"Here," I announced, tamping down the soil next to the seedling, "You can start watering now."

A pitch-black night enveloped us, with only the oil lamp resting nearby on the ground managing to cast a feeble light within a radius of the nearest ten meters. In its glow, I could distinctly see my companion, waiting for me to finish my part of the work in nervous silence. The ginger earth pony, clad in an old blue coat, took the handle of the watering can in her teeth and moved even closer to me to water the seedling. My eyes fixed on the salad-colored scarf tied around her neck like a tie before lifting to her cowboy hat, covering her blondish mane. It was peculiar to see these extraordinary creatures wearing rather human clothing.

The pony carefully tilted the watering can over the seedling, and from it, a liquid gleaming with a golden light poured out, looking as though it were molten sunshine. This substance was what kept us alive. Once the watering was done, my partner wisely stepped back a few paces before placing her tool on the ground. Knowing what would happen next, I straightened up to my full height and followed her lead. After all, the flora needed space to fully bloom.

The golden liquid disappeared entirely beneath the earth, and suddenly, before our very eyes, a bright light burst from its depths, enveloping the seedling in a magical flare, causing it to grow into a massive corncob in mere seconds, towering over my partner. From its pointed tip, a stem shot out, widening into a sort of scoop at the end, with which it effortlessly extracted a large grain from itself. It was ready to hurl it at any enemy, like a catapult. However, there were no targets at the moment, and this plant knew it because, like all its kind, it had eyes.

I had grown accustomed to this, but it never ceased to amaze me. These plants resembled fauna more than flora; they could make certain movements, had vision, and, it seemed, even some level of intelligence. The only things they couldn't do were walk and talk because they lacked the necessary organs. As an agronomist who had ended up in Equestria through an exchange program, I was simply astounded. Three more corncobs, planted just south of the barn moments ago, looked exactly the same. We couldn't plant any more in that direction.

"Ya reckon this here's gonna be plenty?" the pony in the hat suddenly inquired, her gaze still fixed on the rapidly grown corncob.

"I hope so, Applejack," I replied almost impassively. Spreading my hands, I added a rather bleak argument: "At least, this is all we can plant here. Otherwise, we'll have nothing left for the coming days."

"Yeah, them attacks ain't likely to quit any time soon, and we ain't got all that many seedlings," Applejack muttered tensely, before wearily exclaiming, "Why in tarnation do they come a-chargin' at our farm like parasprites on the crop? We ain't smearing it with apple jam, are we?"

After listening to her folksy aphorisms, I silently grinned. I always found it amusing that this pony spoke with a charming southern drawl and could put words together in all sorts of expressions, a skill she clearly inherited from her grandmother. It was quite remarkable that the inhabitants of this unusual world spoke a language identical to our English. But, considering this was a parallel world, anything was possible. However, now was not the time for contemplation about local realities…

"You know the answer," I replied succinctly. As I looked at her and our eyes met, I somberly added, "They need our brains."

"Ah know, sugarcube," she nodded grimly, then cast her gaze downward, fixating it on the ground. "It's just that I still cain't rightly get my head 'round it. Ponyville's plumb deserted, we're on our lonesome on our farm, and almost every dang night, these hordes of zombies come at us, may their Poison Joke get 'em! It's pure chaos!"

"Reality is often crazier than one can imagine," I spoke emotionlessly. Indeed, after our scientists on Earth had discovered the portal to an alternate reality, a world of magic and sentient little ponies, I was convinced that nothing in life would ever surprise me again. Nevertheless, I couldn't deny that the disaster that befell us was driving me as insane as it was my friend.

No one was prepared for this. And to this day, no one knew even why it happened. Only at some point, through the portal that connected this world with my native Earth, which was located deep within the Everfree Forest, hordes of the undead began to invade. You might think that for some reason there was a zombie apocalypse on my planet, which was once so beloved by our science fiction enthusiasts. And the mischief of our world immediately spilled over to this one, which had become my new home.

