Applejack, Tree Hugger, and Metaphysical Philosophy of the Aura


                                            >The second-to-last barrel of her delivery of a dozen barrels of apples to Tree Hugger was just being loaded onto Tree Hugger’s wood cart when suddenly, while she was pushing the barrel that was on her back onto the lip of the cart, she saw the green hooves of her client stopping before her.

                                            >A second after looking up, she was wiping the sweat from her forehead and sipping on the bottle of apple juice that Tree Hugger had brought her.

                                            >Tree Hugger sat down by the cart and, seeing opportunity for a short break, Applejack settled next to her.

                                            >It was a mild, sunny afternoon and they were both in the backyard of Fluttershy’s cottage.

                                            >After hearing Applejack wearily exhale, Tree Hugger broke the silence.

                                            >“Thanks again for offering to load my delivery,” she said.

                                            >“No problem,” Applejack said.

                                            >“It would have taken me all day, if I had done it myself,” Tree Hugger said. “So this is really groovy.”

                                            >“Anything for a friend,” Applejack said.

                                            >Tree Hugger smiled and looked at her. Her face was pointed fully towards the sun and her eyes were closed.

                                            >Then she took a long drink and finished the bottle of juice.

                                            >“Do you want me to get you another drink?” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >Applejack politely refused.

                                            >She rose up, went to her cart and then tossed the bottle into the back where it rolled along the bumpy wood before crashing into the small glass pile of others she had already finished.

                                            >She stepped up onto the cart and moved towards the back to get the last barrel.

                                            >Tree Hugger had come to the side of the cart, and, when Applejack noticed her, she thought of something.

                                            >“Say,” Applejack said, “what are all these apples for anyhow, if you don’t mind my asking?”

                                            >“They’re for making fruit jam,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >“You’re going to take them back to your commune with you and make jam?”

                                            >“And jellies, as well as other natural fruit-based spreads,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >“Well if that’s what you wanted, we make both jam and jelly at Sweet Apple Acres.”

                                            >Tree Hugger smiled but was silent.

                                            >Applejack used her head to start pushing the barrel towards the lip of the cart.

                                            >When she had finished and hopped back down to the ground she was breathing heavily.

                                            >“We make the jam at the commune so that we can go into the city and sell it at the farmer’s market,” Tree Hugger said. “Not for any profit, of course. Just enough to pay the bare minimum of our land and living expenses.”

                                            >Applejack started for Tree Hugger’s cart to make sure that there was room for the barrel she was bringing over.

                                            >“The making of jam can be a very therapeutic experience for some of our residents,” Tree Hugger said whilst heeling Applejack. “Engaging yourself for an extended period of time in one simple yet time consuming activity can help relieve stress and refocus your inner self.”

                                            >“Well how about that,” Applejack said. “That could be why Granny is always moving so slow, and why it seems like she’s got an answer for everything.”

                                            >Applejack started pushing the barrels in Tree Hugger’s cart closer together.

                                            >Tree Hugger had walked away and went inside Fluttershy’s kitchen, but she still heard Applejack grunting until she shut the door behind her.

                                            >Fluttershy left her half-chopped carrots on the counter and had gone to the fridge when she had heard the door open.

                                            >When Tree Hugger saw her she was bent over, her head in the fridge and her tail was swishing slowly from side to side.

                                            >“Oh, I don’t think there’s any apple juice left,” Fluttershy said.

                                            >“That’s fine,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >While Fluttershy, leaning on the door of her refrigerator, sighed with relief Tree Hugger went to the kitchen window and kept watching Applejack.

                                            >“I’ll go to the store sometime today and buy some more,” Fluttershy said.

                                            >“The brand you’re buying is a good one,” Tree Hugger said. “There are hardly any artificial sweeteners or preservatives in the juice.”

                                            >Fluttershy closed her fridge satisfactorily. “Well that’s very nice to know.”

                                            >She noticed Tree Hugger had been watching her friend. “Is Applejack finished?”

                                            >“No, not yet,” Tree Hugger said. “But almost.”

                                            >Tree Hugger went away from the window and saw Fluttershy had some carrot juice simmering in a pot on the stove.

                                            >“I’m making carrot soup for Angel’s lunch,” Fluttershy said.

                                            >She took a wooden spoon in her mouth and stirred the juice.

                                            >Small wisps of steam spun up into the air before they faded away with distance.

                                            >Tree Hugger went back to the window and pleasantly watched as Applejack was easing the bottom of the last barrel onto her back.

                                            >“Fluttershy, all of your friends have such wonderful auras,” Tree Hugger said. “It really is a righteous sight to behold.”

                                            >“Oh, um, well thank you,” Fluttershy said politely. “I’m glad.”

                                            >“A pony’s aura is the metaphysical light which surrounds them. It’s like the light a unicorn’s horn makes when using magic, but invisible to the eye. It’s made up of the combined energy of the body, mind and soul.”

                                            >Fluttershy nodded slowly. “It’s invisible?”

                                            >“My special talent, my special connection with both living things and the earth’s elements, helps me to see them. You see, many of the ponies that seek out my commune are ponies that feel lost in their lives. For many reasons, they feel that modern society lacks the means for them to fulfill their destinies. I see them when they come in. Their auras are thin and weak, like burnt candle wicks that need to be lit again. By living simply on the commune, I can help them refocus their lives.”

                                            >“Well that’s wonderful,” Fluttershy said. “To be honest, this whole time I thought that you were just making tasty jam.”

                                            >“There are other therapeutic exercises as well. Some of them are much more complex than jam making, but definitely not as productive.”

                                            >“Productive to the therapy, you mean?”

                                            >“Yes, yes, that’s what I meant.”

                                            >Just as Fluttershy turned around to look at her friend, she felt something tugging on her tail.

                                            >She knew without looking that it was Angel and that he was leering impatiently at her.

                                            >She apologized to him and moved distractedly to her cutting board so she could finish chopping the carrots needed for his soup.

                                            >Tree Hugger watched as Applejack began easing the barrel onto her cart.

                                            >“Applejack is righteous,” Tree Hugger said. “She lives so simply, on her farm with her family, and yet her life holds such fulfillment. Her aura is as bright, strong and pure as any pony’s that has lived a life of unsullied values.”

                                            >Fluttershy kept chopping carrots but agreed mechanically to the sounds of Tree Hugger’s words.

                                            >“Back on the commune I developed some psychological exercises that I use to determine the source of any pony’s spiritual crisis. The exercises help to reach deep down into the subconscious so that one can find their core beliefs and values. But now I wonder if I can use such methods for completely different purposes, to build successful case studies of ponies that have always felt they’ve lived fully.”

                                            >Tree Hugger felt her eyes grow to purpose just as Applejack got the bottom of the barrel to sit firmly on the edge of the cart.

                                            >Fluttershy had taken her cutting board in her mouth and was pushing the carrot slices into the pot when Tree Hugger turned around.

                                            >“Do you think she would mind?” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >Fluttershy shrugged in response, but she was looking at Angel, standing with his arms crossed by the door, and smiling at him through the cutting board.

