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They say Applejack planted six trees. One tree was a beam, which spanned the sky between sun and moon. Another was metal and time, with dazzling seeds, and it grew underground. The third was incorporeal, yet its branches spanned between dimensions, and tied all the worlds together. The fourth held up the firmament, and its leaves were clouds, its fruit lightning; she saved its seed from the ashes of the first rainbow, from which all other rainbows are born. The fifth was the tree of life, and deer drank from its roots. As for the sixth, she planted an apple tree.

Six friends. Six trees. Only some say there was a seventh. Seven is the number of all things, after all. But of the last tree nopony speaks, for in its infinite gleaming facets hides the secrets of its sisters. Its magic is a special thing, a free thing. And it must be guarded.

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Old Applejack and the gals, they were the first. The beginning. And though their deeds and their names will echo throughout eternity, it is Applejack of whom the earth ponies speak.

Upvotes at import: 34 | Stars at import: 23
Posted previously at: 2020-04-06T05:36:29 | Posted previously by: LazyRyder