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Final Witness
“Applejack, I’m comin’ in.”
Granny Smith waited for a moment before she pushed open the door, shaking her head at the sight of the filly face-down in her bed.
“Go ‘way.”
“It’s been three days. I’m worried about ya.”
Applejack sniffed. “Well, ya shouldn’t be. I’m a bad daughter.”
“Aw, now don’t say that,” Granny Smith said, sidling up on the bed next to Applejack and draping a hoof over her shoulders. “It ain’t your fault.”
“I know.”
“You know, do ya?” Granny Smith leaned down. “So why don’t ya tell me why ya think one o’ the best Apples ever to fall out of the tree is such a bad daughter.”
Applejack shifted on the bed, shuddering. “You’ll hate me.”
“Now, don’t say that. I love ya. Might get mad at ya sometimes, but I only want what’s best for ya. Now, why don’t you tell your old Granny Smith what’s bothering you.”
Applejack sniffed again, slowly lifting her head from her pillow. “I left him.”
Granny Smith stared at her for a moment before shaking her head. “Land’s sake, girl, is that what’s been bothering you? You came home a-hollerin’; you did the right thing. It weren’t your fault it didn’t do him a lick of good.” She leaned down to give Applejack a kiss on the top of her head. “‘Twas that tree that got him, not you.”
Applejack’s ears drooped down the sides of her head. “I know that. Its just… he was alone, when he left us. No one was there to comfort him or say they loved him or nothin’.”
Granny Smith smiled, giving the filly a squeeze around the shoulders. “He knew you loved him, same as I do. He didn’t blame you one bit, I reckon. Probably was hopin’ you’d get help and it weren’t as bad as it seemed.”
Applejack sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto her pillow. “I know, but… he was tryin’ to talk to me, when I ran. I should have stayed and listened, at least.”
“Applejack,” Granny Smith said, sliding her hoof up under her granddaughter’s chin to look her in the eye. “You did nothin’ wrong. If you’da stayed, you’d be wonderin’ if maybe you coulda saved him if you’d run to get help fast as could be.”
“But Granny, I always hear ‘bout the last words of all these ponies in school. And every one of ‘em had somepony there when they died. Every one of ‘em. And they’re all so deep and meaningful. What if pa had somethin’ important ta say, and I didn’t stay and listen?” Applejack shuddered, pulling her head away to look out the window. “I didn’t even run to get help. I just ran away ‘cause I was scared.”
“Now you listen,” Granny Smith said, her voice stern. “You mighta been scared, and you mighta run, but you ran home and you got help after that tree fell. I’da been scared too. But you ran home and you got help. Ain’t your fault it all went wrong.” She shook her head. “As for the rest of it, you know as well as I do that most of that’s just hooey ponies make up to sound deep, puttin’ words into other ponies’ mouths who ain’t there to say they said otherwise.”
Applejack rubbed at her face with her hoof. “You mean it?”
“Sure do. Your pa loved ya, and you did your best to save him. I’m sure he don’t hold it against you that you weren’t there at the end.”
Applejack shuddered, shifting against Granny Smith’s side.
“I know. How ‘bout you go downstairs and have a nice big slice of apple pie.”
“You made pie?”
“Had to find some way to get you outta your room,” Granny Smith said, smiling fondly. “Go on, I won’t tell nopony if you take two. Just leave some for your brother.”
Applejack smiled weakly. “Thank ya, Granny.” The filly pushed herself up against her grandmother, nuzzling up at the older pony’s chin before slowly sliding off the bed, walking unsteadily to the door as her grandmother watched her go.
“She’s a good ‘un. Always takin’ responsibility for everypony else and not lettin’ anypony tell her otherwise.” Granny Smith sighed, shaking her head. “Too bad about her pa, though. Welp, nothin’ for it but to keep on goin’.” She rose to her hooves. “Still, woulda been nice to find out where he buried all them bits.”
Granny Smith waited for a moment before she pushed open the door, shaking her head at the sight of the filly face-down in her bed.
“Go ‘way.”
“It’s been three days. I’m worried about ya.”
Applejack sniffed. “Well, ya shouldn’t be. I’m a bad daughter.”
“Aw, now don’t say that,” Granny Smith said, sidling up on the bed next to Applejack and draping a hoof over her shoulders. “It ain’t your fault.”
“I know.”
“You know, do ya?” Granny Smith leaned down. “So why don’t ya tell me why ya think one o’ the best Apples ever to fall out of the tree is such a bad daughter.”
Applejack shifted on the bed, shuddering. “You’ll hate me.”
“Now, don’t say that. I love ya. Might get mad at ya sometimes, but I only want what’s best for ya. Now, why don’t you tell your old Granny Smith what’s bothering you.”
Applejack sniffed again, slowly lifting her head from her pillow. “I left him.”
Granny Smith stared at her for a moment before shaking her head. “Land’s sake, girl, is that what’s been bothering you? You came home a-hollerin’; you did the right thing. It weren’t your fault it didn’t do him a lick of good.” She leaned down to give Applejack a kiss on the top of her head. “‘Twas that tree that got him, not you.”
Applejack’s ears drooped down the sides of her head. “I know that. Its just… he was alone, when he left us. No one was there to comfort him or say they loved him or nothin’.”
Granny Smith smiled, giving the filly a squeeze around the shoulders. “He knew you loved him, same as I do. He didn’t blame you one bit, I reckon. Probably was hopin’ you’d get help and it weren’t as bad as it seemed.”
Applejack sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto her pillow. “I know, but… he was tryin’ to talk to me, when I ran. I should have stayed and listened, at least.”
“Applejack,” Granny Smith said, sliding her hoof up under her granddaughter’s chin to look her in the eye. “You did nothin’ wrong. If you’da stayed, you’d be wonderin’ if maybe you coulda saved him if you’d run to get help fast as could be.”
“But Granny, I always hear ‘bout the last words of all these ponies in school. And every one of ‘em had somepony there when they died. Every one of ‘em. And they’re all so deep and meaningful. What if pa had somethin’ important ta say, and I didn’t stay and listen?” Applejack shuddered, pulling her head away to look out the window. “I didn’t even run to get help. I just ran away ‘cause I was scared.”
“Now you listen,” Granny Smith said, her voice stern. “You mighta been scared, and you mighta run, but you ran home and you got help after that tree fell. I’da been scared too. But you ran home and you got help. Ain’t your fault it all went wrong.” She shook her head. “As for the rest of it, you know as well as I do that most of that’s just hooey ponies make up to sound deep, puttin’ words into other ponies’ mouths who ain’t there to say they said otherwise.”
Applejack rubbed at her face with her hoof. “You mean it?”
“Sure do. Your pa loved ya, and you did your best to save him. I’m sure he don’t hold it against you that you weren’t there at the end.”
Applejack shuddered, shifting against Granny Smith’s side.
“I know. How ‘bout you go downstairs and have a nice big slice of apple pie.”
“You made pie?”
“Had to find some way to get you outta your room,” Granny Smith said, smiling fondly. “Go on, I won’t tell nopony if you take two. Just leave some for your brother.”
Applejack smiled weakly. “Thank ya, Granny.” The filly pushed herself up against her grandmother, nuzzling up at the older pony’s chin before slowly sliding off the bed, walking unsteadily to the door as her grandmother watched her go.
“She’s a good ‘un. Always takin’ responsibility for everypony else and not lettin’ anypony tell her otherwise.” Granny Smith sighed, shaking her head. “Too bad about her pa, though. Welp, nothin’ for it but to keep on goin’.” She rose to her hooves. “Still, woulda been nice to find out where he buried all them bits.”