                                            >Squinting, he pointed to his eyes and then to her before hopping into the other room.

                                            >Soon Fluttershy was again stirring the liquid in the pot.

                                            >Tree Hugger had left the room briefly and returned with a small silk pouch that she kept her bits in.

                                            >The silk had been dipped in brown dye once but the color had run and gave to the pouch a texture that suggested that it was made from mud.

                                            >“She’s done now,” Tree Hugger said. “I’m going to go pay her.”

                                            >“I don’t think she’ll mind, but she can be very busy sometimes,” Fluttershy said. “Pinkie Pie was hoping to spend some time with you before you have to leave.”

                                            >“We’ll meet,” Tree Hugger said. “I can feel it.”

                                            >“Um, good. Oh, and, um, what about meeting him?”

                                            >Tree Hugger nodded, knowing who she was talking about.

                                            >It was the human, and she had been interested in meeting him at some point during her visit.

                                            >Ever since Fluttershy first wrote her about him she had wanted to see for herself just how well an extraterrestrial being could adapt to the environment in a land far removed from his mother planet.

                                            >Even though she had only heard good accounts for his wellbeing from Fluttershy, she had secret concerns that his soul could not ever really cope with his new life.

                                            >Last she had heard he had stopped staying and working at Sweet Apple Acres, where he had been for five months, so he could live independently in town.

                                            >Fluttershy still had half a can of carrot juice left after making Angel’s soup.

                                            >As she reached for it, so she could cover it with plastic wrap and store it in the fridge, Tree Hugger stepped forward to the counter.

                                            >She blocked Fluttershy’s hoof with her head as she squinted at the can, her nose close to the label.

                                            >Tree Hugger turned the can around and scanned intently the ingredients listed on the label.

                                            >Fluttershy’s front hooves fidgeted on the floor.

                                            >Finally Tree Hugger turned to her slowly.

                                            >“This brand of carrot juice is full of toxins,” she said.

                                            >Fluttershy swallowed stiffly. “Toxins?”

                                            >“That’s just a catch-all term for any unnatural chemicals added by the manufacturer.”

                                            >“Chemicals?” Fluttershy looked warily into her pot at the simmering soup. “Oh dear. Are they bad for you?”

                                            >“Not at first, but prolonged ingestion of certain preservatives, growth hormones, artificial flavors and dyes have been linked to all sorts of later health problems. In the worst cases you’ll get cancer.”

                                            >“Cancer!”

                                            >“In the worst cases. But I’ve also heard of organ failure, too.”

                                            >The loud and dull clap of the wooden cart’s gate being closed echoed into the kitchen.

                                            >Tree Hugger started for the door. “I can tell you more later. Right now I want to see Applejack.”

                                            >Fluttershy stared blankly at the door as it slammed shut behind her friend.

                                            >Her pupils were shrinking and there were beads of sweat coming onto her forehead.

                                            >From the corner of her eye she saw Angel standing in the doorway. He was wearing his blue bunny bib and looking expectantly at the pot.

                                            >In a second Fluttershy shook her head, hovered briskly to the pot, and then went to the sink and started dumping the soup down the drain.

                                            >The steam rose up into her watery eyes.

                                            >She could feel Angel pulling on her tail and hear him squeaking in confused agony at the sight of her actions.

                                            >But she only sobbed quietly and said, “I want you to live, my Angel! Celestia as my witness, you will live!”

                                            >Applejack had covered the cart with a tarp, so that the apples would be protected through the night, and tied it down with rope.

                                            >She was pulling the knot tight when she heard the bits clanking together in Tree Hugger’s bag.

                                            >She let go of it and turned around.

                                            >“I was starting to think I’d have to come in and get you. That for me?” She was looking at the bag now.

                                            >They went to the gate of Applejack’s cart and counted out the coins owed to her.

                                            >When Applejack realized that she had forgotten her bit bag, she took off her Stetson, brushed the coins into it from off of the gate, and then put her hat on in one swift move.

                                            >Looking up, she wiggled her head and made sure that the coins could not slip out.

                                            >When afterwards she saw Tree Hugger’s amused smile, she said:

                                            >“This ain’t the first time that I’ve had to do this, either.”

                                            >She closed the gate of her cart.

                                            >“Well it was a pleasure doing business with you,” Applejack said, turning to Tree Hugger. “I hope the rest of your stay here is fun.”

                                            >Tree Hugger thanked her and put her hoof forward. They shook hooves.

                                            >Tree Hugger tilted her head slightly while looking at her.

                                            >“Do you know what I do on the commune, Applejack?”

                                            >“Well it’s a farming commune, right? You till the ground, plant your seeds, and water so you can raise your own food and such.”

                                            >“Do you remember what I said about the process of making jam earlier, and how it can be therapeutic and help refocus one’s self?”

                                            >“I guess so,” Applejack answered slowly.

                                            >Tree Hugger nodded. Applejack exhaled.

                                            >When Tree Hugger started talking, they both ended up standing there in the heat until beads of sweat covered their faces.

                                            >The beads grew into large drops that trailed down and collected at their chins, eventually dripping off.

                                            >At first Tree Hugger had only wanted to tell Applejack enough to get her to agree, but the more she spoke of Applejack being the ideal kind of pony, the model for truly whole spiritual living, the more distant Applejack seemed to become.

                                            >The light in Tree Hugger’s eyes dimmed.

                                            >Soon she was arguing for such trivial matters as time while Applejack was securing her cart harness around her barrel.

                                            >“The exercises are very short and not at all physically draining,” she said.

                                            >“I’m sorry, Tree Hugger, but I got a lot of work that still needs doing at Sweet Apple Acres.”

                                            >Tree Hugger could feel their minds clashing while their spirits sank like seeds in mud and their roots reached in futility for ground.

                                            >“But you can learn a lot about yourself through these exercises,” she said, “even those that have lived a life free from doubt and regret can reach new insights.”

                                            >Applejack stopped.

                                            >She stood still for a moment and Tree Hugger watched her ear flick towards some vague, invisible interest that must have been in her words.

                                            >A bright white flash of insight hummed in their cores, so intensely that she could feel it reaching all the way down through the ground and into the center of the earth.

                                            >“These days the only new reaches that are there to be explored are the boundaries that exist in the hearts of those around us,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >“I got to go now,” Applejack said. “I’ll see you next time, okay?”

                                            >Applejack did not look at her. Tree Hugger watched her go silently.

                                            >Before Applejack was out of sight Tree Hugger saw that she was slowing down, as if in thought, but then she shook her head and kept going until she had gone.

                                            >Tree Hugger’s mind was in a tangle of questions as she and Fluttershy were on their way to the market, walking along by the green valleys outside Ponyville.

                                            >Fluttershy was saying something to her, but she could hardly listen.

                                            >Thinking of how she had failed with Applejack, she began to doubt what her instincts had told her about Applejack when she first entered the pure orchard air of Sweet Apple Acres that morning, and what she felt had been confirmed when she had watched how honestly she had worked when loading her cart up with barrels of apples.

