tape
>jesus, you probably should have checked that BEFORE you deep cleaned her… everything
>you’re in a bit of a pickle right now
>there’s a pharmacy only a five minute drive away from your house
>but you can’t take Applejack with you
>there’s no way
>you don’t want those scars to be seen in public
>and besides, you aren’t going to let her go anywhere at all while those things aren’t covered up

>but you can’t just leave her here at home, either
>not without supervision, that is…
>or… can you?

>you try to find another way, but it’s starting to become clear
>you’re probably making a huge mistake
>but you can’t see how else you’re going to do this

>you fix Applejack with a serious stare
>she’s not looking directly at you at first, but when she notices you staring at her, she jerks her head sideways to look back at you
>that instant, she folds her ears back
>and she seizes up

>you show her the half-used roll of gauze

“Hey, hon. I just checked the cabinet to get you some dressing for the wounds on you, but… I don’t have what I need.”

>Applejack’s face, steadily, relaxes a bit
>when she hears your tone of voice, you think she realizes that you aren’t cross with her
>jeez, your stare must have been angry looking
>you’ll have to work on that
>ahem

“So… I’m gonna have to go up to the store and get some stuff. It’s only five minutes away. So, Applejack…”

>you point at the placemat below her hooves

“I’m gonna need you to stay put while I’m gone. Ok?”

>Applejack, her face timid and fearful before, suddenly goes blank
>looks at you with this expression of “wait, what?”
>but she glances down at the placemat
>and when she looks back at you, she nods resolutely

“Yes, Anon. I won’t leave this spot, I promise.”

>you hear her enthusiasm
>or… whatever it is
>come to think of it, you honestly don’t doubt her, either
>poor thing probably still thinks you’ll take a belt to her or something if she moves
>but you’ll use her irrational fear to your advantage this time

>you nod back at her, and smile

“Ok, good. Thank you, Applejack. I’ll be back very soon, don’t worry!”

>you wave goodbye, and close the door slowly
>she doesn’t wave back
>but that’s ok.
>you know she’s going to be ok.

…

>your truck is a piece of shit.
>no really, it’s fucking garbage
>the whole back seat section is filled with half-empty bags of organic fertilizer, hardwood mulch, stone fragments, old fast food bags, a toolbox…
>you’re pretty sure Applejack would get an infection just being near this thing
>whatever happens, you made the right call

>you arrive at the pharmacy
>it takes you five minutes by itself just to find the stuff
>damn, gauze is expensive
>so is special first aid tape
>but it’s worth every penny if it means you can help this poor pony out
>fuck it, you get a tube of antibiotic ointment, too
>you really hope it won’t sting
>but you have to keep the region moist
>otherwise, the scars won’t heal as well or as quickly

>you make a beeline to the car once you’ve paid for them
>plastic bag in your hand
>you hop in the driver’s seat and toss the bag in the passenger’s side

>you back up quickly, in a hurry to get home…

>and then, you see a flash of headlights from behind and to the right of you
>which is followed by a thundering CRUNCH of metal
>And your head jerks to the side, before whiplashing back the other direction

>it takes a moment for it to sink in what just happened
>you sit there, hands gripping the wheel
>white knuckled
>and then, once you understand what just occurred, you swear
>loudly

“FUCK! FUCKING, FUCK GOD DAMN IT, SHIT PISS FFFFUCK!”

...


>the police were slow to the scene
>you told the guy driving the other truck that he could have your info, and he could back with you
>it was your fault, after all
>but nooo, he had to get the police

>well, you had looked over to his truck
>and you sighed with relative relief when you realized that it’s a piece of shit, too
>and the damage is quite minor
>at least your payment out of pocket wouldn’t be TOO exorbitant
>you hope
>but your premium is gonna go up, for sure
>damn it, you really wanted to save up some more spending money from your jobs this summer
>but life gives you lemons, and all that shit

>the dent from tonight honestly blends in with the rest of your jalopy
>you’re just glad you can drive home

>you check your watch
>and swear again
>it’s been almost two goddamn hours
>you told her it would take you what, five minutes? Ten minutes there and back?
>this is horrible.

>You rush to the front door, fumbling with the keys
>you just hope Applejack hasn’t thought the worst
>you hope she’s still there…

>you throw the door open and jog inside, heading right for the bathroom with the plastic bag of gauze and cream in your hand

“Applejack! I’m back, hon, I’m back! I’m so sorry...”

>You reach the bathroom door
>you see that it’s still closed
>you turn the knob and slam it open

“Ah! AHH! Ah…”

>and there she is
>lying down on the placemat on the floor
>or, at least, she WAS lying down
>but she jolts awake when the door swings open
>practically jumps in the air, and thumps into the wall of the bathtub behind her
>her sharp, terrified scream echoes around the bathroom
>and it’s soon followed by heavy, labored breathing

>she stares up at you with her pupils wide as saucers
>her ears pin down on her head, and she seems to try and melt into the bathtub wall

>well, now you feel like an idiot
>you had to just crash into the room, didn’t you?
>it’s not like the poor thing wasn’t already scared enough
>you quickly get down on one knee, and hold the bag forward, toward her cowering frame

“Hey, hey, it’s me, Applejack! It’s Anon!”

>you reach into the plastic bag and pull out the gauze, tape, and tube of cream
>you set them down at your feet, right in front of her
>then, you stick the bag in the trash can
>all the while, you’re looking at her
>taking in the fear you see in her eyes
>it’s heartbreaking
>you try to calm her down

“See? I got the stuff. I’m gonna be able to get your marks covered up, now. Applejack?”

>she looks like she’s in a bit of shock
>her eyes are still huge, but at least she’s not heaving as much
>then, as the seconds tick by, you finally see her release the tension in her muscles
>you also see a few tears spill right out of her eyes and plop onto the tile floor

>you keep talking to her, making sure your voice is calm, clear, and soft

“I’m sorry, so sorry I took so long, hon. I just… I got into a car accident. It wasn’t a big one, but I had to wait for the police, and… gosh, I’m so sorry, Applejack.”

>she makes no reply other than a sniffle
>she covers up her face partway with her hoof
>she begins to whisper something, but she closes her mouth before scarcely a syllable gets out

>you lean your head forward

“Applejack? What is it, hon?”

…

>she shivers
>continues to face the wall

“I-I thought… you were mad, c-cuz I was sleeping…”

>she stutters, and squirms uncomfortably
>you shake your head, gritting your teeth together
>your heart aches just hearing that

“Oh, no, no, Applejack! Why would I get angry over something like that? Besides, I’m the one who left you here for two hours… and I’m really sorry I slammed that door open, ok? I know it must have startled you.”

>Applejack finally dares to look at you
>you try to give her a warm smile
>hope to calm her down, make her realize you aren’t going to hurt her

>and, for once, it seems to work
>she lowers her hoof, showing the rest of her tearstained face

>now that she has calmed down, you pick up the gauze, tape, and antibiotic cream
>she looks at your hands warily, but seems to know that whatever it is, it’s going onto her
>god, you really hope this cream doesn’t burn…

“Ok, hon. I’m gonna need you stand up and stay still for me, ok?”

----

>it’s a lot harder to apply all of this stuff than you you thought it would be
>thankfully, the antibiotic cream doesn’t sting when you put it on
>Applejack still braced herself against the wall anyway, though
>she actually seemed a little surprised when she realized that it didn’t hurt when you applied it
>poor girl probably thought you were going to make even more pain for her

>wrapping the gauze around her rump and affixing it on both of her flanks with the tape wasn’t easy, either
>you had to avoid putting gauze over either of her private spots, so you did vertical strips of gauze beside them instead
>once you got down to her legs, it was a lot less awkward, though
>it kind of looks weird once you’re finished
>but hey, it got the job done
>all finished, now
>now, it just needs to heal

>you put away what’s left of the cream, tape, and gauze under the bathroom sink
>then, you scoot yourself around to get a better look at her face, which is hidden between her hooves
>she’s still bracing herself
>you clear your throat

“Ok, Applejack. It’s all done.”

>she lifts up her head, and sighs deeply
>then, this time without you having to remind her, she takes her hooves off the wall
>stands up straight
>you smile

“You did great, hon. Thank you so much for cooperating all this time, even though I know it hurt a lot…”

>she nods her head, and bows it down
>she’s still not looking directly at you, but she does turn her body a little bit
>facing the corner to your right

>it suddenly occurs to you that she never seems to look right at you
>barely a glance every now and then, but that’s it
>unless you tell her to, that is
>you’ll have to work on that later
>for now, you have to tell her a few things
>and you might as well tell her to look at you while you say them

“Hey, look at me for a minute, hon.”

>Applejack’s eyes get bigger for a moment, and her ears twitch
>but, just like every other time you’ve told her to do something, she does it with little hesitation
>you stay kneeling, not wanting to tower over her in a domineering way

“Good. Now, those scars are going to take time to heal, ok? So, I need you not to touch those bandages, be very careful if you want to sit down, and not exert yourself too much, ok? Those bandages need to stay on.”

>you give her the instructions with a level voice
>firmly enough, but there’s no need to “hammer it in”
>she does nothing less than try her best to remember everything you told her
>sure enough, she replies in a grave tone

“Yes, Anon. I understand.”

>you inwardly fist pump
>well, now that’s settled
>this long, horribly awkward cleaning session is over
>and now, you’re gonna help this mare out in any way that you can
>you can’t wait for what you’re going to show her next
>even the thought of the car accident only hours before seems to fade in your mind

>you wave her toward you
>she understands the silent gesture, and approaches you, but stays at a distance

“Ok, Applejack. Let me show you your new room!”

------

>It’s right down the hall
>conveniently close to the bathroom
>it’s not a big room, and not a big bed
>but somehow, you doubt that will be a problem

>Applejack follows you at a short distance, maybe two feet
>so when you open the door to her room, she doesn’t automatically go in
>you have to point inside

“Come on, take a look!”

>Applejack purses her lips together, and nods silently
>she slinks up to you, standing on the other side of the doorway, watching you closely
>jeez, it’s like she’s expecting you to kick her if she fails some kind of test you’re giving her, or something
>you take a step back and give her all the room she needs

>she steps into the doorway
>and freezes

>you look down at her
>the seconds tick by
>and holy cow, she’s still not moving

>eventually, you see her front legs shake
>you’re about to say something, ask her if something is wrong
>you even look in the room with her
>half expecting some horror you weren’t aware of to be residing in the room
>I mean, you haven’t used this room in a while, so…”

“I… have a bed?”

>she asks the question in a mutter
>barely above a whisper
>she chokes on the word “bed”

>your heart flutters in your chest
>god, this hurts...
>you nod

“Yes, Applejack. It’s all yours!”

>she continues to stand there
>and stare
>and stare…
>just… in shock
>She hiccups

“But… I haven’t done anything yet…”

>she sounds so surprised
>and now, you can’t help smiling
>but that smile quickly turns into a grimace
>she’s so shocked that she gets to sleep in a bed…

>thinks she has to “earn” something so basic
>something you take for granted

>something happens to you
>you have an urge to do something that you were hesitant to do before
>Applejack is standing right next to you
>your hand is right there behind her head

>you bite your lip
>tense your whole body, hoping she won’t freak out

“It’s alright, hon.”

>you reach out, and put your hand on her head
>as expected, she tenses up
>gasps
>and her eyes dart over to you for an instant
>but you don’t withdraw your hand

>instead, you slowly brush over her mane with your hand, down the length of her neck
>feel her vertebrae faintly sticking out through her skin
>you wince, but you don’t stop
>you pet her several more times
>and she doesn’t move

>but then, something happens that chills your blood
>you’ll never forget it

“Ohh… I understand, An-non, I… wh-where do you want me?”

>your hand stops mid pet
>this time, you don’t just think it
>it slips out of your mouth in a low whisper

“Oh… oh shit…”

------

>Applejack heard you.
>You feel her muscles twitch under her skin as she angles her ears in your direction
>when you pull your hand away, she turns her head
>a worried look on her face

>you hold up your hands and take a step back
>shaking your head
>you take a deep breath with eyes closed, holding your head in your hands

“Uhh, Applejack… I just… what…”

>somehow, this is the biggest bombshell yet
>even bigger than when you saw the scars across her rear and legs
>does she really mean…

>it gets more unbelievable
>Applejack turns around after a second of hesitation
>you hear her hoofsteps as she rotates around to face you
>then, she speaks

“Oh, I-I understand, m-master Anon, I… the bandages…”

>you hear her take a step forward
>slowly, your eyes open up, but not before you feel something that jerks you to a state of alertness
>something tugs the fabric on your pants, and then, you hear the sound of your zipper being pulled down
>heart stopping, you look down to see Applejack right there, the head of the zipper in her teeth

>you can’t help how your respond
>if you could do a redo, you would
>but your hands, formerly behind your head, fly down
>and sharply, you swat her snout

“GAH! Applejack! No, no!”

>you flinch as soon as your hand connects
>Applejack’s teeth come off of your zipper
>she yips, and her eyes go cross for a brief moment
>you didn’t hit her hard, but when she stumbles back, you know you didn’t have to
>you stand there in shock, reeling back yourself

>Applejack, thanks to the swat to her nose, has fresh new tears welling up in her eyes
>she covers her snout with a hoof
>and looks shamefully down at the ground

“I, I-I’m sssorry, Anon, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I thought… I’ll t-turn around…”

>you can only stare in disbelief when she turns around and raises her tail
>and lowers the front of her body to the floor
>your mouth gapes open, and you start furiously shaking your head
>a loud shout preparing to escape your throat

>Applejack looks over her shoulder, at you
>through her teary eyes

“I can bend over the b-bed, mas--”

“APPLEJACK, STOP!”

-----

>the whole house falls completely silent
>yet, it seems like your command is echoing around the hallway

>Instantly, before another word could get out, Applejack stopped
>and you can see her muscles bulge with tension
>she cringes like she’s just been kicked, and her tail clamps down over her privates
>you stare down at her with your jaw slackened

>there are tears in your eyes when you see her expression
>such fear
>a look that implores you about what she’s done wrong
>You bite your lips and calm yourself down from your outburst

>Applejack is still bent over
>her chin and cheek pressed against the carpet
>she won’t move

>So, you’re going to have to make her.
>it’s for her own good
>keeping your voice level, you address her after almost a minute of silence has passed

“Applejack, hon… stand up. Stand up, and turn around.”

>as usual, you don’t have to tell her twice
>her legs quiver, obviously sore from maintaining such an uncomfortable position
>but she does what you say
>however, you didn’t tell her to look at you
>so, she doesn’t, opting to gaze at the floor

>you don’t even know how to respond
>all you had done was pet her
>shown her some much-needed affection
>you never thought it would have led to this.

>you can tell Applejack is trying valiantly not to break down
>there is a small red spot on her nose where you bopped her
>you almost apologize, but you decide against it at the last second
>it was disturbing how fast she had worked your fly down
>you note, with a grimace, that she has obviously done it before
>you had to stop her right away, and besides, you didn’t actually hurt her
>no blood was dripping out of her nose, thank goodness...

>her soft voice, nearly a whisper, reaches your ears and pulls you out of your thoughts

“Master Anon, I---I’m so sorry, p-please---”

>you can’t hear any more of this
>it’s too much
>you cut her off right away, holding up your hand

“No, no. No, just… just stop, Applejack. Please. I’m not mad, I-I… just… just come here, hon. Come here.”

>you speak with as much softness as possible
>hold out your hand like you have something it it
>beckoning her toward you
>you even get down on one knee

>Applejack looks at you with terror in her eyes
>but despite herself, she takes the first, shivering step in your direction
>blinking rapidly, breathing heavily
>a tear falls like a rock to the floor
>but slowly, she approaches your outstretched hand

>you swallow hard
>there are no words you can think to say right now
>so, you’re going to do something else, instead
>you’re not going to say a word

>Applejack lowers her head in submission, and places it beneath your hand
>and that’s when you make your move

>you lean forward, both arms outstretched
>and then, clasping down tightly, you hug her around her shoulders
>and pull her into you

>the tension you feel in her entire body is unreal
>hard as stone
>you feel her jump in place when your arms wrap around her

“Ahh! Ah, ah…”

>you briefly feel her body jerk backward
>but just for a moment
>then, gradually, you feel her settle more into you
>her warm breath tickles your back, even through your t-shirt
>her head is perched on your shoulder
>then, you move one of your hands up to the top of her head
>and laying it into her silk-like mane you cradle her head

>you press your cheek against the side of her neck
>it feels so much like a normal horse
>you close your eyes, and at last, words make their way onto your tongue
>And then, hugging her tighter, you say them
>words that you never would have dreamed you would ever say, to anyone

“I’m not going to rape you.”

>you grasp the hairs of her mane in between your fingers
>and you dare to pet her head again
>her coat still smells like fresh soap from your bath
>you hold her close, and begin to rock her from side to side

>Applejack sniffles, and you feel her chest heave
>you continue stroking her mane, and repeat yourself in whispers
>she slowly starts to relax, and you feel just the slightest give in the skin of her neck

“I’m not going to rape you, alright? I’m not going to rape you. I’m…”

>then, it happens
>a sob
>you feel it wrack her body in your hold
>then another
>a hot teardrop falls onto your back, and seeps through the fabric of your shirt
>and her body, formerly tense as a coiled spring, begins to melt into your arms

>suddenly, you feel her weight pressing against you
>she goes limp, and several sobs escape her
>she’s pushing you backward, but you brace yourself on one knee and bear her weight
>in between cries, she tried to get something out

“I… I-I… I…”

>then, it all breaks loose
>she loses it, completely
>what can only be described as a broken wail leaves her throat
>her howls echo up and down the hallway
>tortured cries, the result of so much anguish for so long, come flooding out

>you don’t say a word.
>you press yourself deeper into her body, and keep her secure
>and her cries go on and on.

-------

>you sit in your chair
>rotating a half empty bottle of beer in your hands
>a small lamp is the only thing lighting the room

>it’s getting late, but you can’t sleep
>Applejack, on the other hand, had no trouble
>the poor pony had exhausted herself from crying so hard, for so long
>you don’t even know if she really felt it when you picked her up and tucked her into her new bed
>you were very careful to lay her on her side, and make sure that her damaged rear was not taking any of her weight
>and that was that.