Whether some unicorn who ended up there, like I did here, through an exchange, misused some dark spell, or whether one of our brilliant minds managed to create some virus that began to infect people all over the world and turn them into walking corpses, or whether something else insane occurred in my former home. I still puzzle over the cause of this nightmare, but I only knew one thing for sure – they wouldn't leave us in peace and would keep advancing on Sweet Apple Acres until they swept it clean.

This is what happened in Ponyville over two months ago. Suddenly appearing in unprecedented numbers, hordes of the undead descended upon the interdimensional border post located right next to the portal within the walls of the recently renovated castle, where, as I was told, the local rulers once resided. They wiped out almost all the ponies and humans who maintained the connection between worlds, and the few who managed to escape to the town barely had time to deliver the terrible news before it was evident to everyone, confirming their seemingly insane babbling.

It was on a late July night. The undead horde roared like thunder under a clear sky; they attacked the local residents and their households. They devoured crops, assaulted ponies, and the very few humans who lived here alongside them, killing them and feasting on their brains. As if hunger had seized the dead, which in itself seemed absurd. Many fell victim to this horror, and survivors were saved only by the sudden onset of morning. The zombies hastily retreated, and those who hadn't managed to do so withered away. The light of the local sun proved fatal to them.

However, the threat was far from over. In the shadow of the Everfree Forest, they were teeming, and that's not even considering that on Earth, they likely had a vast reserve always ready to replenish their countless horde. The world was quickly engulfed in the expansion of death, and the ponies were forced to take emergency measures. As a result, the last line of defense against the undead in these parts became Sweet Apple Acres, and its only defenders, no matter what, continued to be me, my partner, and our garden of magical plants, which had become our only hope for survival…

"That's fer sure," finally agreed the ginger pony, probably going through all her past dangerous adventures in her mind, which, as she told me, she had previously experienced with her best friends. But from her emerald eyes, it was clear that nothing crazier than a real war with zombies had ever come her way. Glancing around the surrounding corncobs once again, she quietly said, "It's a good thing Twilight came up with usin' her magic on them sunflowers. Without all these plants, our song would've been sung a long time ago."

"And they are running out," I remarked with a grim irony. Another weary sigh escaped from Applejack's lips.

"Ah reckon we gotta use a bit of that solar water on our home seedlings. 'Cause without it, our seeds might just run out real quick. What's the use of savin' water if there's nothin' to water with, huh?"

"I told you to place garden dwarfs around the yard," I joked with a sarcastic tone, placing my hand on the top of the axe attached to my belt. It was a Canadian model from my world. In response to the skeptically raised eyebrow, which the pony used to express her lack of understanding, I continued in the same emotionless tone: "Who knows, perhaps this water would work on them too? They'd come to life, turn into a mighty army of dawi, and I would lead them into battle against the zombies with this axe as if it were the axe of Grimnir himself."

Having heard my frivolous desires, AJ demonstrated her confusion even more expressively. She had always been an extremely practical pony, and when it came to serious matters, just like now, jokes seemed entirely inappropriate to her. In fact, she often just didn't understand them. Perhaps it was due to my rather insipid tone.

"Y'know, sometimes ya spew pure hogwash," she noted with her characteristic sternness, to which I simply shrugged.

"Don't nitpick; I'm just a little on edge."

"Me too," the blonde admitted, nodding in understanding at my state. Although she understood my condition, she didn't share my particular interest in fantasy. By the way, it took her a while to find out that her older brother was indulging in role-playing games on a similar theme, sharing his hobby with two of his buddies. It has to be said; it's quite a peculiar company…

But, returning to the pressing issue, I agreed with her. Even though we were conserving solar water, which turned various plants into reliable defenders against zombies, it was definitely worth spending some on seedlings that these precious seedlings were preparing for defense against the undead attacks. Like her, in my thoughts, I had already given credit to Princess Twilight Sparkle, whose magic made our sunflowers capable of producing this water, extracted from their seeds, much like sunflower oil. However, the idea to do this belonged to Fluttershy, a devoted lover of various flora and fauna.