                                            >Any pony that truly lived that way should be spiritually free, and yet Applejack had rejected her offer, and Tree Hugger now wondered why.

                                            >Was she perhaps missing some crucial detail about Applejack that she never could have known about?

                                            >She listened briefly to Fluttershy’s self-conscious monologue.

                                            >“I never in my life would want to knowingly poison my Angel, but now he wants me to get him ice cream. I don’t like it when I have to give him dessert for dinner in the first place, but now all this talk about toxins has got me all anxious about buying him anything.”

                                            >“I’m worried about Applejack,” Tree Hugger said suddenly.

                                            >“Applejack? But what about the ice cream?”

                                            >Tree Hugger’s ears flicked Fluttershy’s way. She turned with full interest.

                                            >“What ice cream?”

                                            >“I want to know, is it bad for Angel?”

                                            >“Oh.” Tree Hugger sighed. “Well, yes. Technically, ice cream is full of growth hormones that alter body chemistry.”

                                            >“Oh dear. He’s not going to be happy when I tell him that.”

                                            >“Something is wrong with Applejack,” Tree Hugger said solemnly. “When I was talking to her, something happened to her aura. It was all wrong. It fluctuated.”

                                            >“But didn’t you, um, say that she had a strong aura?”

                                            >“She did. That’s the thing.”

                                            >“Oh dear. Something didn’t happen to it, did it?”

                                            >“It’s odd,” Tree Hugger said. “As I was telling her about how she was viewed as the ideal pony within my metaphysical philosophy, I could sense that a distance was growing between us. Then when I asked her if she would submit to some of my exercises, she declined saying that she was busy.”

                                            >“Well that’s too bad,” Fluttershy said. “Maybe next time you come she can set some time aside to do them.”

                                            >“But most ponies I meet don’t refuse the offer to explore their inner selves,” Tree Hugger said, “not unless they’re afraid of what they might find. The moment her aura fluctuated was when I began speaking of life free from regret. That’s a sign that points to Applejack living with some kind of repressed feelings.”

                                            >Town was close now and they could both hear at the edge of their ears the din of its citizens coming and going and conversing in the lively streets.

                                            >“Fluttershy, has Applejack done anything differently lately that you think would lead her to such a state?”

                                            >“No, things have been pretty quiet lately. The Cutie Map hasn’t even called on any of us in a while.”

                                            >The two of them were now in town and they stopped to sit together on a wooden bench alongside the street.

                                            >“Well, what should we do first?” Fluttershy asked.

                                            >Tree Hugger asked her to decide for them. She was looking up at the fair sky and her eyes seemed to fidget anxiously in their soft white walls.

                                            >“We could go to the store,” Fluttershy said. “We could also go see Pinkie Pie, or . . .”

                                            >“What?” Tree Hugger said, following Fluttershy’s pause. “What is it?”

                                            >“Nothing. It’s just—it was a few weeks ago, and nothing bad happened, so maybe it’s nothing. But . . .”

                                            >“But what?”

                                            >Fluttershy and Tree Hugger scooted closer, as though they were sharing a secret.

                                            >“It’s the human,” Fluttershy said. “Applejack asked him for a date to the fair two weeks ago, but he said no. She’d had a crush on him for all that time, too, ever since she’s known him.”

                                            >Tree Hugger said nothing. Then she closed her eyes and sighed softly, as though she were meditating.

                                            >“Like I said, no pony was hurt, and they’re still friends. She didn’t even seem sad afterwards.”

                                            >“That has to be it,” Tree Hugger said. “Applejack is suffering still from her spurned attempt at finding love.”

                                            >“So, I guess we’re going to go see him?”

                                            >By listening, they found him at the site of a small construction job where he and four other stallions were building a new two-floor home.

                                            >The old abandoned residence that had used to be there had been destroyed by the Bug Bear over a year ago and the wreck hadn’t been cleared out until last month when, much to the gratitude of the other residents that lived on the street, Filthy Rich bought the property.

                                            >Tree Hugger watched him work.

                                            >While most of the other stallions were checking measurements, cutting boards or just standing around—he was the only one of them that always seemed to be moving.

                                            >Everyone was always asking for him when it came time to do the heaviest and hardest work, and he did it, too, both quicker than anyone else could have and always without fuss.

                                            >He joked around with the stallions while picking up boards twice his size, sometimes carrying two of them by balancing them on top of his shoulders.

                                            >When he saw them and came over to talk she could smell the faint odor of hard labor on him.

                                            >It smelled like sawdust and steel, and it was all over his sweaty, well-tanned skin, his thinning hair, his faded overalls and his worn boots, and all around his rawhide hands and blackened nails.

                                            >Fluttershy introduced Tree Hugger to him.

                                            >When he gripped the hoof she extended to him with his hand he shook it so vigorously that Tree Hugger nearly fell forward onto her face when he let go.

                                            >After a friendly hello, the second thing he said to her was:

                                            You don’t actually hug trees, do you?

                                            >“Not as much as I used to,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >He laughed over the loud noise coming from the tools and construction nearby.

                                            >When he had finished, he started wiping the palms of his hands down against his covered chest, and said:

                                            Well if you still do, I wouldn’t mind seeing it, Hugs.

                                            >Tree Hugger, amused at the sudden nickname he’d given her, followed his genial amiability with a calm centered smile.

                                            >But she was wondering if his mirth was just a front that he used to effectively hide the immense pain he must feel in being a spiritual orphan in what was to him a strange world.

                                            >She was concerned that she could not see his aura and thus confirm her suspicions.

                                            >She at once asked him if he would mind visiting with her for a time.

                                            >He agreed with a shrug of his shoulders, but Fluttershy asked him if he could really just leave his job like that.

                                            >He waved his left hand dismissively behind him.

                                            That’s just overtime that I’m doing.

                                            >They were off as soon as he had asked one of his friends on the site to keep his tools for him.

                                            >When they had reached the end of the street, he asked:

                                            So where are we all going together and why isn’t it somewhere where I can get a bite?

                                            >“Our way points towards Sweet Apple Acres,” Tree Hugger said sagely.

                                            >He turned to her and said seriously:

                                            That’s the best answer you could’ve given. Really, it is. I think you might’ve read my mind.

                                            >Then he clapped his hands together and rubbed them quickly and audibly before him.

                                            Jackie’s always got an extra seat at the table for me.

                                            >Fluttershy, looking at them both, excused herself saying that she should really go to the store so that she could have dinner ready for her and Tree Hugger in the evening.

                                            >She would also see if Pinkie Pie could join them so that way she would get to see Tree Hugger like she had wanted.

                                            >She got Tree Hugger to agree to be at the cottage at dinnertime before she turned towards a busier street than theirs.

                                            >Tree Hugger and the human talked with one another on their way to Sweet Apple Acres.

                                            >She told him about Fluttershy’s letters she’d received about him, and about her own work on the commune, her special talent and finally her views that had helped her form her metaphysical philosophy concerning the aura of the pony.

