Big Macintosh felt a soft touch on his back as he hefted his great wood-and-metal plow up onto its shelf. He startled, but drew a steadying breath and managed to guide the plow down gently. That done, he turned, expecting perhaps to see that Apple Bloom had come to call him in for dinner. He looked from side to side in the warm, dark barn, but saw nopony. There were loose-packed bales of hay, and lances of late afternoon light spearing down through gaps and knotholes, and sweet-smelling casks full of juice in various stages of fermentation—but that was all. Big Mac grunted, turned toward the great barn door, and walked across its threshold to the gently-blowing grass outside. He instantly felt his stomach clench with trepidation as he sighted the family home. [i]Why’d Applejack and them all hafta run off to deal with more changeling problems [b]now[/b] of all times?[/i] he thought to himself. He looked up toward the sky, and let his gaze linger on the gold-and-red-smeared canvas of sunset. One more glance toward the house—bringing more pangs of anxiety—and he set off for the nearby hill overlooking the farm. A chill wind blew through the grass around his fetlocks as he walked, gently teasing Big Mac’s shaggy coat. He maintained his pace while glancing around, again seeing only sights he’d expect on the working farm. One of those was the field he’d been plowing that afternoon, with its rich soil seeming almost pitch-black as the blazing sunset threw the landscape into either brilliant color or deep shadow. He allowed himself a tight-lipped smile as he studied it from afar. At last, Big Mac reached the lone apple tree at the top of the hill. He settled on his haunches underneath it, gazed up at the fruit weighing heavy on its branches, and heaved a deep sigh. Then he raised a hoof to his eyes and looked out at the low-hanging sun and the long strings of fiery clouds that surrounded it. “I wish it was all just as simple as apples,” he said aloud, to nopony other than himself. “Ain’t nothing to [i]apples.[/i] Just grow ‘em and buck ‘em, year in and year out. Don’t hardly have to [i]think[/i] about it, ‘cause there ain’t nothing much to think [i]about[/i]. It’s all just…” He trailed off, shaking his head and looking down toward the farmhouse again. “No. Granny, I love ya and I love this farm, but I can’t take over. I [i]can’t[/i]. I’ll work it ‘til my dyin’ day, but you’re gonna just have to wait for AJ to get back and sign those papers, not me. I ain’t the kind of pony meant to be in charge of nothin. And that’s enough, ain’t it? World needs its share of ponies just willing to lend a strong back to things.” The breeze blew again, and Big Mach felt it brush his coat once more—but this time came a stronger feeling as well. It was light for a touch, but solid enough to make him turn his head. He jerked back at the sight of a sturdy yellow-coated stallion standing just behind him. “[i]Just[/i] a strong back?” asked the newcomer, smiling beneath a shock of red mane sticking out from his tan stetson hat. “Son, I wouldn’t be so proud of you if you were just a strong back.” Big Mac’s jaw drifted open as his eyes roved over the surface of the newcomer. “P… pa?!” “Yeah, Mackie,” Bright Mac said with a smile. “It’s me. And I just want you to know that I’m proud of you… endlessly proud. But I need you to know that you’re wrong about something.” “B… but… this isn’t possible…” Bright Mac shook his head, and his smile turned wan. “I didn’t think so either, but I [i]need[/i]—” “Wait.” Big Mac raised a hoof to his mouth, and pointed with the other. “No. You can’t be here. Whatever you are, you [i]can’t[/i] be my pa.” “I can. I [i]am[/i]. But I don’t know how long I have, so please, just listen.” “No!” Big Mac rose to all fours and stomped closer to Bright Mac, who retreated several steps down the hill, eyes widening. “Now I don’t know if you’re some figment of my own imagination, or even a rogue changeling spy or something! But that is [i]not[/i] a face you get to wear, you understand me?!” His hooves thundered closer, ever closer. “Wait, son, no!” The thing wearing the face of Bright Mac ducked around a thick set of bushes midway down the hill. Big Mac jumped forward, seeking to catch it. But it was gone. For long moments, Big Mac stood alone there on the hill, looking all about for where it could’ve