This laid the foundation for the defense that Applejack and I have continued to uphold to this day. It's astonishing how the magic of the local ponies – this strange but remarkable energy – can do the impossible, transforming ordinary garden and orchard plants into warriors, real champions of life in the face of the grim visage of death! But, as the catastrophe engulfed the entire world, and Ponyville found itself in an extremely dangerous zone, the Princess of Friendship and the rest of my partner's friends, like almost all the town's residents, urgently relocated to the nearby capital, Canterlot.

Nevertheless, leaving all of Ponyville was out of the question, and it was all because of the Apple Family's orchard. In the face of zombie attacks, the world of little ponies could face starvation, making apples more valuable than bits. Thus, to protect them, there were us, some townsponies who chose not to leave their homes, and a security detachment of guards sent here by the ruler of this wonderful land – Princess Celestia. However, the attacks by the walking dead were frequent and massive. By the time we managed to establish a somewhat reliable defense using plants, most of the remaining ponies in town had perished. In the end, only she and I were left.

The worst part was that with the onset of death in this world, even the nature of its magic began to change. I'm not exactly sure how to explain it, and my friend just shrugs her hooves, being a simple earth pony. But gradually, a certain corruption began to spread among the hills here – a deathly greenish haze that enveloped the lowlands. It was established that living beings caught within it perished very quickly, as if from suffocation, and after some time, they replenished the ranks of the zombie horde. The spread of this corruption, as far as I can tell, was slow but steady, which is why Ponyville was cut off from Canterlot five weeks ago. It seems to me that this is precisely why we haven't seen anyone alive, except for each other, for over a month.

Previously, a convoy of ponies arrived here every week, hitched to wagons that transported apples to the capital. Fortunately, the current tragedy coincided with the harvest season, and we had no shortage of food. These convoys were always accompanied by the royal guards, and at the same time, they often included my partner's older brother and younger sister – Big Mac and Apple Bloom. They helped supply Canterlot with food, and on their return trips, they brought some things to us, primarily seeds and seedlings from other farms that had not yet been affected by zombie attacks.

Princess Twilight and her friends, in turn, were planning to take on the responsibility of assisting other settlements that were now under attack by the undead, ultimately uniting all ponies to resist the common threat. Applejack and I, on the other hand, were defending what was supposed to save everyone from hunger and death, and the ongoing connection with the capital gave us hope that our situation would soon improve. However, no one had shown up from there for a very long time, even strangely enough, by air. The corruption was spreading in the valley that separated both cities, and it seemed like it was about to engulf Ponyville itself. Fortunately, the Apple Family's farm was situated on a high hill, but our protection from this toxic haze was evidently only temporary…

"Well, alright, less yammerin', more hoofin' it. Let's finish plantin' in a jiffy 'cause, ya know…" Applejack spoke, but then she cut herself off. Her ears perked up, listening intently, and her whole body tensed. I, too, tensed up, and my hand quickly moved down to the handle of my axe. After a couple of seconds of rather ordinary paralysis, she turned her gaze toward me and nervously concluded, "So, ya catch my drift, yup?"

"What are we waiting for then?"

With these words, I immediately grabbed the watering can and lamp, both together, ready to continue. What had once again sent shivers down our spines was a long-familiar yet constantly terrifying sound. At night, from the direction of the Everfree Forest, the muffled yet piercing cries of the undead would frequently reach our ears, as if the very souls from the depths of Tartarus were breaking through, instilling fear down to the bone. Yeah, that's where these unholy creatures lurked, and from there they emerged, seeking to plunge this world into their chaos! Therefore, I wasted no time and carried on with our work.

For the first couple of seconds, AJ stood still. Until now, she had been dragging the watering can in her teeth, but now I had taken on that load. She was a hardworking and very strong pony – both in body and spirit – and her independent nature didn't quite appreciate someone else doing her job. But lately, she had been so worn out that my actions simply left her perplexed out of habit. Finally, she didn't refuse my help and silently followed along.

After all, the ginger pony had to carry a saddlebag filled with seedlings, along with apples harvested from those apple trees that had been watered with the same solar water. And now, with the magic having changed these trees, their fruits had turned into weapons. All it took was plucking a stem from them and hurling it at the enemy, and they would explode with incredible force, annihilating the fragile, decaying flesh. It was simply astonishing what their magic could do, something that crossed my mind every time I gazed at those apples, with their wild grimaces, as if they were crying out for destruction!