>You had to go to work tomorrow.
>Not only that, but your line of work meant that you had to get up early
>you had to meet with your other four employees before you all drove to the work site
>you also had to go up the stone sales center and get another pallet of stone because you were close to running out
>it was a big patio, after all
>and you were already running behind
>you were hoping that your new pony would be able to pitch in some help
>you’d show her the ropes, give her some simpler jobs to start out
>make sure she knew what she was doing
>but now…

>You couldn’t take her up to the work site in this condition
>Her hindquarters were whipped to hell, her body was thin, her mind…
>well, that was in the worst shape of all.
>but could you possibly leave her here? All alone, for hours?
>you almost think you should admit her to a hospital
>but you really won’t have much money to spare until you can finish this patio job
>and with the car accident, you know your premium is going to increase a ton

>you don’t know what to do.
>this had been such a bad idea…
>no. No it hadn’t.
>Applejack had been through hell before she came to you
>you saved her
>you saved her life.

>and you know, it’s starting to occur to you
>you’d left her in the same place for two hours
>on a damn bathmat
>and she hadn’t moved
>she hadn’t done anything to your house
>in fact, she’d done exactly what you said
>which only makes sense…

>you don’t want to do it, but you’re going to have to wake her up early
>she needs sleep, but you don’t want her to wake up and find you totally gone
>you thought of leaving a note, but that wouldn’t be ideal

>you drain the rest of your beer and get up
>it’s getting late, and maybe you’ll be able to fall asleep eventually
>you don’t take sleeping pills, because they make it almost impossible to get up the next morning

>two hours later, after tossing and turning and nearly throwing your blanket right off the bed, you finally drift to sleep.

-----

>the beep of your alarm rips you out of your slumber
>with a sharp breath, you roll over and slap the top of the clock, and the beeping ceases

>you actually look at the clock, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you still had 30 minutes left or something
>but you don’t
>you groan

>back to the old grind.

>you roll out of bed and walk groggily to the bathroom
>yawning loudly
>the light stings your eyes when you flip the switch
>as usual, you splash some cold water on your face
>it wakes you up
>at least, sort of
>then, you leave the light on and enter the hallway again
>you’re going to whip up some breakfast...

>you know, you really might have forgotten
>you were so groggy that you actually may have forgotten about the pony you had put to bed last night
>but lucky for you, when you exit the bathroom, she makes it impossible

>she’s standing right there, at the other end of the hall
>looking right at you
>the light coming out of the bathroom reflecting off of her huge, emerald green eyes

>you freeze in place
>practically stop mid yawn
>she points her nose at the floor, but angles her eyes up at you

“G-good morning, master Anon.”

------

>The two of you meet eyes, and stare for a long while
>all you can really see well at first was the light gleaming off of her eyes
>but the rest of her comes into the picture as your eyes adjust to the dark

>you tilt your head in surprise

“Oh. Well, hey. You’re… already up.”

>you rub your eyes and lean against the wall
>Applejack nods her head, and stands up straighter

“Yes, Master Anon. The sun was just starting to go up.”

>she almost sounds like a soldier
>talking to her superior officer, or something
>you furrow your eyebrows and chuckle under your breath
>and yawn again

“Oh. So, is that when you, you know, normally get up?”

>It’s a basic question
>you didn’t intend to communicate anything other than what you asked
>but you underestimate her nerves

>She lowers her head, and her posture slumps
>then, she asks you a question with a significantly diminished tone

“I’m sorry, di-id you want me up earlier? I haven’t done any work yet, I’m s…”

>She trails off
>and suddenly, it’s back to yesterday’s grind
>you take your leaning arm off of the wall, and shake your head at her

“No, no, Applejack. Relax, ok? Take a deep breath.”

>As usual, she takes your request as a demand
>breathes in deeply, and exhales deeply
>stops herself mid-sentence
>when it appears she has calmed down, you continue

“Well, if I’m honest, Applejack, I was going to let you sleep as long as you wanted this morning. I have to go to work early in the morning, and I was going to leave you a note letting you know where I was and letting you know what food I have for you to eat.”

>Applejack listens to you intently
>but as you talk, you can see one of her eyebrows rising up in confusion
>she looks down at your feet, appearing to contemplate what you’ve just said

“Oh, uh… yes, Anon. But-”

>she seizes up a bit
>you notice her look up at you as soon as the last word leaves her lips
>like she’s expecting you to rebuke her for talking back
>well, you’re going to clear that up right now

“Go on, hon, what is it?”

>Applejack seems to relax at your gentle tone
>she licks her lips
>and takes a step back

“I just… what work do you want me to do, Anon?”

>well, this is getting a little bit complicated
>you were planning on telling her yesterday why she was here
>why you purchased her in the first place
>but the whole everything yesterday had been such a clusterfuck you never got the chance.
>Now, you had to explain it all early in the morning
>damn, this week isn’t starting off well

“Ehh, it’s… a little complicated right now, hon. Don’t worry, I’ll have work for you to do, I will, it’s just… I can’t let you work in this state. Your rear end needs to heal, and you need to gain some weight back before I can let you work with me and my team.”

>You watch her face closely
>every word you say, for some reason, seems to be worrying her more
>she stammers, falls silent, but then begins to say something back in reply

“I can work, Master, I can work. I can pull, I can carry, I can push…”

“I’m sure you can, Applejack. But now, you need to get rest. There is no way you’re going to be working while those cuts are still healing. This stuff is good, hard work, and I’m not having you get injured or having your cuts start weeping again. Ok?”

>You wait for her typical “Yes, Anon, master sir your highness”
>but surprisingly, this time, there’s quite the delay
>she’s silently pondering everything to herself

>she licks her lips again, and her brow forms a V shape in between her eyes

“I-I… Anon, I…”

>ok, you really don’t have time for this
>if she’s going to be so obedient, you’re going to just have to keep on taking advantage of it when it’s for her own good

“No, Applejack. Stop. There’s no discussion here. What I said is final, and I don’t want to hear any more. Ok?”

>wow, you sounded a little harsh
>but you have to get going
>you haven’t even gotten your coffee going, yet…

>The expression Applejack makes is a pretty drastic change
>she communicates with her eyes low to the ground that she knows she’s overstepped her bounds a bit
>Shrinks back
>but she nods, and says no more on the matter.

“Yes, Anon.”

-----

>Applejack is quiet for the next ten minutes
>she gingerly sits down at the table on a pillow-padded chair as you sip your coffee, absentmindedly eating your eggs
>she eats the breakfast you’ve laid out in front of her, but very slowly
>she looks around the dimly lit room
>you glance back and forth between your steaming mug, the clock on the wall, and the pony across the table from you

>there’s a dejected look on her face
>a certain cloudiness in the whites of her eyes
>you poke the yolk of one of your eggs and watch it run out over the plate, but you don’t eat
>watching her is making you lose your appetite

“Hey, Applejack. You ok, hon?”

>the lack of delay when she nods her head at you is surprising
>she bites her lip, and stands back on her hooves

“Yes, A-Anon, I’m fine. I’m ok.”

>her posture changes
>shoulders are broader, head held higher
>legs straight
>like you’ve snapped her out of something

>but then it hits you
>she’s still trying to get you to change your mind
>put on the air that she’s ready to work.
>She dare not ask you again, you know
>but she’s a smart girl.

>still, you can’t.
>even though, for whatever reason, it’s killing her spirits
>the pony needs rest and rejuvenation
>and the injuries she’s sustained don’t mix with dirt, sand, and stone dust
>you shake your head

“Look, hon. I know you said you want to work, and I’m very happy to see you eager. The team and I could really use the help. But you can not, I repeat, can NOT work yet. I’m sorry, but that’s what has to happen. Ok, Applejack?”

>She folds her ears back, and her shoulders slump
>every new word makes her shrink down even more
>but she nods anyway

“Yes, Master Anon. I… so I will work, though?”

>you puff air through your nostrils in a slight laugh
>you drop your fork onto the plate
>and give a good natured roll of your eyes, smiling

“Yees, Applejack. I promise. I promise you’ll have plenty of work to do once you’ve healed up and you don’t look as skinny. And you can start by eating your breakfast now, ok? I mean, is everything on your plate alright?”

>you honestly aren’t mad
>just perplexed, and maybe a bit amused
>well, you don’t have to worry about work ethic whatsoever
>more than can be said than for a couple of your own guys
>you lean your head in your hand

>Applejack pauses and eyes her plate
>then she takes a little mouthful of her scrambled eggs
>she chews, swallows, and nods her head

“It’s good, Anon. Thank you.”

“Good. I’m glad. I made sure there weren’t any shells in it.”

>that gets a tiny smile out of her
>it disappears right away, but you notice
>and then, you smile

>another minute passes, and now you’re starting to think
>she wants to work, that much is true
>and you are going to have to leave her here alone for at least this week
>and it’s not like there’s an abundance of things to do
>and actually, even though you live here, when you are sick yourself, you get a little stir crazy, too.

>alright, Applejack. You win… sort of.
>you sigh, take the last bite of your breakfast, and get up
>Applejack flinches, and stares up at you now

>she watches you nervously as you open the drawer of your small end table
>a low stammer escapes her

“M-Master Anon?”

>you pull out a piece of paper, a pen, and tap your chin
>then, you begin to write

“Ok, Applejack. You may not be able to work with me now, but I’m going to write a list of things for you to do, right here at home. Ok?”

…

>paying close attention to her facial expression, you notice her ears perk up and angle towards you with intrigue
>her nervous frown fades
>you don’t know if she thought you were going to pull something else out of the drawer, or what
>you don’t know what’s going through her head
>it takes you a minute or two to think of enough things to put up on the list
>by the time you’re done, you have five things
>a few of them are minor things that you just have there to keep her busy if that’s what she wants
>the fifth, however, you added with an asterisk next to it
>there’s some dirt involved

>You pick up the piece of paper and walk over to where Applejack is standing
>then, you rotate the list in front of your chest so that it’s facing her

“Alright. Now, Applejack, here’s a list of some of the things that could be done around here. I’m not home all that much lately because of all the work I have to do, but with you here… maybe this stuff can finally get done.”

>you point at the first item and work your way down
>Applejack is listening very attentively
>paying close attention to every single word with wide eyes

“First, there’s the kitchen floor. It needs some sweeping, but I’ve got a broom and dustpan in the pantry. It’s on the bottom shelf. Then, I have a bit of a dust problem in the house… I, uhh, haven’t gotten around to dusting in a long time, but I have a duster in the laundry room. I’ll get it for you.”

>Applejack nods after each item, uttering a quick “Yes, Anon” each time
>you continue

“Thirdly, and this is really not something you have to do if you don’t want to, hon, but the bathroom we were in last night could use some extra scrubbing. I have a handled brush and a load of cleaning soap under the sink, but if you don’t want to do that, that’s fine. Just make sure you keep your bandages clear, ok?”

>Applejack nods enthusiastically

“Yes, Anon. I’ll be careful.”

“Good. Now, I also have some dirty dishes that need cleaning. They’re in the broken dishwasher. The sink’s right up there, and I got a nice wide stepladder propped up against the kitchen wall right over there so you can reach the counter. Just take your time, be careful, and don’t feel any pressure, ok?”

>Applejack purses her lips together, and nods her head
>she looks over at the stepladder, following your gaze

“Yes, Anon.”

>you smile
>you have a feeling she’ll be alright
>and now, for the final item
>you take a deep breath

“Good, Applejack. Now, this last one, you most DEFINITELY don’t have to do right now. But I wanted to leave it on the table just in case. My flowerbeds… well, they’re in bad shape. In fact, basically everything in there is a weed. If you can salvage any of the flowers in there, leave them, but I won’t be upset if you ripped basically all the plants in the beds out of there. There’s clover, dandelions, crabgrass, and all kinds of other crap sitting in there, growing taller and taller. Now, the really important thing here, Applejack, is that you have to do whatever you can to make sure that no dirt gets on those bandages. If you think you might, don’t do it, ok?”

>Applejack follows your eyes around the edge of the walls, getting an idea of how many beds of dirt and weeds you have around the house
>she’s very attentive
>the pony nods her head, a little slower this time, and glances over her shoulder back at her rear with a swish of her tail

“Yes, Anon. I understand.”

>You smile
>setting the list down on the kitchen table, you kneel down in front of her
>and despite her flinch, you put your hand under her chin
>you speak softly, making eye contact

“Ok. Now, listen to me, ok? If you don’t want to do this stuff today and decide that you want to rest, that’s perfectly alright. And if you aren’t sure of what to do or forget how to do something after I show you how, please don’t feel like you have to do it today. Ok?”

>Applejack hesitates for a moment
>and her nod is slower, but her eyes show understanding
>you really, really want to stress to her that she isn’t going to be in trouble if she doesn’t get all of these things done today
>you honestly hope she doesn’t get any of them done today, especially not after what happened yesterday
>pony needs some well deserved rest

>but for some reason
>you know, just a hunch
>you think she won’t just sleep today
>but it’s ok.
>this isn’t strenuous stuff.
>she’ll be fine.

>Applejack’s voice cuts through your ruminations

“Yes, Anon. I understand.”

>And that’s that.
>You’ve got fifteen minutes before you have to leave
>time to get moving…

…

>It had taken twenty minutes to fully explain everything to Applejack
>but it was alright.
>it’s not like you were actually on a strict timetable day to day
>hell, you were the employer, and it’s not like you’d never been a tad late before

>Applejack had not disappointed you
>remaining attentive as ever
>You had spent those extra five minutes drilling it into her head that it was ok not to do things today
>you think she had understood…

>well, you were going to try and get things done quickly today.

>sometimes, you all met at the house or worksite, and sometimes, you all met at your own driveway
>you wished you’d agreed to meet at the latter
>would have given you some extra sleep
>goodness, you were exhausted right now
>probably the sleeping pills still wearing off
>you’ll get through it

>as usual, highway traffic sucked
>added an extra twenty minutes to the trip
>but you’d factored that in already
>you hoped your employees did the same

>you were the first to arrive, as usual
>not because they were late, but because you were early
>as with most of your clients, the house is pretty huge
>around back is the project your team has been working on
>you can’t see it from the front, and it’s a bit of a trek from the driveway
>it’s made it a pain to get all those pallets of stone onto the patio ground
>as well as the wheelbarrows full of gravel and sand
>no wonder you’re so far behind schedule

>you hop into the bed of your truck and retrieve a few of the tools you’ll need
>a shovel, a few bags of stone dust, a hammer and chisel, and a big stone saw
>carrying the bags, you walk around

>and there it is
>the nightmare
>the project from hell

>the patio is pretty huge
>three different levels of light red sandstone, each level about five inches above the one below it
>the whole thing is rectangular in shape, with a medium height border wall all around it
>or, at least, there will be one

>but the worst thing are the pillars in the middle
>they’re all covered in stone fragments on the bottom foundation
>those stone fragments might look haphazard, but holy hell, they are difficult to cut
>it takes a lot of expertise and skill, as well as time, to do them right
>they can be all different shapes, but they have to be around the same size
>cut from raw stone chunks
>also, they have to jut out the same distance from the pillar, so they have to be the same thickness
>it’s been a time vacuum unlike anything you ever expected
>you look over the the ground beside the patio, where the raw stone chunks are lying down
>man, the last thing you want to hear…

-----

“Boss, we gon’ need more stone.”

>this project isn’t a nightmare.
>it’s a night terror.
>you stare blankly at the man standing across from you, pointing at the pillars with his open hand
>you feel the air stop in your lungs
>trying to process
>hoping he’s joking

>but he’s not.
>you bring a hand up to your face, trying to hide your bubbling anger

“Alfredo… Alfredo, I just bought whole new pallet last week, man! Can’t you just…”

>you trail off when he shakes his head at you, an apologetic look in his eyes
>he gestures to the pillars again

“There’s not enough, boss. ‘s not enough, have to cut too much…”

>you groan, and take a step back
>you couldn’t believe it

>Alfredo was a fantastic worker
>and not only that, he was a skill stonecutter and mason
>you pay him very well
>he’s very good at what he does

>which is why it hurts
>because you know he’s right.

>that was easily another 1.5 grand you’re going to have to put into this project
>and you’ve already gotten more stone not one, not two, but three times
>you seriously underestimated this project
>those damn pillars…

>fuck it.
>you’re not going to worry about those for today
>you wave your hand at the pillars like you’re shooing away a fly

“Ahh, don’t worry about that for today, Alfredo. Let’s just join Paco and Aaron and focus on getting those other pallets of stone unloaded for sitting wall, ok? I’ll get more stone pieces tomorrow.”

>Alfredo shrugs his shoulders
>adjusts his gloves on his hands, sets down the chisel in his hand, and walks over to an empty wheelbarrow

“Ech, alright, boss.”

>you sigh
>when you’ll ever get this patio done, you have no idea
>no timetable
>this is going to be a looong day…

-----

>damn, your legs were sore
>it hurt to even step on the brake
>better wheelbarrows are yet another thing you’re going to have to add to your list of things to get
>the ones you have now are creaky, and tip over if you look at them funny

>still, focusing all your attention on the sitting wall on the outside of the patio was a good idea
>you’d finished a good chunk of it
>even managed to affix some of it with mortar
>all you needed were the capstones, now, and you’d be able to finish it hopefully by the end of Wednesday

>truthfully, you could have gotten more done
>but you didn’t want to wait too long
>it was hard to work while you were distracted, anyway
>the thought of the orange pony at home, all alone for hours, made you call it quits by 2:30
>your fellow workers hadn’t complained, either
>this was tough work

>also on the plus side, the traffic wasn’t as bad yet
>you were almost home after only thirty minutes
>when you do arrive, you wait in the truck for a minute while you sip the rest of the gatorade bottle you purchased on the way back
>and you take a few deep breaths

>you aren’t sure what you’re going to see
>but whatever it is, you’re going to try to prepare for it

>you empty the bottle, throw it in an old grocery bag, and hop on out
>both of your feet feel like lead weights in your muddy, steel-toed boots
>you kick the dirt off the bottoms, take them off, and reach for the doorknob

>but then, you pause
>suddenly, you realize that there’s something different
>you were so tired that you almost didn’t see it, but it hits you
>you look at the beds of dirt on either side of the door

>they’re clear.
>before, there was a jungle of weeds
>but now, it’s just brown dirt
>and you can also see, as you look down the front wall, that there is a huge pile of leaves and debris
>all of the crap that was once in those flowerbeds
>and at first glance, you can also see the roots on the plants, still covered in dirt

>holy cow, she actually did it
>and it wasn’t a half-assed job, either
>she went all out, made sure to get to the deepest roots she could
>a smile spreads across your lips

>somehow, deep down, you expected this
>You couldn’t wait until she could really work with you and your team
>someone with her work ethic, with her drive…
>it was amazing

>you open the front door, and step inside

>you didn’t think that the mood in the air could change so quickly
>so dramatically
>but as soon as you enter, your smile disappears

>the first thing you notice is the total silence
>like the very air has gone still
>you don’t know why, but your hairs stand on end
>a prickling chill travels up your spine
>there isn’t a single peep
>not even your air conditioning is running at the moment

>Something is wrong.