gone. The soundtrack to his fruitless search was the soft song of the wind in the trees, and the hammering beat of his blood in his ears. At last, with rising confusion, he looked back at where he’d chased it down the hill. He trotted closer, focusing on the crushed grass that had been beneath his heavy hooves. But there was only one set of hoofprints. [hr] Late that night, Big Mac sat hugging his legs in the pool of guttering light cast by a lone candle on the kitchen table in his home. He didn’t sit alone, though. “You did the right thing, tellin’ us,” Granny Smith said from the nearby rocker. “And don’t you worry, Mayor Mare’s got all the regulars out watchin’ tonight. She’s even gonna have ol’ Spike send word up to the Princess herself in case she wants to do something.” Big Mac nodded sullenly. Granny Smith slowed her rocking. “I don’t suppose, though…” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “I know it’s crazy. [i]Course[/i] it’s crazy, thinkin’ it.” “It [i]can’t[/i] have been him, Granny!” Mac all but exploded. “Hsst!” “I know, I’m sorry, I don’t want to wake up Apple Bloom either. But what I saw… I [i]can’t[/i] have seen pa! There ain’t no comin’ back from the other side, y’know?” “I know that better’n most ponies, child,” Granny Smith said, narrowing her eyes. “It’s why I finally up and had them documents drawn up when your Grand Pear mentioned hoofin’ over his orchards to them uncle Pears you kids have.” Big Mac buried his face in his hooves. “I know, Granny. And I’m sure sorry for bringin’ it up like I did.” She frowned. “Now, it could well be that this is changelings out makin’ mischief in some new, cruel way. Or, like as not, it could just be nerves. Lately you got more nerves’n a hog tap-dancin’ on a tightrope.” “I can’t do it, Granny,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel more shame’n I know how to say, but as much as I want to help out… I just don’t think I can be in charge around here.” Granny Smith grunted. “Well, I don’t suppose I’ll do any good pushin’ things if that’s how ya feel. Applejack should be home soon enough, and I’m sure she’ll sign if you won’t.” She looked away, toward the window and the moonlit fields beyond. “Truth be told, though, it don’t seem like her path is as tied to this place as it used to be. Might be that her [i]heart’ll[/i] always be here, but ain’t no telling where her [i]hooves[/i] might be on any given day.” “I know. She’s… she’s everything I’m [i]not.[/i]” “Now quit your blatherin’’ right there, boy. You’re an Apple, through-and-through, just as sure as any of us. You work hard! You’re loyal to the family! And just ‘cause she goes off and saves the world every now an’ then don’t mean there ain’t room for ponies doin’ [i]other[/i] things! Somepony’s gotta make that world she’s savin.” He looked up at her, nodding. “I just wish I could do more. But [i]not[/i] with bein’ in charge.” “You’re stubborn like an Apple, too.” Granny Smith added a slight smile. “Maybe there’s even some Pear stubbornness in there. But you ain’t fixin’ on what you [i]can[/i] do; you’re too hung-up on the feeling that you can’t do this, or shouldn’t. But if you think about it, none of that matters much next to believin’ in yourself, and lookin’ for good ponies to keep by your side to help ya carry through the tough bits.” She gave him a broad wink. “That Sugar Belle sure looks like she’s gotta have a strong back to help hold up them nice, shapely flanks.” Big Mac felt a rush of fire through his cheeks, and he buried his face again. “I know, Granny.” He heard her sigh. “An’ I know it [i]is[/i] crazy, Mackie, but don’t you think your pa would’ve told ya you could do this if he’d have had the chance?” “I don’t know, Granny.” “Well, think on it, then. And maybe if ya feel up to payin’ another visit to that hill tomorrow… I don’t know. Sometimes even crazy ain’t so crazy once ya get to know it. I mean, look at that maybe-distant-cousin-a-whole-buncha-times-removed that we’ve got, know what I mean?” “Eeyup,” he said, snickering in spite of himself. [hr] The next day, Big Mac’s concentration broke repeatedly from his plowing as far more ponies than usual came trotting through Sweet Apple Acres—some with guardspony armor, some without. A few guards stopped by to question him during his lunch break, and by the time he was done mustering up a few