                                            >He listened curiously to all and she felt her words were reaching a clearly open mind.

                                            >When she had finished, he readily answered every question that Tree Hugger asked, sometimes with humor and sometimes even solemn candor.

                                            >His openness did not surprise her but she was nevertheless impressed.

                                            >He walked animatedly, seemingly lifting his whole legs up to his thigh with every step, but she also noticed that his hands were stuck in his overall pockets the whole time.

                                            >She soon knew his entire living history in Equestria, about his time spent with the princesses in Canterlot, trying to figure out how he’d arrived there, and his move to Ponyville to start a new life.

                                            >He’d told her everything eventful that had happened to him by the time they reached the front gate of Sweet Apple Acres.

                                            >They’d made good time: It only took them ten minutes to get there.


                                            Well Applejack and I are good friends. We always got on real nice when I was living on the farm those five months, so I guess she got sweet on me is all. Don’t know why. I figure she needs a stallion instead of someone like me. But there wasn’t any bad blood between us after I said no. We’re still good friends.

                                            >They had gone to the end of the dirt road that led to the living area of the property where the farmhouse was.

                                            >He pointed out the barn to her.

                                            That’s where I first lived. I slept in the hayloft, picked apples in the mornings, and ate in the evenings before going out to hunt for my own place, and my own job.

                                            >“Does the change flow correctly within you?”

                                            Sure. Job’s nice. Apartment is kind of cramped, but it’s mine. What I’d really like to do is build my own house somewhere, so that I don’t have to duck to avoid hitting my head every time I want to go in another room.

                                            >They walked to the entrance of the barn.

                                            >Suddenly he crouched down and was picking something out of the dirt.

                                            >Tree Hugger watched him as he stared at a crooked strand of tan hay that he had pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

                                            There’s always hay on the ground here. When I lived here I used to start and end my days with the smell of hay. I kind of like it in my own weird way. I think it looks pretty, especially when it’s all bunched up together.

                                            >He began rubbing the tips of his thumb and finger left and right so that the hay twirled in circles.

                                            >Then after a while he dropped the strand and, standing up, looked around the property.

                                            We should’ve seen one of them by now. But if they’re in the orchard, one of them will eventually come to us.

                                            >He turned to Tree Hugger.

                                            So tell me a little about these exercises you want me and Jackie to do.

                                            >“It’s actually better for you to enter them blindly and without the expectations that anticipation can bring.”

                                            But they really can find things out about me that I don’t know about?

                                            >Before Tree Hugger could answer he turned away from her and talked some more.

                                            Because I think that’s neat. I don’t know if Jackie is going to want to do them, but I sure think they’re damn interesting. And it’s nice to know someone is interested and all, especially a friendly pony like yourself.

                                            >He stopped suddenly and his eyes flicked up from the ground and looked across the property towards the entrance to the south orchard.

                                            >Soon they heard Applejack’s voice calling them from very far away.

                                            >She was bringing in a cartful of apples. After a moment she reached them.

                                            >“What are you two doing here?” she asked.

                                            Tree Hugger came and got me. She wants us to do some psychological exercises together.

                                            >Applejack hummed and looked from Tree Hugger to him. Her eyes were dull and only half open.

                                            >“Exercises, huh?” she said to Tree Hugger.

                                            >“Yes,” Tree Hugger said. “You can do them together.”

                                            Yeah. Come on, Jackie. You aren’t too busy, are you? I think they might be fun.

                                            >Applejack’s look softened considerably. She caught Tree Hugger’s eyes pointing her towards him.

                                            >“It’s groovier together, Applejack,” she said.

                                            >“All right, fine,” Applejack said. “Guess there ain’t any harm in doing any of it just once.”

                                            >“Righteous,” Tree Hugger said. “I think you’ll be quite happy that you’ve decided to do these exercises after we’re all finished.”

                                            >“Well, I hope so.”

                                            >Tree Hugger looked up at the sun. “I can feel that this will be quite a day of spiritual growth for us all.”

                                            >“Wait. A day? I thought you said this would be quick?”

                                            Come on, Jackie. How often do you get to participate in some supervised psychological exercises that help foster spiritual growth?

                                            >Applejack looked at him sternly for a bit, and then sighed. “I guess we should get started then.”

                                            >“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >“Let’s just hope it ain’t in the wrong direction,” Applejack muttered.

                                            So since we’re going to be together all day, Jackie, does that mean that I can stay for dinner?

                                            >“I haven’t decided yet,” Applejack said.

                                            >“First we’ll do an exercise based in free association,” Tree Hugger said. “But we’ll need some paper and something to write with.”

                                            >Applejack said she had the materials that she needed and suggested holding the exercise in her house.

                                            >They went into the kitchen.

                                            >Apple Bloom was sitting at the kitchen table.

                                            >She was idly scribbling in a Power Ponies coloring book that she had gotten for Hearth’s Warming Eve over three years ago but never took interest in completing.

                                            >Applejack introduced her to Tree Hugger, and then asked if she had done her homework.

                                            >Apple Bloom’s ears sagged down like wet leaves after a shower.

                                            >But before Applejack could put her hoof down Tree Hugger asked if she could see Apple Bloom’s drawings.

                                            >A moment later the four of them were all huddled at the table, looking over each other’s shoulders at Apple Bloom’s unique use of color and the fresh free insightful interpretations on experience that her untrained expressions yielded.

                                            >Tree Hugger pointed to a drawing of one of the Power Ponies where Apple Bloom had made zigzagged red scribbles over Filly Second’s mane and face.

                                            >“I’m familiar with this character,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >“So am I,” Applejack said.

                                            >“Don’t you think this captures her character and personality better than any faithful coloring would have?”

                                            >Applejack opened her mouth but could find nothing to say.

                                            >She remembered that Apple Bloom was only about six when she colored like that, but she did not think that that would be a helpful thing to say.

                                            >As Tree Hugger continued to talk, Applejack watched regretfully as Apple Bloom puffed up at such praise.

                                            >The only thing that the man in the room noticed was the pot that was simmering on the stove.

                                            >“It is only when the soul is freed from the restraints of society, and can return to such a pure and uninhibited mode of expression as this, can any pony hope to truly achieve self-enlightenment,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >“I never knew I was so good at coloring,” Apple Bloom said. “I bet I’m better at coloring than I am at history.”

                                            >“Well then you need to get your butt up to your room right now and do your homework so you can fix that,” Applejack said sternly.

                                            >Apple Bloom walked out of the kitchen with a pout, her coloring book sagging in her mouth.

                                            >Applejack and the man, his knees reaching over the table, sat next to each other while Tree Hugger sat across from them.

                                            >She gave them both a blank piece of paper and a pencil.

                                            >“So what are we going to draw?” Applejack said.

                                            I can do a pretty good house.

                                            >“It’s a free association exercise,” Tree Hugger said. “So I’m going to give you an abstract topic that I’d like you to either draw or write about.”