>as quietly as you can, you set your work boots down beside the door, and close the front door
>the air around you feels oppressive
>weighing you down
>you call out, quietly

“Applejack? I’m home. Where are you?”

>you walk further in, past the couch
>no response
>your stomach starts churning
>you try again

“Applejack? Hon, you there?”

>still nothing
>well, she must not be inside the house
>then it hits you

>Of course! She must be working outside
>you exhale a breath you’d been holding inside of you
>nothing to worry about! She was just hard at work, that was all.

>you walk over to the sliding glass door at the opposite end of the room
>the blinds are partly closed, letting only some of the sunshine through
>it draws a thick column of light on the carpet, slicing the room in half

>you almost miss it as you walk over
>the light is so bright, it practically washes it out
>when you see the glistening out of the corner of your eye, you turn your head
>and you see it there, lying on the floor

>plate shards.
>they’re lying in a neat pile, and lying in the metal dustpan
>out in plain view
>and it’s a big stack
>and there’s something else you notice

>the shards are put back in the shape of the plates
>that is, as best as they CAN be put together
>and you can see that there are five plates in total that have been shattered

>and then, you eyes travel to a piece of paper
>it’s lying beside the dustpan
>and there’s word scribbled onto it

>gulping, and feeling a sinking in your stomach, you pick it up
>and read the words printed on the middle of the page

“Master Anon,
	I am waiting in your room.
		Applejack”

>the words leave your lips in a whisper
>and you read them over silently in your head several times
>eyes switching between the shards of the plates and the note in your hand, until finally, you turn around
>and look down the hallway, toward the end

>you clap eyes on your bedroom door
>and though you left it open this morning, it is closed.

>with every inhale you take, your intestines twist up into knots
>it was the forlorn frankness of those words that made your heart ache the most
>the resignation

>you let the paper fall to the floor
>it flutters down and lands on top of the shard stack
>then, closing your eyes, you start down the hallway

>to the pony surely awaiting doom.

...

>only wearing socks makes your steps very quiet
>especially on the carpet floor
>you know very well you will startle her if you open the door too quickly again
>and right now, startling her might induce a panic attack
>you can’t imagine what went through Applejack’s head when the plates broke

>when you reach the door, you listen very closely
>expecting maybe to hear her crying from the other side of the door
>but you don’t even hear that
>that makes you nervous

>is she sleeping?
>is she hiding somewhere else?
>or maybe she’s already made a run for it, hoping to buy herself some time with her note?
>all seem very unlikely, but…

>clenching your teeth, you knock on the door
>only a few times, and not too hard
>trying so hard not to convey anger or aggression in any way

“Hey, Applejack? Are you in there, hon?”

>your head leans in, and you press your ear against the wood
>at first, you can’t pick up anything
>in fact, you almost ask again

>but the cracked, choked voice, with just a hint of its now familiar country twang, pipes up from the other side of the door
>and takes the breath out of your lungs

“Y-y…..yes, Master, Ano…”

>she’s so shaky, she can’t even get the last consonant out
>you cringe
>then, you reach down, turn the doorknob and begin to push the door open

>That’s when you hear her gasp
>it’s accompanied by a sob
>you feel your eyes water a bit just hearing that
>you keep your voice calm and collected

“It’s ok, Applejack. It’s ok. I’m not angry, ok, hon?”

>you inch the door forward a little more
>somehow, you can sense her flinch
>you lick your lips nervously

>finally, you gently let the door swing open
>and you stand in the entrance

>there she is, sure enough
>beside your bed, on the floor
>she’s lowered her face to the floor, burying her nose in the carpet and resting uncomfortably on her knees
>whole body pressed into the floor like she’s trying to disappear

>her face is streaked with red
>so many lines of dried tears that they are one big blotch on her cheeks
>she’s shivering visibly from where you’re standing
>you open your mouth, about to say something
>but you stop
>your mouth stays open, jaw hanging loose when you see what’s lying on the ground in front of her

>a stick, thick as your finger and longer than your arm
>an old belt of yours, one of the ones you leave on the floor of your closet
>and a large, heavy kitchen spoon

>she doesn’t look at you
>closing her eyes, waiting
>she’s shuddering without cries

>you can only stare
>eyes fixed on the things on the floor, laid out in a row
>a sharp, stabbing pain hitting you in the gut

>Applejack cringes, and starts to speak
>voice just as cracked, broken

“P-Please, don’t… Master, please don’t g-get rid of me… please!”

>she opens her eyes, and that’s when the tears spring loose
>staring at the stick in front of her, not daring to even look up

“A-Anything, please don’t… Master, please don’t, I-I’ll do anything, punish me, but please, Master please don’t get rid of me…”

>She clumsily begins to stand
>and then, with a broken, choked whine, she bends herself over your bed
>her back hooves don’t touch the carpet
>watching in silent shock, your eyes widen
>her bandages are not there anymore
>they’re laid out on the floor behind her
>and her scarred, bare skin is exposed to the air again

>she hides her eyes between her front hooves
>throws her tail off to the side
>and gives one last shuddering sob before lying still

>and with that, and you standing still as a statue, silence takes over
>and the shock settles in.

…

>eventually, though, you do come to your senses
>and when you look down again, you see she hasn’t moved
>hasn’t looked over at you despite the fact you’ve been standing there for…
>well, a while, you think.

>you eyes drift back to those marks
>open to the air once again
>and then, you feel a bit of frustration bubble up inside of you
>you bite your lips

>you’re going to have to dress them up all over again only one day later
>you were hoping your arrangement would last at least two days

>you hold your head in your hand
>Applejack is shivering
>sobbing
>actually expecting you to pick up one of those items on the floor and use it on her
>for breaking some plates
>it was so sad to think about

>it feels weird that the first words you speak are a question

“I, uh… what happened to your bandages, hon? I thought I told you to keep them on.”

>you said it as gently as you could
>practically cooing the words
>as soon as you ask the question, you cringe and hold yourself back from punching yourself in the cock
>you maybe, just maybe, should have reassured her that you weren’t going to hurt her FIRST
>now she probably thinks it’s just another thing you’re going to punish her for
>you open your mouth, about to do just that, but it’s too late as Applejack begins to stammer

“I-I got dirt on them, M-Master, I’m ss-sorry! I’m so sorry, I’m…”

>Applejack continues to look forward at the wall, straightening her back legs
>she sobs
>your stomach sinks, and you close your eyes

>this was horrible.
>you hold up your hand as she begins to hyperventilate, gripping the comforter tightly while she crosses her hooves behind her
>you were going to end this, right now

“Applejack, please, please calm down, hon! I’m not going to punish you!”

>at first, you aren’t totally sure she heard you
>she’s still breathing shallow, tensed as a compressed spring

>but a few seconds later, there’s a change in the rhythm of how she’s crying, now
>you can’t put your finger on it exactly, but somehow something is just… different
>her breathing seemed to be coming from a deeper place

>when you look down at the floor, your jaw clenches when you see the spoon, belt, and stick lying there
>you take a quiet step forward, trying not to startle poor Applejack again, and gather all of the things in one hand
>all the while you stare at Applejack
>you toss the belt back into your open closet, and then walk toward the open door
>the sound of the heavy piece of leather hitting the floor makes Applejack yelp, and you wince in silent apology

“Shh, it’s alright, hon! Now, I’m gonna go put this spoon back in the kitchen and… well, throw this stick out into the yard. So you just stay there, ok? I’ll be back. Ok?”

>you feel a little like you’re talking to a small child right now
>a small, abused, neglected child
>you seriously hope it’s already sunken in that she isn’t in for a beating

>But thankfully, you see Applejack nod
>hide her dripping nose under her front hooves, and sinking into the mattress
>she’s still crying, but not as hard

“Y---Yes, Anon, I’ll stay…”

>alright, good
>that’s that
>you leave the room with the door open and immediately head to your kitchen, where you drop the spoon on the counter
>you probably won’t be looking at that spoon the same way ever again
>then, you lazily throw the stick out through the half open glass door and slide it back shut

>now, it’s just a matter of the bandages
>so, you go to the bathroom and take out the gauze and cream again
>thankfully it’s a big roll
>it’ll last you long enough for today
>however, the bottle of cream is a little less than half full
>guess you’ll have to spread it thinner

>but then, you also notice that bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls there
>hesitating, you do eventually grab those, too
>depending on what you see, you might end up having to use it
>you know you said you wouldn’t punish her, but you aren’t putting her back in the bathtub for a smaller affected area
>alcohol would be easier, then, but…

>crossing your fingers despite everything in your hands, you walk back into the room.

…

>you aren’t surprised that Applejack hasn’t moved
>you make sure to announce your presence so you don’t startle her

“Hey, hon. I’m back.”

>she jumps a bit, but not too badly
>sniffles, and tenses up
>her tail is still off to the side
>you see what you’re going to have to do, and it’s deja vu from last night
>this pony may be high maintenance, but it’s not something that she can help
>she speaks very softly

“Y-Yes, Anon…”

>you set down the rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, antibiotic cream, gauze and tape down on the bed
>in her view
>you want her to know what you’re doing
>you lean forward so you are closer to her face

“I gotta do what I did last night again, ok? I’ve got the rest of the cream here I used last night, but I’m not sure it’s gonna be enough. I might have to use a little rubbing alcohol, ok?”

>Applejack hears that, and you see her eyes widen a bit
>she darts her eyes over to the materials you dropped on the bed, and sees the bottle there
>you can see a small shiver travel up her spine
>she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and nods her head in acceptance
>despite the fact that she clearly knows what it’ll mean for her

“Yes, Anon… I understand, I-I… I slipped, a-and it… it… I really messed up, Anon.”

>Tears come back to her eyes, and they add to the dampness on the blanket under her face
>you wince, and slowly, you look back over at her flanks
>taking a much closer look, you feel the breath catch in your ribs

>damn it.
>sure enough, a good amount of dirt and dust got past the bandages on a couple of spots, on the left hindquarter
>That little bit left of the cream isn’t going to be able to get all of that
>and besides, you can’t just stick the cream on the dirt and let the particles just sit in there with open marks like this

>son of a bitch
>you NEVER should have given her that weeding job
>even though she had done a fantastic job…
>well, it’s too late now.
>Technically, she hadn’t been careful like you said, made an honest mistake
>but now, she was going to have to go through some more pain
>you really didn’t want to do this
>maybe you could do the bathtub routine again…

>no, this was faster.
>she’d survive.
>it was going to be alright
>you gently set a hand on the back of her head, through her blonde mane

“Alright, hon. I’m just gonna do it. It’ll sting a lot, but it won’t last long, I promise. Ok?”

>Applejack hides her snout between her hooves, eyes still closed
>she looks afraid, but her nod and voice are resolute

“Yes, Master Anon.”

>you smile just a tad, and pet her head once before picking up the bottle of rubbing alcohol
>you carefully unscrew the cap, place a cotton ball over the opening, and tip the bottle back and forth to moisten it
>you get down on one knee, and do another survey of the damage

>you know, with the bandages on you’d almost forgotten exactly how the marks looked
>and you wanted to forget
>whoever did this to her didn’t punish her, they tortured her
>and now, with the ball of alcohol soaked cotton in your fingers, you realize with a pause that you are going to make her re-experience some of that pain, all over again

>you bit your lip, hard
>then, you take a gentle hold of her left leg
>quickly, you explain yourself to her

“I’m holding this to make sure that you don’t kick me on accident, ok? I’m gonna start now.”

>Applejack mutters another ‘Yes, Anon’ under her hooves, and you feel the muscles in her leg harden
>shit, you feel so bad right now

>then, finally, you press the cotton ball into one of the many cuts and begin gently dabbing and swiping the dirt away
>Applejack’s shoots up from the blanket, and a loud gasp escapes through her clenched teeth

“AaAAH! Ahow, ow!”

>you feel her left leg twitch in your hand, kicking out lightly
>her hoof flexes around your palm, and her other leg thumps the side of the bed
>a sob escapes her as you continue, trying to work as fast as possible
>her crying gets a little louder

“Na, AHAaahaa, ooowwaaa! AH, M-Master, MASTER!”

>Your hand freezes, and your blood runs cold.

…


>you don’t know why, but there’s just something different about it this time
>the way Applejack’s voice broke, the way she’s shaking her head and suddenly having muscle spasms
>you know alcohol hurts, but this…

“Master, please no, nonoonono! NO MORE PLEASE! I’M SORRY I’M SOORRYYY!! AAA! NOO!”

>Her leg is pulling away from your holding hand, and she’s grasping at the blanket
>the cotton ball falls from your hand
>holy shit, she’s hysterical
>mouth gaping open with horrifying cries of anguish
>you’re frozen, brain trying to process what you’re seeing and hearing

“I can’t take it! I CAN’T TAKE NO MORE, I-I CAN’T, PLEASE! MASTER NOO, NOHOHOOO! I’M SORRY I’M SORRY AAAGHA PLEASE STOOOP!”

>Applejack bucks her legs, and writhes on the bed, flaying all her limbs in a frenzied panic
>You get hit by her other leg on the shoulder
>and holy hell, does it hurt
>That’s what jolts you out of whatever trance you were in
>with a grunt, you suddenly spring to your feet, and you scramble to try and bring Applejack under control
>she’s rolling back and forth, pulling herself forward over the bed
>all the while howling and raving at the top of her lungs
>totally losing it

>you place your hands on her back, and try to get a hold of her
>she’s flailing around and disheveling the blanket beneath her
>tears are pouring out of her, almost incoherent from sobbing
>begging and begging for the pain to stop
>you call out over her cries, trying to direct them to her ears

“Applejack! Stop, stop! Hon, what’s going on? Calm down, calm down! APPLEJACK!”

>she isn’t stopping, though
>instead, she starts saying something else
>and it’s making the hairs on your arms stand up

“I-I’ll--be a good girl, I’LL BE A GOOD GIRL! Please no more I’ll be a good girl I’m sorry Master, pleasepleaseplease I’m sorry…”

>her voice is cracking
>it’s more breathy than before
>slurred, exhausted
>trying to be loud, but she’s just not strong enough
>her head rolls back and forth on the bed, mouth agape
>gasping out the words ‘please’ and ‘good girl’ over and over

>it’s like she’s not even aware that you’re there
>like she doesn’t know where she is
>distant, like she’s in a different world
>you wave your hand in front of her face, but she looks right through it
>her cries go from loud to soft, then back to loud again, cycling back and forth

>this wasn’t the alcohol
>this was a full on panic attack unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed
>her gasping, sobbing and writhing in your hold chills you to the bone
>your brain races a mile a minute

>water.
>cold water. You needed it right now.
>Springing into action, you let go off Applejack’s relentlessly struggling body and sprint to the kitchen
>you grab a big glass and fill it with the tap before rushing back, not caring about the spillage in the hall

>Applejack is covering her head and splaying her hind legs open, kicking them into the air
>still pleading, sobbing wretchedly
>you brandish the glass of cold water, step aside of her legs
>and then, having a clear shot to her face, you chuck the content of the glass onto her

>the splash makes a wet slap as it hits her face
>and a short, sharp scream rips out of her throat
>but then, in the following seconds, her broken howls and cries for mercy suddenly cease


>her legs, which had been kicking like a rodeo bull, collapse with a thump onto the bed
>and her head, at last, stops lolling from side to side as she affixes the ceiling above her with her wide, emerald eyes
>her breathing is still shallow and panicked, but even that begins to slow as the seconds crawl by

>your hand trembles as it grips the now empty glass
>you stare down at her with eyes just as wide as hers
>besides her heavy breathing, the room is silent

>eventually, you dare to approach her
>hearing you take a step, Applejack’s head whips around, and her eyes lock onto you
>her entire face is streaked red

>when she sees you standing there, she freezes
>chest heaving, the individual ribs poking out through the skin of her belly
>you set the glass down on the blanket, all the while looking at her back

>unlike before, now, you can see that she is truly seeing you
>she’s no longer distant, far away

>Applejack had been in a totally different world
>The pieces are coming together in your mind
>she hadn’t been talking to you.
>she didn’t even know you were there
>in an instant, her entire world had been consumed with agony
>and you knew just whose fault it was.

>you try to smile, but it dies away into a concerned frown
>then, you break the silence hanging like a noose in the air
>Applejack looks at you with fear and apprehension in her eyes

“Applejack… It’s gonna be ok, hon.”

...

>Applejack’s mouth hangs open
>she hasn’t even attempted to wipe some of the drops of water from her face even though it’s dripping
>her eyes blink rapidly
>but encouragingly, her chest isn’t heaving so hard anymore

>her eyes never leave you
>shoulders slumping back, she brings her legs closer to her stomach
>curls up, and partially hides her face
>she’s shivering, now

>you inch forward toward her
>approach from the side so she can fully see you
>you want no surprises for her
>this pony is just so fundamentally broken, you aren’t even sure what to do

“Applejack, hon? Are you going to be ok?”

>what she just went through scared the hell out of you
>what if the water hadn’t worked?
>how would you have been able to get her out of her episode?
>you were seconds away from calling 911
>would they even take a pony?