Quickly catching up with me, Applejack walked alongside. I discreetly glanced at her and noticed a profound weariness on her face, mostly of a moral nature. Since the day no living soul had appeared in Ponyville, she seemed to wither slowly, although she tried not to show her inner turmoil. I knew very well that she missed her family and friends, but even that was just part of the problem. Most of all, she feared that something terrible and irreversible might have happened to them.

I had been thinking for a while now that it might be worth trying to talk to her about this, to maybe lend her some support. And in that moment, when she was free from the burden of carrying the heavy watering can in her mouth, I felt that I could definitely do it.

"I've noticed you don't often talk about your friends and family, about your separation, and what's happening in your world," I remarked, deciding to start from a distance. However, I've never been particularly good at such conversations. In general, I had already become quite convinced that talking about feelings is inexplicably difficult.

"Well, ya ain't spillin' the beans 'bout yer world either," the pony in the hat calmly retorted. Exchanging glances with me as we walked, she explained, "Ah can reckon how rough it's gotta be for ya now, sugarcube! If them weirdos came from yer world, well, Ah reckon things over there are a whole lot rougher. Don't seem right to me to yap 'bout my own woes when y'all probably got a heap more on yer plate."

In response, I let out a thoughtful hum. It never occurred to me that her silence about her inner turmoil was driven by a simple yet genuine politeness. On the other hand, that's how all the ponies are – generally very kind and courteous. This was one of the main reasons I became intrigued by the exchange program between our worlds and the opportunity to witness something unprecedented, not just for a man but for all of mankind.

For a moment, my thoughts were distracted by a bundle of large logs located to our left, right in front of the freshly planted corn. We had set it up specifically to fend off zombie attacks in case they broke through the first line of defense. If we were to cut the ropes – first on the sides and then in the middle – those heavy logs would roll down and sweep away any wave of attack. Fortunately, the hilly terrain of the farmyard allowed us to perform such a trick.

"I thought you were mad at our world," I said without taking my eyes off the bundle of logs we had just passed. It was difficult for me to express this thought, but I tried to clarify, "If it weren't for the portal between our worlds, that entire horde of zombies wouldn't have invaded your home."

"Well, how can we be sure 'bout what's goin' on in yer world at all? Perhaps y'all humans ain't the ones causin' all this mess. Maybe ya just landed yerselves in a pickle, much like we're in now," Applejack reasoned. Then she confidently stated, "But one thing's for certain, it ain't on yer shoulders."

"Yeah, I guess," I expressed a restrained agreement. While I never felt personally guilty for what was happening, I thought that among the ponies, there might be a notion that this disaster, to some extent, had come about because of humans. At least because we established the connection between us and them. I won't deny it; I was pleased to know that my only close friend for miles around didn't see it that way.

As we descended towards the exit of the farm territory, I continued to inspect our defensive lines on the left. Here, we had left the logs behind and approached the two rows of porcelain roses, which had been guarding this defensive line for the past couple of days, as they were the only plants left standing after the recent attack in the southern part of the yard. Some of their petals had even been quite nibbled on by the undead's teeth. Although this wasn't noticeable in the nighttime darkness, especially because the flowers had curled up and dozed off while everything on the horizon remained calm.

Upon seeing those roses, pleasant memories of how they ended up here immediately came to mind. But that blissful thought was interrupted by the farmer's voice:

"Honestly, Ah miss the girls a heap, Granny Smith, Big Mac… and li'l Apple Bloom," she said sadly. After a second's pause, she let out what had been tormenting her for the past few days, "It's plum loco! Ah don't get it, it's been over a month, and there ain't been hide nor hair of anypony from Canterlot? Ah know that 'corruption' creepin' through the valley, like ya callin' it, but why couldn't they just send some pegasus to give us a holler and say they're okay? And how in tarnation have they been survivin'… without apples?"