                                            >“So we got to draw what you tell us to draw?”

                                            I can do a pretty good house.

                                            >“No,” Tree Hugger said. “I just want you to think about the topic and then draw whatever comes to your mind. The purpose of this exercise is to unearth subconscious feelings that you unknowingly withhold from society out of the fear from appearing subversive or different.”

                                            >Applejack scrunched her muzzle and turned to see if he was as lost as she was; but he was nodding.

                                            So the picture we draw is supposed to tell us something about ourselves.

                                            >“Exactly!” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >“What is it with you?” Applejack said to him. “Are you sure you haven’t done this kind of stuff before?”

                                            I mean I’ve drawn stuff before, so I’m kind of, like, half an expert already.

                                            >Applejack pursed her lips. “All you draw is houses.”

                                            >“The topic is free will,” Tree Hugger said. “Many ponies believe that free will is the only freedom we still have in modern days, while others believe it to just be a fallacy contrived from the logical mind.”

                                            What’s that mean? Free will, I mean.

                                            >Tree Hugger tried to explain the concept but had considerable trouble trying to vocalize her thoughts and in the end she had to ask Applejack for a dictionary where she read the definition aloud.

                                            >“And we can draw whatever we want?” Applejack said.

                                            >“Totally,” Tree Hugger said. “I’m hoping that your drawings will be expressive of your true innermost thoughts and feelings, and that, by studying them, they will bring us one step closer to freeing you from any repressions in life that you might be suffering from.”

                                            >Tree Hugger looked at them gravely.

                                            >“I should warn you, you may be shocked at what you see when you finish your drawing. I’ve had some ponies who did not know what they were truly capable of begin to weep when faced with their discoveries.”

                                            >“Yeah,” Applejack said slowly. “Well, uh, we’ll try not to cry, okay?”

                                            I won’t cry.

                                            >“You sure about that?”

                                            >Applejack, leaning to her side in her chair, started poked him in the ribs with her hoof.

                                            >“You ain’t one of those sensitive types, are you?”

                                            >He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of her chair.

                                            >She fell forward onto his thigh and he held her down with one hand while he poked and prodded her along her ribs.

                                            >She squealed and squirmed and laughed while trying to wriggle her way out from under his gentle but firm pressure.

                                            >He kept goading her in a playful voice, asking her:

                                            Who’s the sensitive one? Which one of us is the sensitive one? My, my, this apple sure has some wide and squishy sides to it, huh?

                                            >“Stop it! Stop it! Okay, I give up. Now let me go, you darn big bull.”

                                            >Feeling his senses pleased, he released her.

                                            >She pushed herself off of his leg and said in an exhilarated voice that she would make sure to corner and whip his own sides one day.

                                            >As she stepped back to straighten her mane and fix her cocked hat, he admired the heaving of her excited chest, her soft smooth muscles and happy mouth, and the deep rising and falling rhythm of her breaths.

                                            >Following this mood, she looked over her shoulder at him in a certain way before returning to her seat.

                                            >Tree Hugger had watched curiously this brief distraction but kept herself from feeling involved at all.

                                            >She was glad when her humming to get their attention had worked.

                                            >“That was a groovy display,” she said. “I sense that the both of you have more life than most others do within you, and I’m excited now more than ever to see how that will reflect in our exercises.”

                                            >Applejack folded her ears and looked away briefly. “Sorry about that, Tree Hugger.”

                                            You should be. It was your fault, Jackie.

                                            >Applejack wrinkled her nose at him to which he stuck his tongue out.

                                            >Tree Hugger’s eyes went from face to face, and she quickly said:

                                            >“You can begin the exercise now. The subject is free will. Draw whatever is on your mind.”

                                            >In a moment the both of them were leaned over their papers.

                                            >Tree Hugger watched them carefully.

                                            >He started right away drawing something.

                                            >He did not work fast and often he stopped to scrutinize the creation that was taking form on his paper.

                                            >But Tree Hugger was glad for his focus.

                                            >Applejack was idle at first, spending a long time rolling her pencil between her teeth.

                                            >But then inspiration struck her.

                                            >Her pencil met her paper and she began scribbling something very quickly, quicker than Tree Hugger had ever seen some pony work on that exercise.

                                            >Soon she could tell that they were growing sluggish and weary of their topic and she asked them to stop.

                                            >“I chose free will as a topic,” Tree Hugger said, “in the hopes that you would question the choices that have made up your life to be thus far. Applejack, I’d like to see your drawing first.”

                                            >Applejack shrugged and pushed the drawing across the table to her.

                                            >Tree Hugger saw that Applejack had completely filled up her page with words.

                                            >She straightened Applejack’s paper out in front of her and looked it over.

                                            >But as her eyes glossed the page, her excitement started wilting until she was noticeably frowning.

                                            >“I’m having some trouble understanding what you’ve written here,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >“Really? I thought it was simple.”

                                            >Applejack held her hoof forward indicating she wanted her paper.

                                            >When Tree Hugger slid it back to her Applejack held it up in front of her hooves and started to read what she had written.

                                            >“Five, wake up, wash up and shut off the sprinklers. Six, feed Winona and the livestock. Six-thirty, pull out the carts and barrels for apple bucking. Seven, eat breakfast and make sure Apple Bloom is ready for school.”

                                            >“It just appears to just be your schedule,” Tree Hugger said.

                                            >“Well ain’t free will what you choose to do and all? This is what I do every day.”

                                            >“But what if your life wasn’t ruled by those duties? What if you were free to choose any path and do anything—or what if you feel like you can’t escape from the choices you’ve made?”

                                            >“I like working on my farm. I don’t really want to do anything else.”

                                            You could at least wake up two hours later, so you can actually eat breakfast before having to work.

                                            >“You know I eat an apple for a snack before I go out.”

                                            Yeah, that was great for you. But look at me. Do I look like I can survive on just an apple before I have to work?

                                            >“Are you still sore about that?”

                                            How would you feel if you had to feed every other animal on the farm every morning while you were starving?

                                            >“You were not starving.”

                                            Why couldn’t we just eat breakfast before starting the day?

                                            >“Because certain things have to get done first. You know that.”

                                            Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. If you put off the most important meal of the day, then what does that say about you?

                                            >“It says that you got your priorities figured out despite what other lazier, much whinier workers might think otherwise.”

                                            I’m just trying to talk about breakfast and you call me names. Goes to show why I left. She’s abusive.

                                            >“What about your drawing?” Tree Hugger asked him. “You seemed most taken with your task.”

                                            >He leaned over and placed the paper neatly before her. She looked it over.

                                            >At the top he had written Free Will in big letters like a title.

                                            >Underneath, in the center of the paper, was a drawing made up of a long flat rectangle that had a triangle stretched on the top of it.

                                            >There were close parallel lines in the rectangle and behind them was an expressionless figure whose form resembled its creator, except that its body was made of lines and its head was made from a circle, the line of which had the bumpy consistency of a hand-pressed hamburger patty.