>you listen intently, hoping that Applejack will answer you
>your eyes keep drifting back to her flanks and rear
>all of the words she had screamed
>pleading, over and over again
>words barely even decipherable
>now, you knew what true torture sounded like

“Applejack? Hon, it’s ok, you’re safe, nothing is gonna happen to y…”

>Applejack’s voice, barely above a whisper, stops your words dead in their tracks
>they barely make it through the air
>she says them with a deep exhale
>a sigh of defeat

“I ain’t worth it.”

>she curls up into a tighter ball
>tries to cover her head from your view
>you watch and listen as she wearily speaks sounding completely exhausted

“I ain’t worth this… your money, y---your time. I ain’t nothing.”

>the muscles of her legs seem to turn into putty
>tension melts away
>you don’t hear any more cries
>see any more tears
>not a sob, not a sniffle
>but the defeat in her voice is total
>just… absolute

“I don’t want to live anymore. I can’t… th-there…”

>Applejack rests her cheek on the blanket
>still no tears
>just resoluteness, conviction
>her whole body is limp
>like putty
>all the tension in her legs, all the resistance
>it’s gone

“I’m sorry… Don’t waste no more on me, M-Master. Just… kill me, however you want, torture, starve me… lemme die… I won’t be no more trouble. I’m sorry...”

...

>Applejack gently closes her eyes
>she looks like she’s trying to fall asleep
>her entire body ceases all movement

>it’s a display of total submission
>not to your demands, but to the consequences
>torture, starvation, it doesn’t matter what you have the power to do to her
>she’s given up.

>you stare, blankfaced
>the stubborn, enthusiastic pony of just this morning, now lifeless in front of you
>and you can sense a sob rising in your throat

>right now, you were her last hope.
>she had none left
>it’s just hitting you that you are talking to someone who is suicidal
>someone in a state of mind that warranted hospitalization…

>but she was a pony.
>mental issues? Suicidality?
>they wouldn’t take her
>whoever her master is, that was their problem to deal with
>and other masters?
>they’d just sell her
>hope to make a quick buck, cut their losses, and pass a broken soul over to the next man unfortunate enough to…
>to…

>You were that next man.
>Those tubby fat fucks in the car the day they’d dropped Applejack off
>they knew from the start
>but the only victim here wasn’t you
>it was the pony in front of you

>against all odds, she had tried to work
>tried to endure the pain
>but now, she was lying down and waiting for you to kill her
>she hadn’t been able to escape the agony of her past.

>you don’t know how to answer her
>it’s all so overwhelming
>but you have to try.
>you lick your dry lips, and approach her unresponsive form

“No, Applejack. You ARE worth it, hon. In so many ways… and you know, I ain’t just talking about the work you’ve done. Which is amazing, by the way.”

>Your voice is sincere
>gentle
>but you don’t even see as much as a twitch of her ear
>you gulp, and stay focused on your mind’s current track
>you have to speak calmly and carefully

“You were… I mean, I know I saw the scars and all, washed them… but tonight, I actually heard the pain from you. Just… hell. It was hell you went through, and you…”

>you pause, keeping your emotions in check

“...you’re still here. Against all odds. And knowing what I know now… I would have spent a fortune to rescue you from where you were. And it would have still been worth it. Hon… you are a wonderful pony.”

>you take a chance, and run your hand down the side of her neck
>she barely even flinches at your contact
>you grimace, but continue petting

“I care about you, hon. I do. Not just as a master to his slave, but a man to a living, breathing creature who deserves kindness, dignity… love. And I’m not going to give up on you.”

>you are taking what feels like a risk
>but you are going to do it
>you can’t just reach her with words
>so, you will try with the only other thing you can

>you don’t know why you do it
>but you begin to lift her
>sliding a hand beneath her shoulders, and another below her tummy
>her muscles, suddenly and for the first time, tense up
>and a tiny, surprised gasp escapes her

>you sit up, against the wall beside the bed
>and then, you pull her body into yours
>placing her head on your chest
>you wrap one arm around her withers
>and the other, you set gently atop her head

>Applejack’s eyes flutter as you begin to run your hand through her mane
>her body, tense as a rock
>but she isn’t resisting you at all

>then, as the minutes drag on, and the silence stretches on
>the tension slowly ebbs away
>until finally, without a word, Applejack just accepts it
>and with a long but soft exhale, she relaxes in your hold

>you stay there with her, petting her head
>the sun starts to go down, light dimming through the window
>not a word is uttered by either of you

>you won’t give up.
>not now, not ever.
>you refuse.

>you stay with her, not even noticing as the two of you fall asleep
>her body held firmly against yours.

…

>your eyes flicker
>and the room around you is totally dark
>holy crap, how long have you been asleep in here?

>that’s when you remember
>Applejack!
>you look down, and sigh lightly with relief when you see her there
>she hasn’t moved one inch
>in fact, she’s still just as limp
>but she’s breathing, so you’ll take it…

>suddenly, the room lights up
>a bright white flicker through the gaps in the blinds
>and then, there’s a faint rumble

>oh noooo
>what the hell is this?
>there weren’t supposed to be thunderstorms, were there?

>this is not good.
>you are a landscaper and a stone mason.
>rain is the devil.
>as if you needed more delays on your project from hell…

>the next boom of thunder is much, MUCH louder
>and it rattles the house
>the flash of lightning is longer, too
>you can faintly hear the leaves of the trees outside rustling with the rapidly picking up winds

>greaaat
>this was almost a guarantee to be a day’s delay if this thing sticks around
>you don’t know what time it is, either, but if it’s early morning then it’s all but guaranteed to set you back

>as the sounds of the storm pick up, you find yourself in a pickle
>Applejack is still breathing softly in your arms, limp
>the hair of her mane flows down over your arms
>but you need to check the time

>another boom, and the wind continues to pick up
>that’s it, you have to get up
>sorry, Applejack

>very slowly, you slip out from underneath her, supporting her head before letting it down onto the blanket
>she doesn’t seem to wake up
>good

>you tiptoe out of the room, the flashes of lightning illuminating your path
>you go down the hall and take a look at the clock
>you stop a groan from leaving you
>4:45
>that’s early for most people, but not for you
>you look out the window, seeing the trees swishing back and forth
>you’re gonna have to phone it in.

>you walk over to the side table, next to your couch
>you pick it up and swipe the lockscreen aside, cursing quietly to yourself
>your workers aren’t going to like not being paid tomorr…

>You see the exclamation point.
>a big fat red exclamation point
>it’s your weather alert app

TORNADO WARNING: FROM 4:40 PM -- 5:10 PM…

>you stare at the phone for a few seconds
>then, you look out the window, hairs raising on your arms
>the trees are swaying
>the lightning is picking up
>you look back down at the screen, and then click on the notification rectangle
>it brings up the radar

>you know how to read radar.
>the little flag indicating your location is right to the northeast of the concentrated blip of yellow, red, and violet
>and hanging right out the bottom of that blip, you see it
>almost right beside your location, maybe five minutes away at most
>a pronounced hook in the doppler, indicating strong tornadic rotation

>and it’s right to your east

>your heart stops.

...

>You stuff your phone in your pocket and fumble through the drawer of your end table
>you pick out the flashlight from inside it and flip it on
>it is a bright ass flashlight, a 200 dollar one that turns night into day
>guess it was a good purchase

>you run sprint down the hall and the turn the corner into the room
>you have absolutely no time to calmly wake Applejack up
>sorry, hon

“Applejack! Come on hon, we need to get moving, wake up!”

>your loud voice startles her awake
>Applejack gasps, and her legs flail outward
>her eyes snap open and flutter open and closed as the light of the flashlight hits her face

“Ahh, ah, whaa…”

“Sorry, Applejack, but we need to get up, right now! Come on, come with me!”

>time is ticking, and the storm is really brewing, now
>you begin shaking her with one arm on her shoulder
>Applejack is clearly disoriented, but when you begin to shake her, she starts to scramble
>vocalizing with loud exhales and emerald eyes wide with sudden fear
>she gets onto her knees and slides to the edge of the bed while you wave her toward you

“Wh-whaa, what’s happening, what’s going on! Master!”

>you help her to her hooves, your hands shaking
>the wind swirls the leaves of the trees, and a boom of thunder rattles the whole house
>you swiftly pull her forward alongside you, gritting your teeth

>You have no basement.
>the most central room in your house without any doors or windows was the next best option
>and that means…

>you talk down to the frightened pony as you move

“We need to get to the bathtub, ok? Come with me Applejack, come on!”

>you don’t shout, but your voice is urgent
>you are having a lot of trouble staying calm
>even if you hadn’t seen radar, there was just something different about this storm
>it was sinister

>Applejack is so confused, and her worry is compounding
>but she does what you say, letting herself be moved along
>she speaks with a crack in her voice

“Y-Yes, Anon, b-but I don’t understand…”

>you book it down to the bathroom
>you don’t have time to feel bad as you pull Applejack into the bathroom with some force behind it
>she yelps, but doesn’t pull back
>you flip on the light and set the flashlight down on the toilet seat
>then, you reach under her shoulders
>Applejack freezes, eyes widening

“Wh-what did I do, M-Mas…”

“No no, you’re ok, Applejack! You did nothing wrong, but you need to get into the tub right now, ok? Here…”

>You lift her up with a grunt
>is she slightly heavier? You don’t know
>wouldn’t be a bad thing for the skinny pony
>but you don’t have time to reflect

>Applejack shakes as you set her down inside
>it would be deja vu of your first night, if it weren’t for the current situation
>picking up the flashlight, you take the phone out of your pocket, kneeling down by the tub
>you open the screen of the weather app and put your hand over Applejack’s shoulders
>she’s quiet, but clearly unsettled, eyes darting all around
>you don’t want to tell her what’s going on
>poor thing is such a nervous wreck already, but telling her about a tornado?
>hell, does she even know what those are?
>if she had another panic attack, you wouldn’t even know what to do

“Good, hon, just sit tight for a little while, ok? Just relax, you’re not in trouble…”

>a massive boom of thunder, so loud it shakes the bathroom in the middle of your house
>Applejack yelps, and her legs go rigid
>you open the radar
>shit
>the storm is right on top of you
>another exclamation point goes across the banner on top of the screen

>TORNADO EMERGENCY: FROM 4:50 AM -- 5:00 AM…

>your stomach flips
>that is literally the worst notification possible
>that means a tornado is imminent

>it’s time to take action.
>you stick your phone back into your pocket, drop the flashlight into the tub, and put your leg inside
>Applejack backs up, pressing her rump against the other tub wall as you climb in

“Master, what’s going on? I’m gettin’ real scared…”

>you are, too
>but you can’t show that to her openly
>you get down on your knees, and motion for her to lay down

“Applejack, I know you’re confused, but do what I say. Turn yourself around, and lay down. I’m gonna climb over you. It’s gonna be uncomfortable, but you need to stay still, hon. Trust me.”

>Applejack stares intently at you, eyes locking in as soon as you tell her to do what you say
>she hesitates, but nods her head when you’re finished speaking, looking nervous
>but she turns around, tail pressed very tightly against her legs, and lays down with knees trembling
>you know she’s probably thinking the worst of your motivations right now, but she has to deal with it
>as soon as she gets down, you climb on top of her and put your knees down on either side of her covering her body without smashing her down into the porcelain
>Applejack is crying a little

>that’s it, you have to tell her what’s happening.
>she thinks you’re setting her up
>keeping her in the dark is not going to help anything
>you make sure your head is below the rim of the tub

“Applejack, hon… there’s a tornado coming. That’s why we’re here. We’ll be ok, but stay real quiet.”

>you lower yourself down further until your body is lying right against hers
>from your position, you’ve rendered her motionless
>you feel Applejack stiffen up beneath you, the muscles hardening to rock
>she nods, very faintly in the confined space so she doesn’t headbutt your chin

“Torna...Oh, oh no, noo…”

>she understood you.
>and now, her head shrinks back, and she huddles in closer to you, getting as underneath you as she is able to do
>she breaths in an irregular rhythm, shuts her eyes tight and shrivels up into the tightest ball she can
>well, she definitely knows what a tornado is, it seems

>you wouldn’t admit it to her
>but you are just as afraid as she is.

>the bathroom light is still on
>it’ll give you a bit of warning if it goes out
>as it stands, Applejack, despite being obviously terrified, obeys you totally
>she isn’t uttering one peep
>the room is deathly quiet, even though the sounds of your breathing echo off the hard bathtub walls
>the thunder is constant, lightly vibrating the house…

>You feel Applejack’s ears spring up to attention
>and a light whimper escapes her
>she shivers, and covers her head with her hooves
>the thunder gets a little louder…

>That’s not thunder.

...

>the hairs stand straight up on your arms and legs
>you’ve always heard that tornadoes sounded like trains as they approached
>and right now, you’re imagining a set of train tracks, with a tornado funnel rushing toward you down the rails

>you consider yourself a calm guy, but right now, you are terrified.
>the roar in the distance picks up in volume
>the fact you can hear it from inside the tub is a bad, bad sign
>at least, you think so
>it also hits you that it’s very early in the morning, yet there aren’t any tornado sirens that you know of in your city
>you’d only been able to prepare because you’d gotten lucky…

>Applejack’s barely contained sob jerks you out of your ruminations
>she shivers, gritting her teeth
>the muscles in her neck bulge with tension

>from your place right over her, it’s just hitting you
>in the face of terror, you realize that Applejack, despite all the horror that transpired last night, is afraid
>afraid of death
>perhaps it’s just instinct…

>but it doesn’t matter to you.
>even if you don’t survive, you’re going to make sure she does
>if she wants to live, you’ll do what you can
>at least, you’ll try
>this pony deserves it.

>As the roar becomes more pronounced, you lower yourself as you as you can go
>then, you gently wrap your arm around her neck and shoulders
>she tightens up, inhales sharply and whimpers through clenched teeth
>you whisper, closing your eyes tight

“We’ll be ok, Applejack. I got you.”

>She doesn’t reply.
>but feeling your arm wrapped around her, she leans into your hold
>you smile sadly, and try to relax

>this might be the end, but at least you have somebody you care about there with you.

>the walls begin to shake
>your heart thumps wildly against the pony underneath you
>Applejack isn’t just shivering right now, she’s trembling like a leaf
>she can’t stop herself, and she begins to cry
>you aren’t going to stop her
>you just squeeze a little tighter, trying to provide her just a little comfort

>you wait for it...

>the lights suddenly cut off
>You flinch, and let out a hiss in surprise
>Applejack, on the other hand, lets out a heart rending cry
>in the pitch blackness, you can only hear the rapidly increasing volume of the tornado’s roar, the air conditioning vents having totally shut off

>you hug Applejack close, and focus on the warmth of her body below you
>and you wait for your house to rip apart.

>the wind whistles against the roof, and you can hear something scraping against the tiles
>the sound of dust or debris hitting the sides of your house, scraping against the brick, nearly gives you a panic attack
>the roar never lets up, neither increasing or decreasing in volume
>you hear loud strikes against the roof and walls, and the air around you seems to fall away
>this is it
>you hold your breath…

>the clattering against the sides of your house is accompanied by the shattering of a window
>you hear a crackling sound from above and behind you
>Applejack hears it, and her cry of distress only slightly reaches over the roar of the tornado
>it’s right there, you can literally feel it
>the air pressure drops, popping your ears

>the house, even through your tub, vibrates like a plane caught in turbulence
>you hold onto Applejack for dear life
>hoping the sound of her cries and the roar of the tornado isn’t the last thing you’ll ever hear.

--------

>the depth of the tornado’s roar makes every hair on your body stand rigid
>a sound like a pressure washer blasting sheet metal scrapes against your eardrums
>the wall of your house, right to your left, is getting blasted with what sounds like sand
>Despite being in the background, the terror in Applejack’s wavering scream will never leave your memory
>objects pelt the roof
>the ground beneath you trembles even more than you are

>then, for a split second, the roar seems to fall away completely
>the air around you feels like it falls, leaving you unable to draw a breath
>but it only lasts an instant
>the roar shifts into something like a tidal wave colliding with a brick wall
>the rushing sound is concentrated to your left
>the roof above you rattles like it’s being pelted with rocks
>with an involuntary shout, you close your eyes and lay your head beside Applejack’s, her soft mane touching your face

>you shut out everything else, and you make a conscious decision
>you’re not going to focus on the mayhem
>if your last thoughts are going to be about something, you want them to about something else
>something other than fear
>something good
>something warm
>something, someone, worth protecting…

>you stray out of time
>embrace the darkness
>surrender, and go limp...

>once your thoughts drift away, it takes a long while for them to come back
>and the first thing that enters your awareness is the arms you have wrapped around the pony beneath you
>hugging around her belly and neck
>you suddenly notice the ringing in your ears, but the constant whine begins to recede
>and when it does, you hear heavy breathing
>the push against your stomach as Applejack’s ribs rise and fall rapidly

>You open your eyes
>at first, nothing but murky blackness seeps into your vision
>but they quickly adjust, and you can see the white bathtub below you

>it takes a moment
>but it slowly occurs to you that, lying hunched over, you aren’t dead.
>unless, that is, your spirit was sent to the afterlife in a bathtub…
>you gingerly lift your head up, hearing the constant gasps of the poor mare lying underneath you
>it takes a minute for you to feel like you have voluntary control of your own lungs
>Applejack moves, sliding her head out from under her forelegs
>her hooves make little clops when they hit the bathtub
>she shudders, and feeling you move above her, she whispers

“M-Master, Master *hic!* Anon… Is it over? Is...”

>Applejack sniffles, giving a little sob
>your mouth hangs open, your shock addled brain taking forever to process such a basic question
>but eventually, you raise yourself up, and peek out over the tub, facing your left

>you don’t know what you expect
>perhaps, you expected nothing to be there
>or see a mass of destruction and debris strewn about where your house once was
>but weirdly, it’s the fact that you see neither of those things that shocks you the most

>the room is totally intact.
>in fact, nothing appears out of order
>the sink, the tile floor, the walls, even the hallway outside
>it looks just like how you left it

>there is no roar.
>there is no wind, no leaves rustling
>no sound other than the distant rumble of thunder and the flickering of lightning in the hall

>Applejack raises her head
>you feel her smooth mane against your neck, brushing against your skin
>the feeling jolts you out of your stunned state
>you inhale sharply
>Applejack’s frightened voice is amplified by the hard tub again

“Master, a-are we gonna be ok? Is it gone?”