words to share with them, he’d lost his appetite, and simply went back to working. He regretted that decision long before the sun began descending into the late afternoon. The last hour or so of plowing was sheer torture, with his stomach grumbling almost as loud as the sound of the plow turning up dirt. It was bad enough that he broke early, unhitching himself from the plow and leaving it there in the field as he set off for the farmouse. A slight tickle on the back of his mane made him stiffen in his stride. He turned his head, but found nothing save for the open field behind him—and the hill beyond. Big Mac sighed as curiosity won the battle against trepidation. With movements like lead, he plodded back across the field and toward the hill, trying to ignore his stomach and his nerves by turns. He climbed the hillside ponderously, looking all around himself as he went. It was empty, though; empty save for himself, the few bushes along the way, and the solitary tree. He salivated as he caught sight of the ripe fruit hanging heavy in the tree. His pace quickened. He walked right up underneath it and reached a hoof up to pluck an apple. He didn’t even need to buck them, with the branches hanging so low. “I remember when you planted that,” said his father’s voice behind him. Big Mac jumped again, and turned, seeing Bright Mac—or the image of him—standing nearby. Bright Mac raised a hoof in a gesture of peace. “It was father’s day, right after Applejack was born. I remember you led me up here, and I…” He looked down at the grass. “I told you all the reasons why planting a lone tree at the very tip-top of a hill [i]wouldn’t[/i] work.” Tears sprung to Big Mac’s eyes. “Pa?” “Your mother was right, of course,” Bright Mac said, meeting his eyes again. “There were ways that we could nurture it, and shelter it from storms while it was too small to bear them itself. But I’m… not proud of discouraging you. I did too much of that, sometimes.” Big Mac felt a flood of warmth in his chest and face. He couldn’t speak, though he felt as if there was a knot of words, and questions, veritably threatening to burst out of his throat. “I just want you to know that I’m proud of you, and of the pony you’ve become. And I [i]need[/i] you to know that I’m sorry. I always tried to do my best, and learn from my mistakes, but I made a lot more of them than I wish I had. [i]Especially[/i] with you. I learned so much from you, but I learned it the hard way sometimes, and I—” “Why didn’t you come back sooner?” Big Mac blurted, half-choking his words through tears. “It wasn’t fair having to grow up without you!” Bright Mac frowned. “It wasn’t fair not getting to see you grow up, and not getting to say what I needed to say when it would’ve made the most difference.” “But how… how can you be here?” “That’s not the important thing, Mackie; [i]you[/i] are. You need to know you can do this. I know you feel like your sisters are leaving you behind, and I know you dream of being just like them…” He cracked a smile. “Alicorn princess and all, right?” A hot wave of embarrassment came crashing down on Big Mac. “Pa, I—” “You’ve nothing to explain or apologize for, Mackie. Celestia knows I used to like to sneak your Granny’s nightshirts out for a walk in the moonlight every once in a while.” “You… did?” Bright Mac turned a frown toward the setting sun. “Mackie, I know it doesn’t take much for it to feel like the world’s pushing you aside. It felt like time stood still for me here on the farm, sometimes. And fatherhood never quite took to me, through no fault of yours or your sisters—I just always felt it was [i]work[/i], even though I was proud to do it.” Big Mac turned his eyes toward the ground. “You need to know that I love you, son, and I’m proud of you, and my own failings as a stallion, and a father… well, they ain’t yours. Or they don’t have to be. I wouldn’t want them to be, at any rate.” “Pa, I don’t blame you—” “[i]Course[/i] ya do. As well you [i]should[/i]. But let me tell you something, Mackie: if I can be proud of one thing I did in my life, just one thing, it'd be being there for your mother through her suffering after her pa left her.” Big Mac looked up again, seeing his father’s ears turned down. “That’s what I wanted to tell you, Mackie: even if most ponies don’t understand, and even if it’s for just one pony—even