                                            >Tree Hugger admired the figure, and then looked over the paper at him approvingly.

                                            >“He’s trapped.”

                                            Yeah, and he didn’t do nothing to deserve it either. It was just bad luck.

                                            >“Very interesting.”

                                            >She turned the paper so Applejack could get a brief look at it.

                                            >“So that’s a jail?” Applejack said.

                                            No, it’s a house. But I made it into a jail. See the bars?

                                            >Applejack looked again. “I wouldn’t want to live there even if it wasn’t a jail.”

                                            At least I could make a drawing.

                                            >“Why is he trapped?” Tree Hugger said.

                                            He murdered his wife. Shot her and her lover eight times. At least that’s what they said in court, but he was innocent the whole time.

                                            >Tree Hugger visibly flinched.

                                            >“Wait,” Applejack said, “is this the one where he breaks the sewer pipe to get out?”

                                            >Tree Hugger cringed at Applejack’s interruption.

                                            >It was imperative at the beginning of the sharing process that no one be interrupted when they were elaborating on their drawing lest their expression be corrupted by outside influence.

                                            >She could already see that his flow was gone, replaced by frustration as he turned to Applejack.

                                            Jackie, why’d you have to open your mouth and interrupt me like that? You spoiled the ending to what I was saying.

                                            >Applejack apologized and he moaned that he might as well not even tell her about it now since the ending to what he was going to say had been spoiled.

                                            >Tree Hugger looked at Applejack in brief amazement and wondered how it was that she had the prophecy to know correctly what his interpretation was to be.

                                            >Then just as she was wondering why he was not as surprised as she was, Applejack said:

                                            >“Well why don’t you tell her about the stuff in between the movie? I’m sure that’d be interesting to hear or something,” she said, turning to Tree Hugger.

                                            >Tree Hugger blinked. “It was a movie?”

                                            One of my favorites from back on my world.

                                            >“And mine, too.  At least from what you told me about it anyway,” she said to him.

                                            I thought you liked the Clint Eastwood one the best.

                                            >“Well which one are we talking about? There’s a few of them you told me about that I remember.”

                                            >“So you drew a scene from a movie?” Tree Hugger said slowly.

                                            I drew free will.

                                            >He pointed to the figure behind bars.

                                            That’s Will. He’s in jail and wants to be free, just like in a movie. But in the movie his name is Andy.

                                            >He saw she was disappointed.

                                            Is something wrong?

                                            >“The object of these exercises is to purge all outside influences that encroach on our auras and corrupt us into being anything but our pure selves.”

                                            Oh. So I can’t think about movies next time?

                                            >“Of course you can’t think about movies,” Applejack said. “It has to be something personal, like mine was. Didn’t you know that?”

                                            I still did a drawing. That should count for something.

                                            >“Well I won this round, and that means that I get one point.”

                                            >Tree Hugger’s brow began to feel strained. “Point? What do you mean?”

                                            >Applejack shrugged. “Well I figured that if we were going to do these exercises and all, then we might as well make a little wager out of them. We sorted it out while you were talking to Apple Bloom.”

                                            Yeah, so if I win I get to stay for dinner, but if she wins then I got to take her out to a nice dinner.

                                            >“A nice and fancy dinner,” Applejack said. “Somewhere where I can get eats that are apple smoked and the floors have got sawdust on them.”

                                            I’m not letting you win the next round, Jackie.

                                            >“I figure you didn’t let me win this round either, but it was still easy.”

                                            >“Stop!” Tree Hugger shouted. “These exercises aren’t meant to be ego driven contests. Their purpose is to offer deeply introspective insights into your mind, body and soul—and you don’t get points for completing them.”

                                            >Tree Hugger could see that her sudden burst of negativity had shocked them.

                                            >She took a few moments to breathe.

                                            >“Sorry for falling way to bad vibes,” she said. “Perhaps our current flow would be better suited to another river.”

                                            >“Uh, come again?” Applejack said.

                                            We’re moving on to a different exercise, Jackie. Come on, keep up.

                                            >As the day went on other exercises were performed dutifully.

                                            >He and Applejack were subjected to all kinds of psychoanalysis and theories which in previous cases of Tree Hugger’s had surfaced deep seated troubles in her participants.

                                            >But in spite of her observations and predictions, he and Applejack defied her by not reaching catharsis.

                                            >In fact the two of them did not seem to respond in any helpful ways to her exercises.

                                            >They laughed and joked around with each other, all while slipping into whatever their next activity was obligingly, but also seemingly with no commitment to delve the dark depths of their souls.

                                            >She could watch them referring to each other with pet names, touching each other freely—yet beneath such a healthy surface, she could sense that loss and pain had rotted the core of the life that was between them.

                                            >They could never grow together, could never start anew again.

                                            >If she could just get one of them to recognize this tragedy of stunted life then she reasoned that there was still hope in finding sturdy ground for them to plant themselves in together again.

                                            >There was only one exercise left which she felt would be at all effective.

                                            >If they wanted at all to get better then they would have to search and be confronted with the cracking corruption that was destroying both of them slowly by themselves.

                                            >As Tree Hugger had requested Applejack had led them to a spot on the farm where there were no distractions and all was open.

                                            >It was a valley where once the farthest reaches of the orchard had been.

                                            >But sickness had killed the nearly one-hundred trees that had been there.

                                            >To stop the disease from spreading the Apple family spent an entire summer cutting all the sick trees down and hauling them out of there to burn as firewood in the winter.

                                            >But they never got to the stumps before they dried up and now they lined that land entirely, sitting in lonely orderly lines up and down along the hills.

                                            >They walked along the rows in silence.

                                            You ever thought of doing something with this land, Jackie?

                                            >“Well sure I have, if I only had the time to get rid of these stumps. I don’t, though. I was just lucky we caught the sickness before autumn harvest. That way we could call on family to come help. If we hadn’t been able to do that, then I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

                                            >He nodded and scanned the land again with one smooth effortless sweep of his eyes.

                                            >Tree Hugger found a dip in the valley and directed them to the bottom of it.

                                            >They sat down on the stumps, their bodies making the points of a triangle with their vision meeting in its center.

                                            >All they could see around them were grassy hills, the orderly stumps and the distant stretch of the valley.

                                            >Tree Hugger then changed her seating position by pressing the outside sides of her legs flat against the stump and then bringing them in close to her body by crossing them over each other.

                                            >Applejack winced when she saw this while he wondered if Rainbow Dash was in any way half as flexible as that.

                                            >Tree Hugger closed her eyes and, with her arms resting against her sides, raised her hooves so they were in line with her shoulders.

                                            >“This is called the lotus position,” she said. “It’s the most effective stance that one can take during meditation as it is the one which most relaxes the body.”

                                            >“It don’t look at all relaxing to me,” Applejack said.

                                            Well she is sitting, Jackie.

                                            >“How are you not breaking your legs?”

                                            >“The eyes can betray what the body feels,” Tree Hugger said. “Meditation is actually the most strenuous of all spiritual exercises, as it takes much time and effort to reach the state of total relaxation that’s needed to achieve vision.”