>you feel her body squirm
>blinking doesn’t make the incredible sight of your intact bathroom go away
>the near silence hanging like a cloud over your heads is a wordless answer to Applejack’s fearful question

>eventually, you nod your head

“I… think so. It’s gone, hon…”

>using our hand, you push yourself up and inch your way off of Applejack’s back
>you feel the cold metal of the flashlight you brought with, and grab that
>your shirt sticks to her from the sweat on your body, and it peels away
>all the while, you stare at the room

>it takes you a minute to get out, your limbs stiff as can be
>but you do
>once you get off of her Applejack sits up, her joints popping
>you set your hand on top of her head, and coo gently to the shivering pony

“Hold on, ok, hon? Stay here, I’m gonna go look around. Ok?”

>Applejack’s shiny eyes drip tears, and she nods
>you nod back, pet her head, and stand up, creeping out the door with Applejack obediently staying behind

>the shock continues
>you look right and left, and see that none of your house is gone
>the flicker of lightning confirms it
>breathing quietly, you inch down the hallway until you enter the living room, then you turn on the flashlight

>then finally, you see the first bit of damage
>the two windows on the opposite wall are shattered, and small pieces of debris, dust, dirt, and all kinds of other shit are all over the carpet and furniture
>a bitch to clean up, but… honestly, your truck is probably messier
>and other than that, as you look around, even up at the ceiling… you see nothing else.

>you flick off the light, standing in the middle of the room in thoughtful silence.

>Could this have been it?
>there’s no way, you think
>the roar had been deafening, the shaking of your whole house, the long approach
>surely this couldn’t have been it!
>surely…

>no. This can’t be.
>it must’ve missed you
>it simply cannot be…

>you turn to the sliding glass door.
>the curtain is only partly closed
>your eyes hover on it for a second, until a flash of lightning pierces through into the room

>your legs move automatically toward the door
>you latch onto the handle, flick the lock, and slide it open
>the humidity of the air hits you, feeling like a spider web hitting you in the face
>thumb trembling, you tense up, take a deep breath, and then, you turn on the extremely bright flashlight, shining it into the distance of your fenced in backyard…

“Oh my god.”

>The flashlight falls from your hand.

-----------

>fragments of debris, pieces of wood and metal and stone, lay scattered all over your yard
>but it’s what lies beyond your yard that chills you to the bone

>Your “fenced in” backyard?
>the whole fence along the back and sides of two thirds of your property is gone
>your shed, normally located in the upper left portion of your yard, just a little across the way?
>no sign of it.
>but that was nothing, as your flashlight comes to rest on the wreckage of the house behind yours

>the roof is gone, and the outside walls have caved in
>split boards, crumbled brick and drywall, twisted metal pipes
>there is no roof to speak of

>cold shivers traveling up your spine, you pan the flashlight left to right, the column of light reaching very far
>all of the houses behind yours are on a different street, a different block
>there’s a good bit of land between you and them, perhaps just outside of comfortable shouting distance

>and they’re all destroyed.

>roofs, walls, trees, it’s all obliterated
>your light reveals a tall tree, bent sharply and stripped of its bark, next to one of the houses
>wrapped around the base of it is what looks like strips of metal, bent all the way around the trunk

>there isn’t even that much wreckage to sort through, the destruction looks so bad
>the only thing remaining of one of the houses is a pile of dust and debris
>tears are pouring down your face, and you feel sick

“Oh my fucking god, oh my…”

>this thing just missed you
>it would have killed you, too
>that bathtub wouldn’t have saved you or Applejack
>and these people living in these houses…

>you had to help.
>it takes you a minute to jerk yourself out of your trance, but when you do, you race back into the house
>the you shine the light down the hall and make sure to pace yourself, not wanting to startle Applejack
>although you want to sprint

>you turn the corner and enter the restroom
>Applejack is still standing in the tub, shoulders hunched over and shivering with her tail tightly tucked between her legs
>you get down in front of her on the other side of the tub
>she gazes at you with intense focus
>you gulp, and keep your voice from shaking as you speak

“Applejack, the… the tornado missed us, b-but… it hit the houses behind us, and it’s really bad, hon.”

>Applejack’s eyes widen, and you see her body tense up
>the muscles bulge
>her jaw drops, and she inhales sharply

“I-It… oh Celestia, we gotta go help ‘em! We gotta…”

>She starts forward, setting her hoof on the tub wall and suddenly springs forward
>You lean back as she sort of falls into your chest
>A cry of surprise leaves you in as she clumsily topples out of the tub
>you react by wrapping your arms around her
>her rump falls to the tile with a thud, her upper body in your hands
>you have to respond quickly, as Applejack is now thrashing in your hold

“Wait, wait, hold on Applejack! Hold on, calm down, just a second! Calm down, calm down…”

>Applejack is standing up, now, but you maintain your firm grip around her
>You really have to speak firmly with her, but she fortunately does go still and heeds your command
>you can’t have her just running out there right away
>she’s going to hurt herself
>She still breathes shallowly, however, and her muscles are like rock
>In all honesty, she’s probably strong enough to bowl you over, but she’s very submissive to you
>you step back and hold her face between your hands

“Listen, ok? We’re gonna go and help. I’m gonna call 911, and we’re going to go out there and help anyone we can. But I can’t have you running out there all by yourself when we don’t know what’s out there, you could get hurt. Ok? So stay with me, hon.”

>Applejack’s intense gaze gradually softens the more you talk
>what you’re saying is getting through to her
>she takes a moment or two to breathe, and she nods her head
>but the tension in her muscles show she’s far from relaxed
>she’s itching for action

“Yes, Master, I will. But we gotta hurry, right?”

>You nod, standing up
>Her eagerness to go out and help…
>it’s the only thing that manages to give some warmth to your heart in the midst of this horrible time
>you point at your side, and hold the flashlight in your other hand

“Be careful, and don’t leave my side, hon. Let’s go.”

--------

>Applejack takes the “don’t leave my side” command very seriously
>as usual
>the instant the pony sees the damage illuminated by your flashlight, you hear her gasp
>Getting closer to the wreckage, you begin to shine the light all around
>and you notice that even the ground you’re walking on requires careful treading
>sharp objects lying around, a bolt the size of your foot…

“Watch your step, Applejack, ok?”

>Applejack says “yes, Anon” in hushed tones
>She’s already being careful
>all around you, the distant flicker of lightning in the distance, from the storm that carried all of this with it, illuminates
>you’re within shouting distance of the destroyed houses, so you call out over the gusty winds

“Anybody need help!? Anybody there!?”

>You pause, listen, and when you don’t hear anything, you do it again, even louder this time
>your voice seems to dissolve into the air
>The rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning are constant, but distant
>Applejack’s ears are sticking straight up, high on alert
>they swivel back and forth, twitching whenever a boom of thunder sounds

>but then, she stands stiff at attention, inhaling a sharp breath of air
>then she points to your right, her big eyes fixed on a specific location

“Master, I can hear someone! I can hear them, over there!”

>She trots forward, but suddenly stops herself, folding her ears down and staying in place before backing up to your side again
>You would have taken a moment to admire just how closely she follows your every command, but there’s no room in your mind for that
>You shine your flashlight over in the direction she pointed, and it falls upon the shattered ruins of one of the houses, the outer walls caved completely in
>then, you pat Applejack on her shoulders, and take a jogging step forward

“Ok, let’s go. I’m gonna let you take the lead, Applejack!”

>You shine the light to illuminate the way, listening closely but not hearing anything
>but Applejack was adamant, so you trust her
>her ears must be more sensitive than yours.

>Applejack canters ahead of you, hopping over a sharp piece of plywood sticking out of the ground
>Her ears point straight forward, and she’s intensely focused
>you still don’t hear anyth…

>That’s when a wavering moan sounds faintly through the air
>as soon as you hear it, you clench your teeth together
>you whisper

“Oh, shit…”

>Applejack hears it, too
>She goes from a canter to a full gallop, and you struggle to stay right behind her

“We’re coming! Hold on, help’s coming!”

>you struggle to stay behind her, running at the max speed you can, considering all of the debris
>Applejack runs onto the rubble and steps onto the wobbly, unstable rubble which is sitting atop the foundation
>she stares down at the ground, and that’s when you hear the low, agonized moan
>Applejack gasps, and clambers over to the source of the sound

>you can hear the strangled cry from underneath a pile of 2x4s and crumbled drywall, toward the center
>You lower the flashlight and go to help
>But Applejack beats you there, and you freeze when she does something that stuns you
>She lowers her head and shoulders, and with a roar, she slams into a large plank of wood, sitting beneath the majority of the debris that’s actually there

>she uses it like a lever, digging in her hooves and pushing forward like a football player to a practice pad
>You hear loud crunching of powdered drywall and the creaking of the wide plank, and you leap forward with your arms held out, gesticulating like you’re about to help her
>But in a matter of seconds, Applejack ferociously shoves the pile away, where it lands with a loud crunch on the other side
>You step back in startled response

>Applejack gasps, and you see her get down onto her knees
>and then you see her, curled up on what used to be the floor

>a girl of maybe 8 years of age comes into view from the cloud of dust
>or rather, her body does, lying on its side
>The curled up little girl is shuddering, and you hear her moan in pain
>Applejack gasps, and scampers forward with her head held low
>she looks up at you, and you meet her eyes while she points to the child’s torso

“Oh my gosh, she’s… she’s got something in her chest!”

>Her voice breaks, and she points to the object in question
>you run forward and step beside her, next to the poor girl
>when you see it, you gasp, and put a hand over your mouth
>It’s a fragment of wood, and it’s driven straight through the right side of her chest
>straight through, all the way
>she’s shaking, and holding her right side with a white knuckled grip
>tears stream out of her eyes, and she sobs
>your mouth hangs open

>Applejack gets down on her knees and lays her hoof over her chest
>She walks around the injured girl’s body and lays down in front of her
>The kid’s head bends forward and she looks to the pony now lying in front of her

“It’s ok, it’s ok! We’re gonna help you, just stay still, it’s gonna be ok! Oh, Celestia…”

>You aren’t even sure what to do
>the little girl has been basically impaled
>you’re still in shock
>But as your senses come back to you, your hand shoots to your pocket
>you pull out your phone and dial 911
>Applejack is speaking softly to the girl, who’s crying much louder than before
>you hear the child’s weak voice sob out

“I can’t… take it... h-hurts! Hurts...”

>her head jerks to the side rapidly, twice in a row
>it’s the kind of movement one makes when they’re overcome with pain
>chills raise the hairs on your entire body

“911, what is your emergency?”

>The droning female voice on the other end of the phone forces you out of the state of newfound despair you’re feeling from looking at this girl
>you stammer, then take a deep breath, and then manage to talk more calmly

“Yes, I-I got a little girl with me who’s hurt, real bad… got a piece of wood impaled through her, she’s crying, sh-she’s… we’re on Teal Circle Road, uhh… either 12 or 15 Teal Circle Road...”

>The voice on the other end of the line speaks at the same time that you’re just starting to hear sirens
>it’s a hell of a coincidence

“Yes, sir, we’ve already received reports from your area, help is on the way. Is the girl still conscious?”

>You look down at Applejack, who is lying beside the little girl and nuzzling her head
>telling her it’s going to be alright
>you see the little girl grab Applejack’s mane with her left hand
>the sounds of crying are still chilling your blood

“Yes, she’s still conscious! She’s got a piece of a plank or something going right through her chest, u-up on the right…”

“Alright, sir, do not attempt to remove the object. Is she losing blood?”

>You look back down, breathing shallow
>You go over and get down on one knee, next to the shivering child

“Hold on, hold on, just…”

>there’s a crimson streak of blood going down vertically from the exit of the wound, and when you check the other side, it’s the same story
>it’s like it went clean through, like a spear
>You look at the ground, and you see a small trickle of blood, but it isn’t growing
>you look worriedly at Applejack, who is able to do little more than comfort the child, who is holding onto her blonde mane with a death grip
>You nod

“Y-yes, she is, but it’s k-kinda slow, at least for now…”

“Ok, sir. I’m gonna ask you to just stay on the line with me, an ambulance has been sent to your address. Stay with her until help arrives.”

>You hear the ambulance sirens in the far distance
>You wipe a tear from your cheek and then stare down at the girl
>she is gasping, sobbing, and gritting her teeth with tears pouring down
>Applejack kisses her forehead, and scoots in further
>She’s extremely careful not to touch the wooden plank shard
>the little girl moans pitifully in agony, and holds onto Applejack for dear life
>The pony rests her hoof on top of the girl’s head and cradles it

“Hold on, Sugarcube… I know it hurts, but you’re gonna be ok… just hang onto me, it’s ok…”

>You stay at a slight distance, continuing to speak with the operator, telling her more details and just paying close attention
>but as you watch the scene in front of you, Applejack and the little girl lying down beside one another on the cold slab of where the house used to be, a tiny little sentiment enters your brain
>you think it to yourself, whispering it even though it’s in your own mind

>“Good girl, Applejack. Good girl.”

---------------

>You applaud how quickly emergency personnel arrive on the scene.
>they may have been forewarned, you don’t know
>all you know is that the little girl’s life is now out of your hands and into the ones of people far more capable.

>Applejack watches in solemn silence as the girl is loaded onto a stretcher and lifted into the back of the ambulance
>It’s not the only medical vehicle here. The whole block is covered in flashing lights, and sirens are still all around
>It’s a rather populated suburban area, so you think there’s personnel from all over the county
>firefighters, police, paramedics…

>You were reassured by paramedics that these sorts of incidents, that is to say, the girl’s IMPALEMENT, were actually treatable
>you don’t know if you should trust him, but you decide that you will
>even though it seems unbelievable to you

>Applejack cries silently
>You remember how tightly the girl held onto her mane as she was transported on the stretcher to the ambulance
>Applejack followed by her side the whole distance
>now, she was watching her being worked on in the back of the vehicle, bandages and casts and things you have no idea what they are being fastened around her torso, around the piece of plank
>you put your hand on her neck and pull her against your side, in a little hug
>Applejack continues to stare as they close the back door, and within ten seconds, they’re on the way out
>She wipes a hoof across her nose

“I don’t wanna leave her…”

>Your eyes water, and you stroke the side of her neck

“I know, hon. But she’s in good hands, now. I think she’ll make it.”

>Applejack swallows, you can feel it since your hand is on her neck
>She nods her head, and leans into you

“I hope so, Master. She… was in so much pain, I just…”

“It’s ok now, Applejack. You were there for her, you helped her. You dug her out, and if it weren’t for you hearing her…”

>You trail off.
>it doesn’t really need to be said, you both understand
>Applejack sniffles
>rubbing her neck all the way up and down one more time, you pull your hand away…

>You see red.
>Immediately your eyes shoot down to your hand, and you suddenly notice the sticky red blood on your fingertips
>You stop breathing, and then you look over Applejack’s shoulder

>Low on her side, and down on her belly from front to close to her flanks, there’s a thick, wet smear of blood
>At first, you feel your heartbeat quicken as you think your pony is now injured, too
>but then, the realization hits you
>that’s not her blood…

>you feel sick.
>you gag, and and look away from your hand
>you don’t wipe your hand on your clothes, or anywhere else
>it just sits limply by your side

>Applejack stays next to you
>she still remembers your order
>but she’s looking all around, taking everything in with an anxious demeanor
>her eyes bug out, and she points to where two paramedics are carrying a stretcher

“I-Is… is that…”

>you look over
>and your face blanches
>it’s a white sheet covered stretcher…
>coming from the far corner of the same house where you found the girl.

>the two of you stand, slackjawed.
>And that’s when Applejack starts to cry aloud.
>shivering sobs wrack her body, and she lowers her weepy face to the road.

>you’re more in shock than she is, so you don’t cry
>but the knowledge of who that must be isn’t lost on you.

>you feel a horrendous, splitting headache all of a sudden
>you put your bloody hand up to your forehead out of habit, but before you can remember, it’s too late
>you yank your hand away, but it leaves a smear on your skin that you can feel
>your eyes roll back, and you feel faint, but you fight it
>eventually, you do win, but you’re done.
>you can’t do this…

>You pet Applejack’s head, and start slowly walking away from the scene, back to the safety of your home
>She looks up at you, bloodshot eyes fixing you questioningly
>you shake your head, ignoring your throbbing head

“Let’s… come on, hon, let’s go. We gotta get home and get you cleaned up…”

>You feel like the ground beneath your feet is shaking
>but it’s probably just you
>Applejack opens her mouth, about to say something, but she closes it quickly
>lowering her head, she nods

“Yes, Master… but what about other people, what if they need…”

>Your head is killing you, but your heart melts
>but you just can’t do it right now, and you can’t just let Applejack go off by herself
>it’s actually against the law, too
>you shake your head and cradle hers as you walk

“No, Applejack… I don’t think there’s any more we can do now. We just have to, just have to…”

>You swoon, and stumble while you walk
>Applejack sees it, and then gets in front of you with her whole body
>You thankfully don’t fall, but you place your hands on your back, pushing down with your weight
>the points of her vertebrae can be felt under your fingertips
>Applejack pushes back against your weight, supporting you quite well
>she speaks with worry in her voice

“Master, are you alright?”

>You nod, pushing yourself back onto your feet
>the shock of seeing all of this is getting to you, badly
>When you look back down, you see the bloody fingerprints on Applejack’s back

>Fuck this.
>You start forward, gently pulling her forward by her shoulder

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine… We gotta get home…”

>Applejack stays to your side, but she’s angled inwards
>watching your every move
>you just want to get home…

>then, the thought of the little girl’s blood enters your mind again
>on the ground, on Applejack, on your hands…
>the wooden stake driven through her chest...

>you don’t remember doing it, but your legs give out from under you
>your body slumps forward, and you crumple toward the earth
>your eyes falling closed.

----------

>you feel the soft surface under you before you open your eyes
>you feel it before you see anything
>you groan, and slowly, open your eyes

>despite that the room is still dark, you can see well since your eyes have been closed
>but as soon as you do open them, you hear a gasp

“Oh, land’s sakes, Anon! I was worried sick, you just fainted and fell down onto me and I had to carry you in!”