"I'd think that the zombies had reached them by now if we hadn't been seeing the lights in Canterlot all this time," I shared my observation, which was obvious even without me pointing it out. We had reached the front line of defense, just dozens of meters from the entrance gate, where all the main attacks from the undead originated. In this spot there was still loosened earth, from which the plants that had recently fallen in unequal combat had been uprooted. "Should we plant pea pods in the same place as always?"

"Well, there ain't nothin' better than what we've had," Applejack responded, which could be considered an agreement. Without further words, I retrieved a small shovel from her bag and began digging a hole for the first seedling on this line, involuntarily thinking about how long it would get to survive. In the meantime, she continued the previous topic, "Them lights are troublin' me too. Seems like there are still somepony hangin' on in Canterlot. But why haven't they reached out?"

Digging into the loosened soil, I formed a small pit and stood there in contemplation with a shovel in my hand. This thought had crossed my mind a while ago, but for some reason, I pretended to have just come up with it now.

"Perhaps they think we're already dead?" I pondered.

"We?" the farmerpony asked, somewhat taken aback by this hypothesis. After giving it some thought, it seemed she had concluded that theoretically, such a thing could happen, although it appeared rather absurd. "But… why, in Celestia's name, would they reckon we've been beaten? If that's the case, what's our plan? How d'ya reckon we let 'em know we're still kickin'?"

"As for the first part," I began to speculate, "if the zombies have already reached Canterlot, they might have a reason to believe we didn't make it. It's certainly strange that they could jump to such hasty conclusions. But perhaps that late summer fire could have frightened them."

That incident kept bothering me. As a result of another attack – currently the most massive one – a fire broke out on the farm because I made the mistake of using fire against the undead. And the flames completely consumed the nearby carrot field and the pigsty. Fortunately, we managed to save the animals, and we were able to rebuild the shelter for them together. However, that fire was likely visible in Canterlot. And if, after that, hordes of zombies descended upon the capital, which was highly probable, the ponies there might have thought that the fire was a sign of our demise.

"What 'bout the second part?" the blonde inquired as soon as she absorbed the thought I had shared. Simultaneously, she gave me a pea pod seedling from her bag. I took it from her teeth, and for a moment, it seemed like I was dropping out of reality.

"The most obvious way is to set up a signal fire," I mumbled softly. "We still have plenty of hay. We can lay it out on the other side of the barn and set it on fire."

"Yup, and set the whole farm ablaze," the ginger pony retorted skeptically. Nevertheless, the idea clearly piqued her interest, and just a second later, she made her amendment to it, "Well, if we're headin' down that road, reckon it'd be smarter to put together a mighty big torch. It'd shine brighter and ain't as likely to cause a fire."

"You're the hostess here, it's your call," I didn't argue, as I had always recognized her undisputed authority in all matters related to the farm. Besides, I definitely didn't want that fire incident to happen again.

After placing the seedling in the ground, I gestured to the mare to perform the same procedure she had just done with the corn. The watering was done, and after a few seconds of waiting, a cluster of three gigantic pods grew in front of us. From them, like bullets from a magazine, protruded peas. These peas were the plant's fighting power, capable of literally shooting their cores, which regenerated at an astonishing speed, likely due to magic. They were our cannon batteries, so to say, first-order defensive turrets.

"So, ya reckon them zombies could've gone after Canterlot already?" the farmer spoke up again, placing the watering can on the ground once the huge pods had finished their growth.

"We're not that difficult to bypass," I shrugged. "The Everfree Forest covers quite a wide area. They can advance along its entire line. It's been so long since their first appearance that I'd be more surprised to learn that they haven't enveloped the entire country."

"They done spread all over Equestria, yet here we are, holdin' our ground on this farm like nopony?" AJ said with a breath, visibly startled at the thought. "I just can't fathom how we're still kickin' while everything else is goin' down the drain like crops in a locust attack!"

"Even a small rock stops a giant wave," I replied with a barely noticeable smile. Our gazes met once more, and I detected a subtle question in her emerald eyes. "That's from my favorite epic."

Right after my explanation, a warm smile stretched across Applejack's face. For some reason, my interest in literature always endeared her, especially on these gloomy days. Perhaps this trait reminded her of one of her best friends? Undoubtedly, she was one of those who cherished everything connecting them to the past.