                                            >“I don’t think I can sit like you can,” Applejack said.

                                            >He scoffed.

                                            >Before she had even turned to see him she was already glaring at the sarcastic smirk that she knew he had.

                                            >Tree Hugger, upset that they were getting distracted again, peeked out at them from behind her eye lids.

                                            You’re a real team player, Jackie. You haven’t even tried.

                                            >“I can’t do it,” she said. “I’ll kill myself trying to do something like that.”

                                            It’s supposed to be relaxing. I mean you’re already sitting down, so you’re practically halfway done already.

                                            >“Well let’s see you do it.”

                                            >Applejack watched sternly as he raised his eyebrows above his head and turned away from her.

                                            >He then raised his left foot up sideways, bent over slightly to grab his shoe with one hand, and then brought his leg to rest up onto the stump.

                                            >He did the same with the other leg, resting his right foot on top of his left thigh.

                                            It’s called the lotus position. If it’s got a name, then anyone can do it.

                                            >“Well it’s easy for you,” Applejack said, “because your legs are supposed to bend that way.”

                                            Oh Jackie. You were always one to brag about how much stronger your legs were than my arms when we were out apple bucking. And now look at you, so weak in your current position. It’s pathetic.

                                            >“My legs are apple bucking legs. They weren’t made for this. Tree Hugger.”

                                            >Applejack’s annoyed expression froze and broke off when she turned to Tree Hugger.

                                            >He turned and looked warily her way as well.

                                            >That’s when Tree Hugger realized that she had lost control of her calm expression sometime during their banter, and was glaring at them both.

                                            >Her teeth were clenched together, showing, and she was flaring her nostrils in their direction.

                                            >Her face slackened when she felt their wary stares.

                                            >She closed her eyes and did some quick breathing exercises to help bring her center of calm back.

                                            >He and Applejack were still watching her uneasily from their seats when she returned to them.

                                            >When she spoke again, she unknowingly had the voice of a stern taskmaster.

                                            >“You don’t need to be in the lotus position to meditate,” she said. “You just need to feel relaxed, and sit in one place and experience that which your spirit brings to you.”

                                            >They regarded her blankly, and then turned to each other with skepticism.

                                            >Tree Hugger exploded.

                                            >“It works. I’ve seen it. If you would just do it right then you’d know that. Applejack, loosen your ponytails, sit down, and be quiet. You, too,” she said to him.

                                            >They flinched, quickly closing their eyes, and began to sit perfectly still and silent.

                                            >They were so put off by her outburst that Applejack did not dare open her eyes as she was removing her hat and loosening her ponytails, and he did not sarcastically ask if Tree Hugger meant he should loosen his ponytails as well.

                                            >Tree Hugger, snorting with annoyed breath again, straightened herself up, closed her eyes, and began to hum therapeutically so as to help them enter easier a trance where they could meet with their spirit.

                                            >She could not concentrate on her own meditation and she kept peeking to check on their progress.

                                            >To her delight they were faring much better at meditating than they had at any of the other exercises.

                                            >She could see that they were perfectly still, calm and relaxed. She reasoned that they would have an experience this session.


                                            >They were at the table in the kitchen, the Apple family, and Applejack, with him at the head so that he could sit with his legs spread apart.

                                            >They were all afflicted with fits of laughter at something one of them had said earlier as the plates were making their rounds among them.

                                            >Granny Smith had made all the food herself from ingredients grown on the farm.

                                            >There were baked sweet potatoes in a yellow bowl next to a violet bowl of steaming mashed potatoes seasoned with sprinklings of green chives.

                                            >On cold glass plates were fresh fruits and vegetables, stalks of celery, candied beets, purple raisins, peeled almonds, and sliced tomatoes and carrots.

                                            >Individually picked grapes of purple and light green were laid in a large brown bowl painted with fall images of red leaves and bare trees.

                                            >And positioned in the center of the table were, on either side of the fruit stand which upheld a pyramid of Red Delicious and Granny Smith apples, two high bottles of sparkling cider with their tops still wrapped in yellow paper.

                                            >When the tides of laughter at the table began to descend Applejack returned to her energetic narrative.

                                            >“So she’s looking at us like we’re two quacks in a henhouse, and that’s when he points at his drawing and says, ‘Well that’s Will right there in the jail.’”

                                            >The laughter at the table rose again in intensity and he watched them all with happy eyes, which lingered for a long time on the loose rolling tangles of her golden mane draped over her shoulders.

                                            >From the corner of her eye she could see he was looking at her. But she simply enjoyed it and pretended not to notice.

                                            >When the laughter died down, Apple Bloom asked him if she could see his drawing.

                                            >He held up his finger and reached into his overall pocket, producing a paper square which he unfolded to reveal his free will drawing.

                                            >Apple Bloom scrutinized it briefly.

                                            >“That’s a really good house.”

                                            Thanks, Bloom. I thought so too.

                                            >“It’s not as good as mine, but it’s still pretty good.”

                                            You’re probably right. You’ll have to give me some tips sometime then.

                                            >“First thing I’d do is color it. Do that and then get back to me later.”

                                            >Applejack rolled her eyes while he nodded sincerely, folded the paper and then put it away.

                                            >They all returned to their plates but only briefly before Applejack made a strangled noise of disgust that sounded like it had closed her throat.

                                            >She held her spoon up to her eyes and everyone could see that, dangling loosely over the side, there was a long thin strand of gold flavor stuck in her potatoes.

                                            >He was the only one that laughed while everyone else grimaced as Applejack pushed her chair out noisily and went to the sink.

                                            >“That’s why it’s better to keep your mane tied up,” she said as she rejoined the table. “That darn Tree Hugger. I ought to put some mane in her dinner next time.”

                                            You’re supposed to be relaxed, Jackie.

                                            >“Well I ain’t. And she should’ve taken off her bandana if I had to take off my hat.”

                                            >He held a spoonful of mashed potatoes pointed forward at level with his face and addressed the table.

                                            You should’ve seen how mad old Hugs really was by the time we were done. It was kind of scary.

                                            >“She was only mad because you were being an old cuss the entire time,” Applejack said.

                                            No way. I wanted to do the exercises. You were the mopey one that needed the convincing to tag along.

                                            >“Only because I knew you were going to give her heck on your own, and I wanted to be there to make sure you didn’t drive her crazy.”

                                            Didn’t work out too good for you then, did it? Seeing as how you were the one that didn’t know how to sit.

                                            >“Well even after what I said earlier, I do like Tree Hugger a lot, but some of her ideas are just kooky is all.”

                                            I don’t know. I think some of her ideas—in a kooky way—did make sense. They might’ve worked if you did them right.

                                            >“Well I guess we’ll never know,” Applejack said with a pleased smile.

                                            >He shrugged and idly stirred the potatoes on his plate for a moment. Then he said:

                                            I didn’t really find out anything about myself, though, like she said I would.