>turning your head, you see Applejack get up from where she was laying on the floor beside you
>You can now see you’re on the sofa
>groaning, you put your hand on your head

“Ughh… hey, hon... H-How long… how long I’ve been out?”

>Applejack walks over to you
>her eyes glimmer with concern
>she pushes her snout under your chin and nuzzles you

“Only a minute or two, Master. I was about to splash some water on your face, but…”

>she points down at the floor, where a full glass of water lies
>you look down, and you groan again
>you have a weird, light-headed throb in your skull
>honestly, you can’t even remember fainting at all

“So… I fell on you?”

“Yes, Anon. I caught you just before you hit, but you still, uhh, hit the ground a little bit. But I got your head.”

>She sidesteps over to the water glass and picks it up before placing it next to your lips
>you grunt, and push your body upright so you’re sitting up against the couch arm
>you take the glass and bring it to your lips
>seeing the clear, cold liquid in the cup you suddenly realize how parched you actually are
>you down the whole thing in less than ten seconds flat
>the glass sort of rolls out of your hand, onto the sofa cushion
>Applejack picks up the glass with her teeth and sets it back down on the floor
>she still looks worried

“Anon, you ok? You drank that real fast.”

>you’re slowly coming to your senses, now.
>slowly, you sit up all the way
>you nod

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thirsty… oh god.”

>And there it is again
>you look down at your hand, about to push yourself up from the cushion and stand up
>and you see the stain of red on your hand, again
>along with the dirty, nasty feeling of stickiness on the webs of your fingers
>just like that, you feel a shiver up your spine, and you remember everything prior to passing out

>but this time, you shake it from your mind, teeth gritted
>you refuse to succumb to another fainting spell
>You shake your head roughly and get to your feet
>Applejack appears confused, and she comes forward to give you support, should you need it

“Forgive me, Anon, but are you sure you’re alright? You were dead weight only a minute ago…”

“Yeah, Applejack, I’m fine, just… we gotta get this blood off.”

>it still feels like a bad dream as you head to the bathroom
>you feel like your feet are moving by themselves
>but you get there without falling over again
>you try to turn on the light by force of habit, but the electricity is still out
>well, shit

>you turn back around and nearly bump into Applejack on your way to the living room
>with a gasp, she hops back scurries out of the way
>you mutter a “sorry” and push the thought of the little girl’s blood out of your mind while you search for the flashlight

“Hey, Applejack, did you happen to get my flashli… oh, there it is.”

>you find it on the floor next to your sofa
>Applejack is quick to answer your question anyway, though

“Yes, Master Anon, I ran back out and picked it up after I set you down.”

>this pony really doesn’t miss a detail, does she?
>Well, it looks like you might need some extra batteries for this thing
>but it’ll be good for now

>You barge into the bathroom and crank the knob on the tub with your unbloodied hand, setting the flashlight face up on the toilet seat
>the water comes pouring out, but you know it isn’t going to be hot for very long
>your boiler is electric
>you put it on lukewarm and begin immediately rinsing off the scabbed blood
>the water turns murky red as you scrub at it with your other hand

>Applejack noses in to your left, close to you
>her body touches against your side, and she looks into the tub at your hand with her ears pinned back
>you glance over at her, and she looks up at you with saddened, dim eyes

>You turn up the heat a little, and the blood comes off all the way
>there’s still some hot water in your boiler, you’re sure, but you have to conserve it
>so, after clearing your hand you crank the knob back off, and then grab the bar of soap and washcloth from their holders
>you turn to Applejack
>She blanches a little

“Ok, Applejack, I’m gonna put you in the tub and clean this… this… clean you off. Ok?”

>She nods
>actually, she starts to climb in herself, but you help her
>she knows the drill, turns around in the tight space so her back legs and rump face the faucet
>That’s when you see the cuts on her backside again, and you realize that the blood was not the only thing you had to wash off right now
>you just had to do it, and push the thought of the carnage outside out of your mind

>You douse the cloth in some warm water, soap it up, and then tap Applejack’s croup a couple of times with your hand

“We still have to get the dirt and everything on your rear cleaned up, hon. After everything that happened, we never got to it. Ok?”

>Applejack, to her credit, just nods her head and, like the first time, braces with a hoof on the wall

“Oh. Yes, Anon. S-sorry…”

>Sorry?
>Guess she thinks it’s her fault…
>Not her fault she had a breakdown like that, poor girl.

“No, Applejack, it’s not your fault. Please, don’t do that to yourself.”

>You just don’t waste any time, and begin scrubbing
>she flinches, and clearly grunts in pain, but she stays still
>and just like that, it’s the first night all over again
>again…

>It doesn’t take so long this time
>Applejack’s a tough pony, you’ve seen that, but she still can’t help but shed some tears in the tub
>preparing for the last step, you take the shower hose off the holder
>You turn the knob just long enough to rinse the spot off, with luckily still warm water, before you tap her on the croup again

“I’m so sorry, Applejack. I know it hurts, but you’re doing great. Here, can you turn around and face me, now? This is the last thing, I promise. I have to clean your belly and side off, but it shouldn’t hurt.”

>Applejack sniffs through her runny snout, and right away begins to turn around
>She’s shivering, and when you get a closer look at her face, she looks like she’s in a good deal of pain
>her red-smeared side is showing, now, and suddenly you feel squeamish again
>but you are going to push through it. If she bear her pain quietly, then you can stomach this.
>Wring out the cloth, re-soap, and then you get to work.

>When the scabbed smears of blood turn brighter red, leaking down and dripping into the tub, it almost looks like it’s Applejack herself who is hurt
>you have to have the water running this time, the tendrils of blood turn the flowing water a murky, dark pink color

>Applejack stares down at the water.
>Her eyes are unblinking, and the whites of her eyes are almost the same shade as the water. Bloodshot.
>She bites her quivering lip, eyes following the ribbons of blood flowing toward the drain.
>her expression is frozen with horror, and it acts like a window into her mind

>You can somehow tell that something is very wrong almost right away
>the same look from last night flashes across her face
>She’s seeing the blood in the same light as you are
>The blue light of the flashlight almost making the blood look darker in color, like black snakes moving through the water...

>Applejack sighs, and then gives a sob
>She shakes her head

“I wish we could have traded places.”

>Her fetlocks tremble.
>She’s choked up, and you can see more tears trickling down her cheeks

“I wish it was me out there, and her in the tub with you when the tornado hit... “

>Your heart aches hearing this again
>Applejack hides her head between her forelegs, and another sob echoes into the bathtub
>you try to nip this in the bud

“Now, Applejack, there’s no use talking like that…”

“She’s so young, little, and I’m just… I’ve got nothing, I’m… I’m nothing.”

>Oh, no.
>it’s happening again
>Applejack bends at her knees, and with your hand on her ribs, you feel them heave
>your washing hand stops
>Shaking your head, you immediately try to reassure her, the sense of sadness heavy in the air

“Applejack, you aren’t nothing! You saved her, dug her out.”

“She’s not gonna make it. I-It went right through her… I couldn’t save her, either…”

>Either?
>You would think for a second longer about what you just heard, but she’s falling apart
>the sobbing you hear is barely repressed
>you scoot closer, and just drop the washcloth
>You place a hand on her withers

“The paramedics said…”

>Applejack isn’t listening.
>She backs up, and falls onto her back legs, sinking down
>her body falls away from your hand, which lands on the side of the tub
>her hooves cover her face, and she squeezes her eyes shut, sobbing brokenly

“I can’t lose her, too, I can’t, I c-can’t! I CAN’T!”

>Applejack’s voice cracks as she snaps, and her whole body is wracked with sobs
>The sudden loud cry makes you drop the shower handle
>feeling the hairs stand up on your neck and your vision blurring, you find yourself jumping into the tub
>verging on panic, you reach to pick her up, grabbing a hold of her shoulders

“Applejack, Applejack! It’s ok, it’s gonna be ok…”

>You can’t possibly think of something else to say as she turns into a puddle in the tub
>Stretching yourself down, you grunt in an attempt to lift Applejack’s shoulder up, trying to get a hold of her
>your legs and pants are soaked through as you kneel down
>there’s nothing you can think to say to ease what she’s feeling, so you’re doing the only thing maybe you can do, try to give her just a bit of comfort
>just something to hold on to…

>Then, with Applejack feeling your hands on her, she does something that shocks you
>With a jolt, she lurches into you, and buries her face into your chest, legs wrapping all the way around you
>out of reflex, you embrace her right back, and she collapses heavily into your arms
>back legs bunched up behind her while her belly rests on the tops of your thighs

>You are speechless as she pulls you toward her with her powerful front legs,
>she weeps into your shirt, tears pouring out like water
>Her voice is barely coherent, but you make out what she’s saying, mouth and nose buried into your chest

“Don’t be my angel, no more… save someone else, don’t, don’t… don’t try to save me, just save her instead… save her instead… don’t be my angel no more…”

-----------

>Applejack presses further into you, weeping
>her tears are staining your shirt
>you are forced to kneel from her dead weight on the tops of your thighs, the water soaking into your jeans
>it occurs to you at the last moment to reach back and shut off the water, which you do
>the gurgling of water coming out of the showerhead ceases, leaving you both in dripping silence
>the only sound remaining is the echoes of Applejack’s cries off the bathroom walls

>You reach your other arm lower, and forcefully pull her lower half closer to you so her hooves aren’t dragging in the water
>The meaning of what she just said to you is starting to sink in as she totally surrenders to you

>She called you her “angel”
>just for feeding her, giving her a bed
>treating her with basic kindness and respect
>not beating or raping her

>For those reasons, you were her “angel”.

>you aren’t ashamed that you are close to crying
>You gently shh her, and bend you head down to rest your chin on the top of her head
>her ears flatten back

“Go to her, instead… just leave me, just… let me drown here, let me…”

>Applejack trails off, and devolves into more cries
>it feels like a punch to your gut hearing her ask you to kill her
>you shake your head, and take tighter hold of her hair
>your teeth are gritting together from the ache you feel in your chest

“No, Applejack. None of this was your fault.”

>This doesn’t comfort her.
>Applejack’s ribs heave and shudder against you
>she shakes her head madly, and begins to writhe in your grasp

“No! You don’t understand! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!”

>you suddenly have to fight to hold on to her
>Applejack hyperventilates, and she suddenly pulls away from you
>You are again reminded of how strong she is as you have to practically flex every muscle in your body to hang onto her

>She squirms as hard as she can, sobbing breathlessly
>you try shushing, calmly speaking words of comfort into her ear, and even resting your cheek on the top of her head in the tightest hug you can manage
>but it doesn’t console her.

>Applejack continues to struggle
>that is, until she realizes she can’t get away, her position too awkward to get any traction
>then, she gives up, and goes limp like a dead fish, and simply accepts your grip around her

>You know Applejack isn’t relaxing
>She’s just… dead.
>You wish you could say something, do something, ANYTHING, but you’re at a total loss

>Breathless moans of despair are interspersed with barely audible, whispered words
>but your ear is so close to her mouth, you can barely make them out…

“Sis… ‘m sorry, I’m sorry… I couldn’t save you…”

>Sis…
>sister?
>The piece of this whole, uncomfortable puzzle of her torment at the hands of her former master falls heavily in front of you
>The more things you discover, the more your heart breaks for Applejack

>but you won’t ask her now.
>Later. It had to be later.
>Right now, you just had to be here for her.
>You only continue to listen, kneeling in the wet tub while Applejack slowly drifts away in your arms.

…………..

>In the dark, the quickly warming and humid air around you makes you sweat now that your air conditioning no longer works.
>You carried her again, to the sofa, and laid her down where you were lying down only a little before.
>Neither one of you were asleep.
>The sun was peeking out over the horizon, but you can’t stomach looking out the window.
>the tornado damage outside is surely much more visible, now…

>Applejack breathes softly, and if it weren’t for her open eyes, you’d think she was asleep
>her cheeks are covered in red lines from how long she’s been crying
>She stares off, looking at the wall
>her gaze is distant, like she’s somewhere else

>You sit in the seat next to the sofa, and while you’re looking in her direction, your gaze is just as distant as hers
>so much is on your mind…

>She speaks, and her voice cuts through the heavy, humid air.

“My sister is gone. My sister is gone, he… he sold her to the mine, a-and I’ll never see her again.”

>Applejack’s words come out of the blue.
>You snap out of whatever trance you’re in, and you feel like your heart just stopped.

>Her tone is eerily quiet
>just like last night, you realize
>flat, drained of life, of feeling…

>For some reason, the only thing you can think of saying in response, is her name
>meekly, like a question

“...Applejack?”

>She curls up, and his her eyes behind her hooves
>her voice breaks

“And it’s… all my fault.”

------------

>Applejack’s eyes are hidden from you
>but dark spots form on the sofa cushion below her face as tears drip from her cheeks

>all it takes is the word “mine” for you to seize up
>you’ve seen pictures
>this is a pro-slave pony area of the country, but even here, you know of the opposition to forcing ponies into mine labor
>you’ve seen the pictures
>the dirt and scars, the statistics on pony’s lifespans doing that kind of labor
>they were bad.
>bad enough that even pony slave owners have spoken out against it before
>And Applejack’s little sister was suffering that fate...

>at least it is illegal in some states, but there are too many elected members of Congress in the pockets of pony slave industry to force a majority vote against it on a national level
>at least, for now
>but things are changing...

>you want to immediately console her, reach your hand out to her
>tell her that she’s wrong
>but at this point, you only know one thing:
>you know nothing.
>you only have an inkling of what she’s been through, and right now, you don’t want to assume anything.

>but this can’t be put off any longer.
>you need to know.

>So, you decide that you will dare to pry further.
>Not knowing what she’ll say, or do, you speak softly, but directly.

“Applejack… tell me what happened, hon. Please. I must know.”

>Applejack gives no response at first.
>she lies stock still, and the only sound in the room is her gentle breathing
>you wait patiently, just hoping for a response
>the last thing you know you should do is try and force it out of her
>she’s so shattered right now, you’re starting to wonder if even imploring gently is going one step too far.

>you take the next several seconds of silence as a refusal
>but unlike other times, you aren’t going to take advantage of her submissiveness to you and demand an answer
>only when it had been for her own good, but now, not this time.
>damn, you shouldn’t have even asked…

>You don’t even notice it when Applejack raises her head
>but you do notice when she speaks
>startled, you whip your head around

>staring off into the wall, she speaks softly, but clearly.

“It feels like so long… but it ain’t been more than a year since I last saw her…”

---------

(POV Applejack)

>You got your work done in only eight hours today
>and that was including all of the double checking

>thanks to how well your work went, maybe now, Master would give Apple Bloom some extra food for today’s meal
>but probably not
>with Master, it was always an all or nothing deal
>if you didn’t do a satisfactory job, your sister went hungry
>if you did, Apple Bloom got her rations
>It was that simple.

>And you would be damned before you let your sister starve
>Your joints ached, your muscles burned, and your body was always covered in sweat
>but you pressed on anyway
>day after day, you just mindlessly followed the routine
>you dared not think of anything but your tasks
>anything else was a waste of time

>But even still, as the sun tanned your orange coat, you couldn’t help but think of your hat
>you missed it…

>The water from the hose is not cold, but you are so thirsty that you do not care
>you gulp it greedily, the bump in your throat bulging out with each swallow
>once you’ve had your fill, you walk toward the house

>Master’s house isn’t even really a house
>it’s a mansion, an estate
>despite its size, it’s separate from Master’s other agricultural enterprises

>you were powerful, strong
>your two former Masters had learned that
>and they’d learned that the hard way…

>in fact, you had originally been stationed outside of the estate when you first got here
>they started you on the grunt work, some of the heaviest labor at this place
>but you weren’t afraid of lashes, or strikes
>you did the work, but you never feared giving them lip
>showing them the fires of your defiance
>even sometimes disobeying orders from your overseers

>That is, until...

>You never figured out how Master discovered your sister.
>You’ll never forget the day when he brought you into his house, dragged between three guards
>they dragged you through his front door, into the front lobby

>and as soon as you saw her, standing beside your Master, your heart had stopped
>a growing filly, with a red wavy mane, her pale yellow coat and your mother’s beautiful, expressive eyes staring back at you
>she was older, but still very much a filly
>you knew it was her the second you clapped eyes on her

“Ap...Apple Bloom?”

>You barely whispered it
>you almost wanted to ask yourself if it was a dream, if this could possibly be real
>but you could feel the cold floor beneath your hooves
>you could still sense the prickling tingle of the sunburn on your face and shoulders
>and you knew it was real.

>Apple Bloom’s eyes had practically bugged out of her head when she saw you
>her jaw dropped, and she seemed to stop breathing upon her realization
>and for the first time since you had been ripped from all family, all traces of your former life, you felt a warmth in your heart
>it felt like it was floating in your chest when she called your name back at you, face beaming with elation

“Applejack! APPLEJACK! Oh gosh, oh Celestia, Applejack!”

>it was the first time you had heard her voice in so, so long
>and when it said your name, it made the tears start flowing like rivers down your face
>you cry unashamedly, and you rush forward

“Apple Bloom! Oh, Apple Bloom, it’s you! Oh my gosh, it’s YOU!”

>There were tears in her eyes, too, as she began towards you
>In that moment, everything else around you disappeared
>you had tunnel vision, and all you could see was her
>tears falling, a smile so wide it could have lit up the night sky, you closed the distance between you...

>and got a boot hard to the gut.

>in an instant, all of the air whooshed out of your lungs, and you fell flat on your stomach
>striking the hard floor, the impact knocked you dizzy
>you didn’t even have the breath to give a shocked cry of pain
>and your mouth gapes open with failed attempts to draw breath

>But then, you heard the scream of your sister.

