Once upon a time, there were two married ponies Bright Mac and Pear Butter who lived with their mother, the housewife.
One day, the house wife said something unforgivable to her beloved daughter Pear Butter. Overhearing, her son, saddened by what the house wife had said, took several baked goods and left with his wife, leaving behind a trail of crumbs to follow back home.
Unfortunately, the crumbs were eaten by birds and Bright Mac and Pear Butter were lost. Wandering the woods without direction, they came upon a cottage owned by a witch.
The witch tried to eat them, but Bright Mac and Pear Butter managed to trick the witch and return home.
The housewife, very apologetic for the horrible things she had said, welcomed them back with a heartfelt apology just glad they were safe.
Then they lived happily ever after.
Applejack stopped through the woods, wet grass squelching under hooves from the recent spring rains. She snorted every so often, muttering darkly under her breath as she followed a literal trail of pie crumbs deeper into the White Tail Woods.
Granny had run off into the woods. Again. The fact that it apparently hadn’t been the first time had been the topic of one of several rather heated arguments she had had with her brother since she had returned from Manehattan. Though ‘argument’ was a bit of a strong descriptor since their conversations had been mostly her yelling and him just replying with either a facial expression, an ‘eeyup’, or an ‘eenope’. She certainly hadn’t been fond of her brother’s nonstop yapping, but she preferred that over whatever this newest habit was.
It had only been three weeks since she’d come back and the only reason she never noticed this habit of Granny’s yet was that Mac would always go with her early in the morning to do sun knows what. All Applejack knew was that Granny left with saddlebags stuffed with pie crumbs and that she returned with them empty.
Apparently, the bonehead had slept in that morning and granny had gone off without him. When Applejack had woken up her brother to ask about where Granny was, he’d explained her Sunday habit. When she’d panickedly asked why, Mac had just told her that it would be easier to just go ask Granny herself.
Which is why Applejack was stomping through the woods. Mac might have been lenient, but she was going to get Granny to knock off this nonsense. She was too old to be gallivanting off in the forest. Besides, what could she possibly need to do in White Tail Woods with a bag of pie crumbs every Sunday? It was ridiculous!
Tartarus or high water, Applejack would get her answer then drag her stubborn Granny back home and tell her to knock it off.
Her ears perked as she heard humming from up ahead. Racing ahead, Applejack stumbled upon Granny, humming a wordless tune and tossing pie crumbs behind her as she went.
“Granny!” Applejack shouted.
“Good mornin’, Applejack,” Granny called back over her shoulder. “Come to help?”
“No, I’ve come take you back home.” Applejack stomped forward until she was next to Granny. “What are you even doin’ out here?!”
“Ain’t it obvious? Leaving a trail for your Ma and Pa to follow back home.”
“Ma and— are you out of your mind?! They’re dead!” Applejack exclaimed.
“Don’t speak ill of your parents,” Granny chided. “What will they think if they hear you saying that?”
“I— What? Granny what are you goin’ on about? You sound more confused than Aunt Orange when she sees kumquats in the market.”
“I’m leaving a trail of pie crumbs for Bright and Pear to follow back to the farm since they got lost fighting the witch.”
Applejack stared intensely at her grandmother, her mouth in a firm line as several questions vied for her attention. She decided to ask the obvious one first. “How are they supposed to come back if they’re dead?”
“Because they ain’t dead,” Granny retorted with a harsh glare. “Thought I told you to mind what you say?”
“Are you—” Applejack shook her head. “You know what? I’ll play along. How are they supposed to follow a trial of pie crumbs? They’ll get swept away by the weather or eaten by critters.”
“That’s why I redo the trail every Sunday using leftover crusts from Saturday.”
“Right. And the witch? Whose that?”
“The one that tried to kill them when they got lost, but failed,” Granny explained in a patient tone as if she were explaining a simple fact to a foal. “Tried to get’em good but there ain’t no way my son and daughter would fall for some old hag’s tricks.”
“Okay, so let me see if I got all of this right. Ma and Pa got lost, defeated some witch and, to help them get back, you’re gonna leave a trail of pie crumbs in the middle of the woods for them to follow?”
Granny nodded.
“And you’re just gonna keep doin’ this until they show up?”
Applejack took her hat off, breathed in deeply, shoved her mouth through the open end and screamed into it.
“You’re gonna wreck your daddy’s hat doin’ that,” Granny commented.
Shoving her hat roughly back onto her head, Applejack growled in frustration. “Course I’m gonna wreck it! Specially with that load of hooey!”
“You can’t speak to your—”
“I can speak how I want when my granny is acting nuts! And you know what? Go wander around in the woods!” Applejack threw her hoof in a random direction. “Get lost! See if I care!”
Turning away, Applejack began to trot back the way she came.
“Applejack, where are you going?!” Granny called out after her.
“Home! I ain’t dealing with your malarky, Granny!” Applejack shouted back.
“Come back here! That is no way to treat your grandmother! Applejack. Applejack!”
Ignoring Granny’s calls, she continued her trek through leaves and dirt on her way back home. When she could hear Granny no longer and was sure no else was around to hear her, Applejack cried, letting the wind swallow the sound whole.
Tears poured from her eyes as frustrated screams escaped her throat. She pummelled the earth below her hooves, willing it to make more sense, to right her life back on its correct course.
When all her anger and sadness were finally spent, when only a feeling of numbness remained, she collapsed onto her rump and stared up at the blue sky overhead, her hat falling off and gently drifting down to the ground. It was a gorgeous morning. Fluffy white clouds, bright sunshine, and a forecast of clear skies for the day.
She hated it.