                                            >“Well I’ll bet she found out plenty about you,” Applejack said in their friendly tone.

                                            >He looked at Applejack with a thin smile and wooden restless eyes.

                                            Yeah, I guess I did tell her a lot, didn’t I?

                                            >No one answered the question and the rest of the dinner was eaten in a relaxed, casual air.

                                            >A few hours after dinner, when the kitchen had been cleaned and the leftovers put away, Applejack entered alone for a drink of water.

                                            >It was soft-blue twilight outside and she had to turn on the light to see.

                                            >She’d only taken a few steps in when she noticed that there was something left in the seat of her chair.

                                            >She stepped forward and saw that it was a small handful of hay, carefully placed in the center of her seat and pushed together so that not a single strand had fallen to the floor.

                                            >She stared at it for a long time, wondering how it got there.

                                            >It was only after she had gently taken it in her mouth that she felt strangely contented with this mysterious gift.


                                            >On the stump to the right of Tree Hugger sat Pinkie Pie, who was watching her as she slept sitting up and wondering just how she was able to cross her legs like that.

                                            >She had tried to wake her up but had not been able to budge her, and that was before the sun had set, too.

                                            >So Pinkie simply watched her and, with a big and slightly bent spoon, ate her Rocky Road ice cream, which was in a round container that was between her legs.

                                            >The ice cream had melted by now and Pinkie Pie’s cheeks were stained and matted from the dripping cream.

                                            >The first time Tree Hugger ever woke up out of a meditative trance with a start was when she was in those dead orchards.

                                            >She could hear a strange slurping smacking sound from somewhere all around her.

                                            >When she noticed that neither Applejack nor the human were still around, she turned to her right and a second later had fallen backwards off of her stump in shock.

                                            >Pinkie Pie helped her up off the ground.

                                            >“What happened?” Tree Hugger said in her startled daze.

                                            >“You fell asleep, silly,” Pinkie Pie said. “And then you fell off that stump you were sitting on.”

                                            >“Where’s Applejack?” she asked, looking around.

                                            >“Probably eating dinner,” Pinkie Pie said. “Speaking of, we should probably go back to Fluttershy’s now.”

                                            >“But we were meditating,” Tree Hugger said distantly. “I saw them entering their own trances.”

                                            >“I don’t know. I saw them at the farmhouse about an hour ago. They were the ones that told me you were here.”

                                            >Tree Hugger looked bewilderedly at the two empty stumps, and her ears sank down slowly to the back of her head.

                                            >“So they left me.”

                                            >“Well I don’t think they wanted to on purpose, but you just wouldn’t wake up.”

                                            >“But they left me anyway. And I guess that means that I failed them then.”

                                            >“Don’t be silly. No, you didn’t.”

                                            >Pinkie Pie watched Tree Hugger carefully in the following silence.

                                            >Suddenly Pinkie could see that Tree Hugger was trembling slightly, but from what she was not sure until she heard her sniffling.

                                            >Pinkie stepped forward and saw that Tree Hugger was starting to cry.

                                            >“Hey, what’s wrong?” Pinkie said. “Come on, they’re your friends. They like you.”

                                            >“I know,” Tree Hugger said. Her voice had a sad catch in it as she spoke. “But they’re in pain. I know that they’re in pain because I can see it, feel it, and it’s my destiny to help them and any pony that’s hurt like them. And I failed. For the first time, I failed.”

                                            >Pinkie Pie, feeling confused yet sympathetic, hugged Tree Hugger with one arm as Tree Hugger gave way to full sobs, burying her face in Pinkie’s shoulder.

                                            >“I tried everything that usually works to get them to open themselves up to epiphany and I still failed,” she said, slightly muffled. “And now they’ll always live with a hollow, empty pain inside them that they won’t know how to heal. All their lives, they’ll never feel complete. Regret and sorrow will eat away at them until they’re old and defeated, too weak to fight the overwhelming sadness they feel for their lives. If only I could have healed them.”

                                            >Tree Hugger pulled back and looked at Pinkie. “Why couldn’t I reach them? What did I do wrong?”

                                            >“I don’t know,” Pinkie said. “Maybe they just weren’t ready for you to heal them, I think.”

                                            >“You think that maybe with time . . . they might listen . . . ?”

                                            >“Sure,” Pinkie said. “Why not?”

                                            >Tree Hugger looked down and started biting her lip to keep her from breaking into a new fit of sobs.

                                            >Pinkie Pie dipped her face down to look her in the eye.

                                            >“Hey, are you feeling okay?”

                                            >Tree Hugger, her lip trembling and her nose running, had difficulty talking still but eventually managed to say: “No.”

                                            >“Well I’m sorry,” Pinkie said. “Do you want to talk to me about it?”

                                            >“I don’t know.” Tree Hugger sniffled loudly and wiped her nose with the back of her hoof. “Maybe.”

                                            >“Why don’t we go back to Fluttershy’s and have a sleepover then?” Pinkie said. “We can stay up all night. It’ll be fun.”

                                            >Tree Hugger thought for a moment. “Can we have ice cream?”

                                            >“Of course we can. It’s not a sleepover without ice cream.”

                                            >Pinkie Pie put the soft container of melty Rocky Road in Tree Hugger’s arms, and for the first time since she had awakened she smiled.

                                            >She slurped a spoonful that dribbled some down her chin.

                                            >“It’s good,” Tree Hugger said. “But my favorite kind is that one that’s got fudge tracks in it.”

                                            >“Oh, I know that one. Let’s go get some and bring it back to Fluttershy’s.”

                                            >“I’d like that. That sounds fun.”

                                            >“Well then let’s go. Time’s a wasting.”

                                            >“Thank you, Pinkie Pie. You have a wonderful aura.”

                                            >“That’s sweet of you to say. You’ve got a pretty nice one yourself.”

                                            >“I’m glad you think so,” Tree Hugger said. “Most ponies don’t notice.”

                                            >Soon they had walked together out of the valley of dead trees side by side, and as they walked in silence for a time by the evening dim apple trees in the orchard she recalled something her father, a stallion in the forestry, had said to her when she was a little girl.

                                            >He had always told her that she should talk to the trees closest to her whenever she was feeling troubled.

                                            >He believed that the trees of the world, because they live and grow in one spot all their lives, had more wisdom in them than any pony ever could have.

                                            >She discovered what he had meant on her own back when she was still growing and now she knew that she could always tell the trees about whatever troubled her, and that they would always listen when she couldn’t speak to others, either because she felt ashamed or because she knew that her spoken feelings could not be understood at all by those with ears that were less wise and who strictly believed that she needed to be understood and then advised.

                                            >An apple fell from one of the trees before her.

                                            >It was in her path and she watched it grow bigger in her eyes the closer she got to it.

                                            >Soon it was at her hooves.

                                            >She could not see its color or tell what kind it was but she thought that she should take it.

                                            >She reasoned that it would surely go to waste if she did not pick it up and take it with her.

                                            >But she felt her body hesitate and eventually she stepped over the apple and left it where it had fallen.