>someone grabbed your mane, and yanked your head up
>and behind you someone stepped onto your back, pinning you to the floor
>you gasped noiselessly for air, and it took a moment for your lungs to start working again

>neck bent awkwardly, you were forced to look ahead
>and the sight you saw made your heart feel like it was going to explode

>The third guard, who had been with you, now forcefully held Apple Bloom down
>his foot stood on top of her lower back, and his hand held her tail taut
>Apple Bloom tried to kick out, but he pushed her down, making her cry out with distress

>your brain registered pain and confusion at the same time as the scene around you crumbled
>every muscle cried out as you tried to struggle, but you were immobilized
>still, you tried to say her name, your pulse so hard that you could feel it in your throat

“Apple Bloom! Ap---ahh!”

>the guard’s foot pumped down hard on top of you, driving the air out of your lungs once again
>your sister’s name dies before it can leave your mouth
>Across from you, Master stood unperturbed by all that was happening.
>he took turns looking at you, and then Apple Bloom, doing this over and over

>from across the floor where she lay, you met your little sister’s gaze
>the thoughts that would have been racing through your mind, the joy at seeing her right here in front of you
>it was ruined when you saw the terror in her eyes

>Master bent his head down to look at you
>The hand gripping your mane pulled your head to the right, forcing you to look back at him
>when you saw his face, the icy smile on his lips made your skin go cold

“Ahh. So, she IS your sister! I knew it was true the second I saw your face when you walked in here.”

>The jovial tone was so saccharine sweet that it makes your blood chill in your veins
>it wasn’t sincere
>it wasn’t happy
>it was…

>All of a sudden, you saw the whip in his hand.
>The sight of it made you jolt, like a shock was just sent through your body
>Master smirked at you, and he gritted his teeth
>you’ll never forget that look on his face, long as you live
>the seething rage beneath his smile…

>Apple Bloom saw it, too
>she went pale, and began to try and slip away as he stepped toward her, focusing all of his attention on her
>you don’t know why, but at first it was like you were too shocked, too confused to say anything
>it was like your brain just couldn’t catch up with what was suddenly happening

“No, no, w-wait, w-what’d I… no!”

>Apple Bloom’s shaky voice broke with a heart-rending squeak as Master raised the thin, cordlike whip above his head.

----------------------

>before, you had been frozen in shock, unable to process what was happening
>but now, at seeing the whip being raised, your voice finally unfreezes
>The scream of terror that rips out of your throat echoes around the large antechamber

“NO! Master, Master no! I’ll do anything, I’LL DO ANYTHING!”

>Your Master’s arm and shoulder twitch forward, and so does the whip
>but at the last possible second, his arm stops
>the cord of leather swings back and forth like a pendulum, dangling under his elbow

>He turns to you, and away from your quaking sister
>His eyebrows raise, and he tilts his head

“Oh? Anything?”

>He tries his best to sound surprised
>amused
>But it’s lost on you, and you don’t hesitate to nod your head
>emphatically

“Yes! Anything, anything, Master! Please, don’t!”

>Master smiles
>it’s a look that twists your stomach
>and then, slowly, he lowers the whip
>the end of the leather cord now drags on the floor
>but his eyes remain fixed on you

>instead of breathing a sigh of relief, you gasp, bringing air into your lungs
>your pulse pounds in your ears, and tears of absolute relief drip to the floor
>Apple Bloom’s eyes, which had been squeezed shut in preparation for the whipping she was going to receive, now flutter open
>Her eyes dart all around, taking in the scene before her, before they rest back onto you

>There’s gratefulness, but also, pain in her gaze
>seeing her expression makes you begin to better realize what you just promised
>you promised to do anything
>and you knew not what cruelties you were now going to endure
>but the fear now gripping your heart, compared to the pain Apple Bloom has just been spared, is nothing
>you no longer care what fate now befalls you
>as long as she is safe.

>The sound of your Master’s boot stepping on the hard floor shake you out of your thoughts
>He rolls up the short whip, and holds it by his hip, and takes a few more steps toward you
>until he is standing just in front of you

>he kneels down, and your very blood turns to ice
>his hand reaches under your chin
>and softly caresses it
>you can’t help it, but you start to shiver

>He leans down, and speaks to you

“Anything. Anything… that’s quite refreshing, coming from you.”

>He runs his hand down your cheek, and down your neck
>despite it all, you have to resist the urge to bite him
>you almost feel ashamed that the thought even crosses your mind

“You see, I’ve heard from many of my men that you have been quite the handful. And what’s worse, other ponies have begun to catch on. It seems you’ve turned into… inspiration for them.”

>He runs his palm down your throat
>and you jolt as he gives it a brief squeeze
>for a moment, your airways are closed, but he releases almost immediately
>but the short display of power makes you understand the gravity of your situation
>you cringe as he leans close to your ear

“I wasn’t sure of how to deal with that. I thought, maybe I’ll flog her? Brand her? But then I realized I would be making a martyr. And what if you didn’t break? Goodness, what a disaster that would end up being. I found myself in a pickle… until I found her.”

>He points to Apple Bloom with his finger, jabbing it in her direction

“So, here’s what I’m going to do, Applejack. Rather than just flog you to pieces, as much as I would LOVE to whip you into bloody ribbons right now, I’ve decided to be more civilized. I’ll keep you nice and close to my home, and put you on labor duty on the manor instead. Your sister, on the other hand, will work in your old placement, away the manor. And guess what?”

>He presses up on your chin, and speaks softly
>every word drips venom, and the things he says next make you more afraid than any prospect of being flogged to death

“I’ll be watching you closely. Every time I see you, and I don’t like your work, if you don’t meet your quota… your little sister won’t eat. And every time you try something, give lip to my men, defy orders, inspire other ponies to resist? I’ll have your sister whipped. And every time she doesn’t get her rations or she feels the lash on her back, she’ll know. She’ll know it was all your fault.”

>He lets go of your chin, and your head falls down with a thud on the floor
>But this time, it stays there for a moment
>like the very weight of his words are pressing down your head, keeping it floored
>and when you lift it, the weight never lets up

>Apple Bloom’s face has blanked
>her jaw lays slack, and she lies motionless
>Tail and back legs still gripped by the man behind her

>You know she heard everything your Master just said.
>You can see it in her expression…

“Alright, that concludes business here. Take Applejack up the steps to her new room, and take… Apple Bloom, was it? Take Apple Bloom off the manor grounds.”

>The suddenness of his orders, spoken with no regard to you or your sister, quicken your heartbeat
>and when you feel the men yank you up by your forelegs, letting your back legs drag on the  floor, you feel panic grip your chest

“W--Wait! Wait, Master, m-my sister…”

>Apple Bloom gasps as the man behind her very roughly jerks her upright
>he wraps his arm around her middle, and hauls her into the air
>pressing her against his chest, and he begins to carry her away

>In a matter of a moment, you see Apple Bloom slipping away from you
>in your dreams, you had longed for a chance to embrace her, every day since the day you were separated
>and now, after seeing her in the flesh, so close to you, the thought of her slipping away was more painful than you could have possibly imagined

>you scream

“N-No, NO! NOOO! NO, please, please Master, please…”

“Please, what?”

>He snaps back at you
>but the dragging does cease, and you come to a halt
>They twist you around, and you meet him eye to eye once again
>you stammer, and shamelessly plead, so desperate that you speak amid sobs

“Please, just let me hug my sister… let me have just one minute, just one… please, please, please…”

>The amusement on his face means nothing to you
>you care not that you’re totally breaking down
>you care not that he can see your will to resist shattered
>you need her
>you need her…

>Master walks to Apple Bloom, who is gasping
>she is pleading as well, in more subdued tones, for the same thing as you
>he looks first at you, then at her, and repeats this process three or four times

>he narrows his eyes, and then shakes the coiled whip in his hand at your prone sister

“Well, Applejack, that depends. Is your sister willing to take ten lashes for it? Right here, in front of you?”

“YES! YES, I WILL! I’LL TAKE THEM!”

>Apple Bloom’s shout pierces the air
>You don’t even have a chance to process his question by the time your sister agrees
>Your mouth opens in unspoken words, not able to escape in time

>the two men holding you drop you onto the floor, and you land with a thud
>the same happens to your little sister

>Master shakes his head, and steps away to give you some room
>but he fiddles with the whip in his hands

“Alright, that’s that. 60 seconds. 59…”

>As he begins to count the seconds, you recover from your surprise, realizing that  what’s said has been said
>your sister already agreed
>there was no objecting, no going back...

>Nothing else mattered, now
>weeping, you frantically pick yourself back up
>Apple Bloom springs forward, and for a moment, time slows down to a crawl
>a scene from your desperate, fevered dreams, suddenly realized

>Her warm body collides into yours, and you wrap your hooves tightly around her shoulders
>you squeeze her tightly, and she squeezes you back
>Your hoof goes up to cradle her head, running it through her smooth, beautiful red mane

>you try to speak clearly, but you are crying so hard that they come out as hiccups
>Apple Bloom nuzzles into you, and you kiss her on the head, again and again
>broken stammers are interspersed with words

“Ap-ple Bloom, oh Apple Bloom, I l-love, I love you, I love you…”

>It was all you could think to say
>You rock her back and forth, rubbing the spot between her shoulders
>Apple Bloom sobs into your chest, shaking like a leaf

“I lo...love y’too, Applejack, sis… s-sis!”

>her voice cracks, and she weeps brokenly
>you kiss her again, the warmth of her body against you the only thing in your universe that matters to you

“Bloom, I-I’ll work, I’ll keep you safe... I won’t give up, Bloom, I love you… be strong, no matter what...”

“I… I will! I’ll be strong… I love you, big sis…”

>It all devolves into cries, sobs, and gasps
>no more words, just the tightest hug you can manage
>You never wanted to let her go…

“...Zero. Alright, hold her down.”

>Your Master’s voice enters your realm of awareness
>and you feel the body of your sister suddenly being forcibly pulled away
>Your eyes shoot open, and a river of tears pour down your face
>a wavering, strangled sob escapes your throat
>and the feeling of your sister’s warmth leaving you leaves you feeling colder than ice

>It was what your sister had agreed to.
>Despite even your toughest grip, the powerful pairs of human arms tear your crying sister away from you, while another wraps around your neck
>Choking you, Master’s guard forces you back until you’re far enough away

>Across from you Apple Bloom’s forehooves are stretched out in front of her by one of the two men, while the other does the same for her back hooves
>She heaves with sobs and presses her face in between her hooves
>the reality of what was about to occur sinks in, and you can’t help yourself
>you beg for mercy as Master approaches, twirling the whip

“Master, please… please, I beg you, punish me… give me fifty, a hundred, please… please just punish me…”

>Master sighs
>shakes his head
>and raises his whip

“I am.”

>Outside, even on the outer limits of Master’s property, the cracks of the whip and the screams of your sister ring out in the air.

------------------

(Anon’s POV)

>You sit in silence.
>Applejack isn’t talking anymore, either.

>You feel bad for being morbidly curious
>and part of you now wishes she never told you what happened.
>Your chin wrinkles with anger and disgust, and you sigh heavily through clenched teeth

>She hadn’t even gotten to her scars, yet
>or the way she responded to you simply petting her on the head, thinking you wanted sex from her
>what happened after that to break her so badly
>or what happened to her little sister…
>Your fists clench so hard that your fingernails dig into your palms
>If you were angry at Applejack’s old master before, then you were furious now
>the thought of someone whipping a child, holding them hostage, made you sick

>She pinches her nose in between her hooves, and curls herself up.
>She shakes her head with her eyes closed

“I can’t, Master. Not now, I-I can’t say no more, please don’t make me…”

>There’s a squeak in her voice
>She shudders, and her tail covers up her belly
>God, it breaks your heart just to hear her ASK you not to force her to relive her trauma
>You quickly shake your head, holding up a hand to wave off her concerns

“No, Applejack. You’ve said enough… god…”

>You cover your face with your hand and rest your elbow on your knee
>You strangely find yourself looking over at her backside, which is still visible
>now, you suddenly have imagery behind the cause of those marks, and you bite your lip

>You know what she just said, but you can’t help yourself
>you have to ask
>you shyly point at her rump, and cringe as you ask the question

“Did… HE do that? To you?”

>Applejack’s hooves twitch, and her tail tucks in between her legs.
>You’re not even sure if she saw you point your finger
>however, she seems to know what you’re talking about anyway.

>You almost don’t notice it, but she nods.

“Yes.”

>Her eyes are glistening
>moist with unshed tears
>You feel a sinking in your gut, but also, anger in your heart
>As if you didn’t have enough reasons to hate her former master…

>It’s probably pathetic
>maybe counterproductive
>but you have to say something

“I’m sorry, Applejack.”

>She doesn’t seem to react to your apology either way
>like the apology just bounced off of her
>and as soon as it leaves you, you can’t help but feel stupid
>What did your sorry do for her?
>Could you heal her pain?
>Could you bring her sister back?

>Applejack gently shakes her head

“No, Master, don’t be. You… you’re the only one. The only human who’s ever shown me k-kindness.”

>You realize she is now looking at you.
>She sighs, and her eyes gently flutter open and closed
>the fatigue in her voice conveys a sort of regret that you can’t quite understand

>You feel an immense sadness weighing on you
>to think that you simply needing some help with your landscaping work led to all this
>you hadn’t brought Applejack in out of the kindness of your heart, but out of utility

>but you hadn’t gotten rid of her, even when she hadn’t been healthy
>injured
>mentally broken and terrified
>you had helped her instead…

>It had been a messy divorce.
>No kids, nothing but a small house and a job making lavish landscapes for rich people so you could pay the bills
>Not many friends to speak of
>Sometimes feeling like your life was in limbo…

>But maybe, after all of that, there was something good you still had left to offer someone.

>Feeling lightheaded, you slowly stand up
>Applejack’s head lifts, and her ears pin back when she sees you move
>perhaps it’s just a reflex that she goes wide-eyed
>but you are quick to let her know everything was fine.

“It’s ok, hon. I’m just getting water. Do you want any?”

>Applejack gives you a blank stare for a moment
>but she does come back to her senses, and nods

“Yes. That would be nice, Master, thank you…”

“Anon. Please, just call me Anon.”

>Even though you speak as gently as possible, guilt still flashes across Applejack’s face.
>She lowers her nose into the sofa and gives you an apology

“Oh, S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to forget, M… Anon.”

>The fact that she almost let ‘Master’ slip out again demonstrates to you just how ingrained it is.
>Every time she feels she has done something to wrong you, ‘Master’ is almost the first thing out of her mouth.
>But despite being her Master, you want nothing to do with being called that
>You want nothing to do with the man who owned her before
>not even by mental association.
>You’re going to have to deal with a lot more slipups, you know
>it’s going to take a lot of gentle correction to break her habit
>but she’s going to heal.

“It’s ok. I know you don’t mean to.”

>At least getting cold drinking water won’t be a problem now that your power is going to be out for the foreseeable future
>You fill up two glasses and walk back

>To your great surprise, Applejack is no longer laying down, but crouching on the sofa with her legs bunched up under her
>She’s careful not to sit, with her injury and all
>You hand her the glass, and she takes it with her eyes averted from you

>This time, instead of sitting back in your chair, you join her on the couch.
>Applejack still doesn’t look at you, and now that you’re closer, she’s beginning to shiver again
>you frown, and there’s an ache in your chest
>Does she actually think you’re angry at her for something like this?

>Probably, you think grimly.

>You don’t know what makes you do it
>only two nights ago, it had resulted in something very bad
>But your hand has a mind of its own
>After Applejack takes a gulp of her water, you place your hand on top of her head, and pet down her neck.
>She flinches from your touch, and despite that you don’t push down, she instantly lets her head fall to the cushion
>lowers her gaze and closes her eyes, but not in contentment

>Even so, you don’t stop petting her
>You’re very careful not to move past her neck
>you want her not to associate your touch with bad things, but you know traveling down her body would be a step too far right now
>You keep it up despite her silence and rigidity

>After a minute with Applejack’s tension never lessening, you stop stroking her head, and instead rest it softly on her mane
>Even with all of your best efforts to put her at ease, she’s the exact opposite
>you gulp, and ask her a question

“Applejack… are you afraid of me?”

>She winces when you ask her
>feeling the twitch in her shoulders under your hand
>you almost pull it away, but you decide to keep it there
>you don’t even know why…

“I-I…”

>She swallows hard
>Then, after some mental deliberation, she nods her head.

“Y-Yes. I am, yes, Anon.”

>Well that answers that question.
>You close your eyes and sigh
>you feel helpless hearing that admission
>wondering what you need to do better
>what you did wrong...

>Unexpectedly though, she keeps going
>talking quietly, meekly with her mouth against the couch
>The fear and sadness in her voice is palpable

“I’m always… w-waiting. For when I make too many mistakes, disobey too many times… a-and then you’ll, you’ll… get rid of me. I’ve already messed up so much. I feel like… all I have left to give you, earn what you’ve given me, is… me.”

>She almost swallows the last word before it gets out.
>she lies motionless, closing her eyes and letting some tears trickle down her cheeks.

>Your pupils, already wide from the low light, still manage to get wider.
>Instantly, you pull your hand off of her and let it fall to the couch.
>She feels it leave her, and her head turns to you
>glistening eyes gazing at you with an intensity you do not expect

>You know what she means.
>It’s the way she said it.
>Suddenly, you have flashbacks to that night, when you showed her the bed she would be sleeping on
>When you pet her then
>What had happened...

>You shake your head at her, and hold up your hands disarmingly
>Speaking like a hostage negotiator, you try to dissuade her away from these thoughts

“Applejack, remember? Remember what I said, hon? I’m not going to rape you, never, ever. Please, hon, don’t think that w-”

“But what if… I… DO w-want to?”

>She cuts you off, and the room falls silent.
>Applejack, as soon as the sentence leaves her mouth, lowers her head, but her eyes actually stay on you.

>You sit there, gobsmacked, for several seconds.
>You begin to stutter, head tilting with confusion, and you slouch back in the couch
>trying to decide if you really did hear it correctly
>And when you register it, you still can’t believe it
>What does she… how could she want...

>Crouched next to you, Applejack’s eyes flicker, and she stares ahead of her for a time
>like she’s coming to some kind of realization
>She blinks slowly, and you hear her move

>And then, Applejack inches toward you
>She practical crawls, with her nose in the couch and her legs audibly shuffling on the couch cushion
>and you feel unnerved when you see her glance toward your thighs
>She begins to breathe heavily, and her voice sounds almost like she’s sleepwalking

“You… you’d be different, right? You wouldn’t be so rough on me…”

>Oh fuck no.
>This had to stop, now
>You reply quickly, and firmly, trying not to shout.

