The day had certainly put Applejack in a bind. She’d been up before the sun, working the fields with the kind of grit only a true farm girl could muster. Her flannel sleeves were rolled to her elbows, and sweat clung to her brow as she hauled crates of apples, mended fences, and ran after a stubborn old goat that had broken loose again. The summer sun beat down hard, but Applejack didn’t complain—hard work was in her blood, and she always gave it her all.

Now, with the chores done and a layer of dirt on her jeans, she’d cleaned up just enough to head into town. Her golden-blonde ponytail swayed behind her as she walked, boots kicking up dust on the path. She didn’t mind the ache in her muscles or the smudge of dirt on her cheek; it just proved she’d earned her rest.

She was hoping to cool off, maybe grab a sweet tea, and check in with her friends—see how they were holding up. She figured she’d extend an open invite to dinner back at the farm. Granny was cooking up a big batch of stew, and there was always more than enough to go around. If her friends were up for it, she’d be glad to share the warmth and simplicity of home with them. Nothing fancy—just good food, good company, and the smell of fresh apple pie in the air.