for yourself—your love can still mean the world to somepony. And you’ve got a great big heart, just full to [i]bursin’[/i] with love, all just waiting to come out.” The breath caught in Big Mac’s throat. “Pa… how do I know you’re real? That you’re not just… some changeling, sent to tease my heart and take… take…” His voice was lost amid rough sobbing. Bright Mac took a step backwards, and nodded. “Proof is valuable in some things, son. But sometimes, proof just ain’t there at the [i]start[/i] of something. Anypony has it in ‘em to fail at doing just about anything; I was just a pony too, and I made plenty of mistakes, right up to my dyin’ day. But I believe in you, Mackie. I think you’d find it in you to take the farm if you could put aside your fear of failing at it. And for anything I did to put that fear in you… I’m sorry. Ten thousand times sorry. But not as sorry as I am proud of you. And that’s… that’s all I really wanted to say.” “No, pa!” Big Mac’s vision blurred with tears as he leapt forward, reaching out to hug his father. But nopony was there to hug. [hr] “Night Court is adjourned!” Princess Luna declared from her podium the front of the room, pounding a great gavel before her. Big Mac winced at the sharp rapping sound. Next to him on the bench, Granny Smith jerked back to wakefulness. He glanced around at the small crowd of ponies rising and gathering their effects to focus on her, and he smiled a bit at her halfhearted attempt to fuss and grumble like she’d been awake for the whole duration of their hearing. Granny Smith cleared her throat, and shouted over the crowd: “Sorry about my ears there, Princess. Where didja say we had to go to get these here papers stamped again?” Luna glanced at Big Mac, then at Granny Smith, and gave her a small smile. “Your papers are all in order, my good mare,” she said over the crowd. “You were even gracious enough to give us a thorough accounting of your grandson’s virtues prior to… resting your eyes for a moment.” “Eh, sounds good ta me,” Granny Smith said, shuffling the papers in her hooves. Big Mac glanced back at the crowd, which was actively dispersing. He raised a hoof gingerly. “Uh… Princess?” “Yes, goodstallion Macintosh? Is there something else?” Big Mac blushed. “Uh… d’ya mind if I… ask ya a couple other questions, not about the court?” Luna turned to one of the bat-winged guards flanking her at the podium, and nodded. He trotted down toward the exits, following the ponies who were leaving, and preparing to close and lock the courtroom. “You may ask,” Luna said once the doors were shut. “Well, uh… you mighta heard we had a… visitor up at our farm recently.” “The possible rogue changeling,” Luna said, raising an eyebrow. He swallowed. “I suppose that could be what it was, ma’am. I was wonderin’, though… could what I saw have been a dream you mighta sent me? Just like… a daydream, or something?” “I only rarely [i]send[/i] a dream. It is a subtle power, but one with weighty and complex responsibility.” Luna shook her head. “I understand that you might still be seeking answers. Know, however, that there is sometimes more to our world than what most ponies know or see, sometimes including myself.” Big Mac nodded. “I understand, ma’am. Thank you anyway.” “With that said… would you say that what you saw was evil, or disturbing, or that it wanted something from you?” He frowned. “No, I reckon it was mostly just… encouraging. Well, I s’pose it [i]did[/i] want me to own the farm, and it seemed to think there’d be a lot of love there if I took it.” “I see.” Luna furrowed her brows for a moment. “Then I give you my word as your Princess: from this night forward, I shall keep a closer watch over your family’s dreams, in case this should prove to be something malign.” “Thank you, Princess,” Big Mac said, bowing his head. “But I urge you to take comfort in the meanwhile,” Luna said. “Most ponies would give anything to know their lost loved ones still care for them, and think well of their abilities.” Big Mac felt something on his back again. A gentle touch, but firm. Hot tears returned to his eyes, and he turned— —and there, gazing up at him with tear-streaked eyes of her own, was Granny Smith. “Come on, young’n; we best get back to the hotel and get some shuteye ‘fore the sun comes up.” The two left, hoof in hoof. Behind them, Luna smiled.