“Applejack, no. Stop…”

“I won’t mess anything up this time, I’ll be good… I know I could still be good for you…”

>She talks like she’s in a trance
>Almost like she’s in another world, lost
>It’s actually scary.
>You raise your voice

“No. Stop it Applejack, right now...”

“Please, let me give s-something, anything back, f-for what you did… I know I ain’t got nothing else…”

>She inches toward you again
>mouth more loosely held open as she looks between your legs
>Her hoof touches your thigh, and she pulls herself in

“Then I wouldn’t be so afraid anymore, i-if you just…”

“APPLEJACK, STOP IT THIS INSTANT!”

>You grab her hoof on top of your leg, and hold it tightly
>Your voice cracks with panic
>and actually, even a little bit of anger...
>but not at her.

>As soon as you grab her, Applejack yelps and seizes up completely.
>Her hoof tugs away from you on reflex, but you manage to keep your hold
>and with her other hoof, she covers her head, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth.

>you know Applejack is waiting to be struck.
>your thoughts go back to the first night she was with you
>that horrible trance-like state, as she went to unzip your pants
>you hit her then, a good bop on the nose
>and the way she looks now, you relive your regret for striking her all over again

>but luckily, after a moment passes, that cringing tension ebbs away
>her hoof softens in your hand
>and rather than resist you, she falls still
>you gaze down at her with your mouth agape, and feel that familiar ache in your heart

>Her hoof stays over her head protectively, but the tremors in her legs from bracing herself have subsided.
>In turn, you also soften your grip on her hoof
>Unthinkingly, you rub your thumb up and down her fetlock
>In response, Applejack’s eyes flutter
>her breath catches in her chest, and she gives a small hiccup
>and she leans her head into your holding hand, until her snout is touching your wrist

>You can feel her breathing on your hand
>soft, gentle breaths as she miraculously begins to calm down
>she’s just decided to submit to your hold on her, and simply lies still

>You are still not sure what to say right now
>some of the most awkward silences of your entire life have occurred within the last two days
>Applejack was just so fundamentally damaged, the idea of helping her truly did feel overwhelming
>but you could never tell her that.
>She already feels enough guilt over simply being fed and given a bed
>telling her how difficult she is to deal with would destroy anything that’s left of her.

>But as you let the silence stretch on, mind drawing a blank on what to say or do next, Applejack is actually the first to talk.
>She shivers and raises her head, staring straight ahead at the wall

“Are you… going to hit me, Master?”

>there it is
>hearing that question, you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut
>you wish you could take back that strike you gave her
>she’s afraid of you
>God, the way this pony makes your heart ache…

“No, no, Applejack. I’m not, you don’t have to worry, ok?”

>There’s a little surprise in her eyes when you deliver her the “good news”
>but she believes you
>She sullenly nods her head, and puts her nose back into the sofa
>And all the while, your hand continues to hold her hoof, finger softly stroking her fetlock

>You refuse to let the room fall silent
>not after something like that just happened
>it would be torture for the both of you, left with your own thoughts
>You are about to say something…
>...but she beats you to it.

“I’m sorry, th-that I’m so… disgusting, Master. I know I ain’t real pretty, b-but I promise if you ever w...want me to, I’ll do anything you ask.”

>Oh, good LORD.
>Maybe you SHOULD bop her on the nose, again.
>You don’t know how you’re going to make her get the hint
>And now, she thinks she’s ugly, too?
>where did that…

>but then you realize why, and your heart just sinks further than you ever thought it could
>you turned her offer down, to use her body for your own sick enjoyment.
>in her tortured mind, that must mean you find her unattractive, or unworthy
>find her disgusting...

>Heart pounding, you let go of her hoof, and it gently falls to your thigh.
>Applejack’s ears twitch, and she gives a tiny flinch, meekly looking up at you
>expectantly, like she’s afraid she did something wrong
>You smile sadly down at her, and brush a strand of her mane out of her face

“Not pretty?”

>You say, staring into her enormous emerald green eyes
>there’s a tremendous amount of emotion and depth you can see there
>and her mane, the way it falls in soft waves over her head and neck…
>You shake your head, continuing to smile.

“Not pretty? Hon, that isn’t true at all. There’s not one ugly thing about you. And you are most CERTAINLY not ‘disgusting’ either.”

>Your smile begins to widen, and you feel the sensation of butterflies fluttering in your stomach
>Applejack stares unblinkingly, wordlessly back at you, eyes unwavering
>you can see some contemplation in them
>almost like she’s examining your eyes, your face, for signs of dishonesty
>but she won’t find any

>Then, that’s when a sudden urge hits you
>you must say, you’ve never been a super, well, “touchy feely” kind of guy
>but something about this idea feels so right, so necessary

>you take a deep breath, and wrap your arms all the way around her, and with a grunt, hoist her up onto your chest in a big bear hug

>Applejack gasps, and her hooves do a spazzy little flail around for a moment out of surprise
>but you’ve really put all your strength into this one
>She’s gonna get a nice big hug no matter what
>Master’s orders

>You hug her with her head resting on your shoulder, and her belly pressed against yours
>her rear legs and hindquarters stretch away from you, and were you to drop her, she’d be lying on her side across your lap
>You feel the tension in her fearful body, and while a cautious part of you asks what the hell you are doing, you push it to the background

>You clasp your hand around her mane, and pull her in close, resting your cheek on her shoulder
>your other arm is wrapped all the way around her middle, and it keep her whole body aside from her lower half close to you
>You just breathe, and hold her closely and tightly
>you’d cross your fingers if you weren’t holding onto her
>you hope this doesn’t make things worse

>Applejack, while she shivers at first, and her muscles are harder than rock, they quickly begin to soften
>the feeling of her melting in your arms makes your heart flutter and another small smile spread on your lips
>that there’s just enough trust between you and her
>that she knows you won’t harm her

>Applejack’s heavy breathing slows, and her rigid back legs also relax
>submitting to your hold of her
>and then, you feel her legs wrap around you, too, and they squeeze just as hard
>You carefully rub her between her shoulders, on her withers, up and down
>short strokes, just in a comforting gesture
>Applejack gasps softly, and something tells you it’s not a displeasured one
>you close your eyes, and speak softly beside her ear

“Applejack, inside and out, I… I think you’re beautiful.”

>You feel shocked that such a word even leaves your mouth.
>But it’s like you weren’t even aware of the fact you said it
>what were you even going to say, anyway?
>surely it couldn’t have been that!
>Surely someone like you couldn’t have actually meant to say something so dramatic, or… or…

>Your train of thought is derailed, though, when you feel a shudder against you.
>and then another one, followed by another
>an audible puff of air through Applejack’s nose...

>She’s crying.

>The grip around you tightens, and you feel her pull in closer to you, and a repressed, low pitched whimper leaves her
>The sound of it is enough to almost rip your heart out of your chest
>You give a gentle shush, and resume your hand rubbing up and down her back

>But there’s no holding her back.
>No shushing is going to keep her at bay
>she sobs, much louder this time, and you feel the tip of her wet snout touch the nape of your neck and her warm breathing on your skin
>you feel her lungs heave and spasm, and she cringes against you
>blurriness begins to fill your vision, and you blink away a forming tear in your eye

>Her voice peeps out, and goosebumps rise over your whole body

“No… no one’s ever said that before.”

>You hug her tighter.
>despite everything that’s happened to her, for some reason, that confession hits you just as hard
>you really have been the only one who’s ever shown her kindness since she arrived here…

>but what about before, back in her old homeland?
>what about…

>Something stops you from going down that train of thought.
>your gut tenses, and the muscles in your jaw bulge with a momentary hard grind of your teeth
>and you shove the thought out of your mind, without fully understanding why…

>Your focus quickly moves back to Applejack, the pony shivering slightly in your arms.
>a hand glides through her mane, and you smile down at her.

“Well, it’s true hon. Never doubt that.”

>You pull her in even closer, and rest your head on her shoulder while hers rests on yours
>Applejack sniffs, and her very powerful grip tightens around you
>your smile widens.

>the two of you then fall quiet, and only the sounds of soft breathing and a faint breeze outside can be heard.

--------

>When the morning sun rises higher in the sky, the full extent of what happened last night is revealed.
>The bright light of the sun leaves nothing to the imagination.

>Debris is scattered everywhere outside
>branches, sheet metal, bricks, stones, you name it
>a large, heavy tree branch lay across your backyard, mostly stripped of leaves
>evidence that you had been barely spared a direct hit from the tornado.

>in your house there is no electricity, but the light coming through your windows shows off all of the dust and small particles of debris, and branches all around your living room
>two of the windows are shattered, and the pieces of glass are all around the other side of your room
>it’s going to be annoying to clean up, but...

>you have nothing to complain about.
>You and Applejack escaped death.

>It’s a miracle you weren’t hit.
>when you once again stepped outside your back door, the picture from last night had become fully put together
>the houses on the other far street were torn to shreds, crumbling to their very foundations
>Some further in the distance even had basically nothing but foundations left
>You could have sworn that there were more trees, but stripped up vegetation and muddy soil are all that remain in some spots
>you could still hear siren sounds in the distance, in multiple directions
>Hopefully, the sounds of people being rescued…

>perhaps you should have done something more to help
>but what happened last night had knocked the wind out of you
>memories of the body being carried away, covered in a sheet
>the little girl with a piece of wood impaling her chest
>the blood
>the cries of pain…

>the day felt aimless.
>The muggy humidity seeped into the house through the broken windows, bringing sweat to your brow as you swept more debris into the dustpan
>You had already filled one contractor bag to the brim, and were halfway through your second bag
>There was still a lot more cleanup to go, too

>But lying on the couch, fast asleep, was Applejack
>you had managed to successfully get up without waking her up
>and despite the crinkling of plastic from the contractor bag and the steady swish of your broom on the floor, she remains dead to the world
>a victim of total exhaustion

>you decided to let her sleep for as long as she wants
>you can clean this up by yourself, no problem
>it’s the least you could do

>the most you can do is check your phone for news updates since you have no internet
>and sure enough, news of this catastrophic event is starting to be posted online
>and apparently, this is not the only tornado to have occurred, either
>this was an outbreak level event

>a cluster of tornadoes in your region, both overnight and into the early morning, have been reported
>at least two fatalities have been reported, and authorities state that there is likely going to be more than that
>this is horrendous
>you’ve been in bad storms before, and this wasn’t even your first tornado outbreak
>you live in the South, where this kind of thing happens too commonly
>but this is the first time it’s been so close to home

>you had already messaged the guys about everything
>asking them if they are safe
>every one of them had replied with a yes, which gave you a great deal of relief
>but still, you had cancelled the day’s work given the circumstances
>More storms were projected to come through, you had read on your phone
>hopefully, none of them would be like this again

>as you clean more debris from the kitchen floor, your mind keeps drifting over to the little girl you’d rescued from the rubble this morning
>the wooden plank impaled through her chest like a spear, the blood…
>but worst of all, the cries of distress and pain
>you wanted to believe the paramedics had been telling the truth about her chances…

>An audible yawn comes from the couch
>you freeze mid sweep into the dustpan, not moving a muscle
>but it was too late. You see her head lift up from the sofa cushion, and she looks around with a whippy motion of her head from side to side
>like she was suddenly awake, and startled to see you weren’t sleeping beside her

>sure enough, Applejack turns her head around, to see you crouched down with the dustpan in your hands and a half-filled trash bag on the floor beside you
>the look she gives you is almost one of disappointment, and she cocks her head to the side

>”A-Anon? What’re you doin? Are you, I mean… here, let me help ya…”

>of course, this would be her reaction to seeing you do work
>this pony...
>Applejack rolls off the couch before you can even say anything in response, and she walks over to where you are crouched
>you hold up a hand to stop her, shaking your head softly

“Whoa, wait a sec there hon. You don’t have to…”

>she was already picking up leaves in her mouth, seeming to ignore your protests
>Applejack made no eye contact with you, opting instead to let her actions do the talking
>as usual...

>truthfully, you had been about to demand she go lay back down
>but seeing her picking things up one by one, dropping them into the open contractor bag in the middle of the floor, seeing her hard at work after only just waking up…
>it made your heart float in your chest

>she really was such a great pony...

>your hand, formerly held up in a halting gesture, fell back to your side
>Applejack noticed it out of the corner of her eye, gaze darting over to you for a brief moment before she went right back on task
>however, the inefficiency of using her mouth to pick up individual pieces of litter were readily obvious
>and you once again held up your hand

“Hold up, just a sec, hon… here…”

>You get up from the ground, clutching the dustpan in your left hand
>you turn it around so the handle faces her
>Applejack, looking comical with a few dirty leaves in her mouth… you can’t imagine they taste very good… seems to understand what you’re getting at
>the silly pony spits the leaves out of her mouth, and takes hold of the dustpan instead
>you smile down at her

“Here, Applejack. You hold, I’ll sweep. How’s that?”

>you watch her face closely
>and to your delight, for just the briefest moment, you see her eyes light up
>and the teeniest little smile creeps up on her lips
>she talks with the metal dustpan handle in her mouth, and gives a little nod of her head
>”Yesh, Ano’n...’”

>There’s a good pony.
>You nod your head approvingly.
“Good. Now, let’s get started.”

>And so, with sweat already dripping down your brows from the humidity, heat, and lack of AC, the two of you get to work.

------------------

>It was amazing how much of a roll you had both gotten onto once you started.
>you’d barely even needed to direct her
>it was like she already knew what you wanted, where you wanted to go, everything
>like she could read your thoughts

>By evening, you had both managed to collect quite the pile of trash in a set of contractor bags, now piled high on the back patio
>It wouldn’t repair the damage done to your siding and windows, but honestly, you didn’t even care.
>You saw what the tornado did to the houses behind yours.
>You and Applejack would have been killed if it had hit you.

>Your electricity was still out, and it just occurred to you that there wouldn’t be any for likely the next long while.
>maybe even a few days…
>and then it hits you that your water is also going to be affected, too
>whatever is left in your hot water heater was all that was going to be left, so hot showers were going to be out of the question…

>And your fridge, too.
>You were going to have to keep it closed for as long as possible, only taking out food to…
>But wait. Your stovetop isn’t going to work, either.
>Electric stoves…

>Hopefully, your favorite takeout places weren’t destroyed by all of these tornadoes...

>And… you had both just worked up quite a sweat in the muggy house
>with no AC during the summer
>And now that you had a chance to sit down and relax, you realized just how hot it is inside, still
>Across from you, Applejack lays face down in her armchair, curled up with her head rolled to the side, and sweat trickling down her face and body
>She’s breathing softly, but you can tell she is tired

>Damn, you need some water. Both of you do.
>With a puff, you get up from the sofa and make your way over to the sink
>You look over your shoulder at Applejack, who doesn’t look up at you
>She’s too busy relaxing, trying to cool her body off with swishes of her tail
>Your gaze lingers on her for a moment, and you can’t help but smile

>It was a good day of work.
>Despite everything that had just happened, you had to admit that doing something as simple as cleaning your house of debris had been good to get your mind off of all the horror that had happened today
>And once more, you got a good idea of your new little pony’s work ethic
>and it was impressive.

>You keep your smile as you fill up two tall glasses of water in the tap, and you walk back over to her
>Applejack’s ears perk up, and she lifts her head up a little bit to look up at you
>Smiling down at her, you hold out a full glass of water to her
>Her pupils widen instantly, and her dry lips part

“Here, hon. Drink up.”

>Applejack takes a moment, but she doesn’t keep you waiting very long
>She pushes herself up from the seat and takes the glass from you
>You watch as she takes a ginger sip from the glass…
>Only to then tilt the glass down all the way, and down the entire contents in a matter of seconds.

>Applejack lowers the now empty glass, and looks up at you sheepishly
>a little blush shows on her cheeks, and she flicks her tail
>”S-Sorry, Anon, I uh… didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

>You blink in surprise, but then give a little laugh
>the blush on Applejack’s cheeks deepens, and she aims her eyes at the floor
>You take a hearty gulp from your glass, and then you take the glass from her and walk back to the sink
>You cock your head to the side, toward the sink

“Tell you what. Let’s just both fill our glasses at the sink until we’ve had our fill, okay?”

------------------

>While you were both no longer thirsty, a hard day’s work had managed to give you quite the appetite
>And you still couldn’t cook any of your food.
>you decision to outfit an electric stove had clearly been a mistake in hindsight...

>You may be an outdoors man, but… you never realized how dependent on electricity you were until it was gone.
>But still, you were lucky to even be alive right now.
>No electricity was a problem, but it was nothing in the grand scheme of things.
>so, if you needed to eat something, then you guessed it was going to have to be somewhere else...

>you didn’t like to eat too much takeout, even though it was so easy to fall into the habit
>and doing the work you do? Weight gain, getting fat, was practically impossible
>but it was still expensive, much more expensive than packing your own lunch

>that being said, you still have a couple of favorite places
>and given today’s situation, you think…

“Hey, Applejack? Are you hungry?”

>Applejack looked up at you from where she lay on the sofa
>Her huge, expressive eyes transfix you to your chair
>and right away, just the mentioning of food seems to make her pupils widen until her irises are barely visible
>you smile inwardly

>Yep, she was hungry alright.
>You smile as she nods her head, slowly
>”Y-Yes, Anon. I’m… famished, actually.”

>The way she says it makes you grin with amusement
>almost like she’s admitting guilt of some sort
>it was oddly… well, adorable.
>You nod your head, and stand up from the chair

“Well, alright then. I guess we’ll have to go and get some food then, won’t we? That is, if some places are still even open after...”

>you trail off with a frown.
>and just like that, all the positive vibes seemed to go right out the window
>however, you do recover quickly… although not quickly enough to stop Applejack’s ears from pinning back on her head
>You take a deep breath, and put on a smile.
>Positive thoughts, right? Positive thoughts…

“I mean… never mind. Don’t worry about that. I know a place you’ll like…”

>It looked like Applejack was going to take her first ride in your truck a little bit sooner than you had thought!