"Yer always goin' on 'bout them books like… a-a!" she exclaimed suddenly, fear in her voice, not finishing her sentence when something crashed behind us. Out of fright, she even moved closer to me and clung tightly to my leg, while I once again reached for my axe. However, as we both turned our gaze towards the source of the noise, we immediately breathed a sigh of relief. It was just a bucket by the well falling onto the nearby rakes and shovels. A small dog, accidentally knocking it over, raced towards us. Watching her swiftly dart past us and then sniffing the freshly grown pods, Applejack chuckled nervously, "Oh, Winona, ya sure spooked me good!"

Hearing her name, the dog paused by the plants and approached her owner with a certain innocence in her expression. She immediately stood on her hind legs and, resting her front paws on the farmerpony's chest, began to lick her freckled cheeks, giving her at least a drop of positivity in this dreadful night.

"It seems she's apologizing," I said with restrained amusement when I saw this endearing scene.

"Momma ain't mad," the pony in the hat smiled as she addressed her pet. Then she sat down, gently pushed her away, and began to pat the dog's head, saying, "Who's a good girl, huh? Who's a good girl?"

In response to the owner's questions, the dog sat still, as if at attention. Well, she was our only companion on the farm, not counting the plants that guarded the tranquility of the yard. Moreover, she was extremely helpful in our defense. Somehow, she could predict zombie attacks. If Winona started barking, you could be sure that a horde of the undead would appear in sight within about ten minutes. She had not been wrong once in all these days.

Seeing Applejack cuddle the little dog, I felt the corners of my mouth involuntarily lift. It was amazing that even in these dark and essentially hopeless times, we still had a little room for warmth and positivity. And it was quite natural; otherwise, we would have simply gone crazy. In such moments, I wanted to live more than ever. Thinking about it, I silently retrieved another seedling from my friend's bag and returned to the task. Since I wanted to live, I had to fight for it. Upon noticing that I had started digging a new hole, my friend hurried to join me after giving Winona one last pat on the back.

The work continued, and we went about our task in the prevailing silence. The dog kept circling nearby, diligently sniffing around as if trying to find something of interest in the farmyard. I tried to choose planting spots with enough open space between them. This was important to ensure that the roses, growing behind, could still attack any approaching zombies, and the peas wouldn't obstruct their line of fire. Although they stood on elevated ground, if the enemies got too close to the first line of defense, these gaps could play a crucial role.

To ensure everything was precisely measured, I constantly glanced towards the barn, but my only measuring tool was my own eye. In earlier times, I would have never imagined that I'd have to combine my agronomic education with strategic thinking, something my partner and I had to learn on the fly during this harsh practical experience. Finally, we planted two more pea pods, and after adjusting the overcoat I wore, I moved on to the next position. The ginger pony, unable to bear the oppressive silence any longer, spoke up again on the same topic:

"If them critters really done spread across all of Equestria, from them Smokey Mountains to Manehattan, then I reckon all our work might just be goin' to waste," she mused. "Our harvest, the one we've been collectin' and protectin', it might not be good for nopony except for us. But… nope, Ah ain't even gonna think 'bout that!"

Without going into detail about her concerns, Applejack hung her head, and her ears drooped sadly. I could clearly see that she was tormented by them. The very thought that the entire country might be taking its last breath right now meant that the ponies dear to her heart were either no longer alive, or their time was running out. Our lives, too, had been hanging by a thread for over a month. To be honest, deep down, I felt the same emotions. However, in recent days, I had been feeling more empty than anything else.

"You always said that no effort is in vain," I tried to encourage her, reminding her of the much brighter past. Her gaze noticeably changed.

"Ah know, Ah know," the ginger mare murmured. There was a hint of tremor in her voice. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at me and concluded, "Of course, this here's mighty important, and Ah ain't 'bout to give up the fight. 'Cause, y'see, we're protectin' my family's farm. Just… to be honest, Ah can't see no end to this mess."

To the left, there was a rustling sound that paused our conversation. I shifted my gaze in that direction and noticed Winona diving into the bushes growing near the fence, to the side of the chicken coop for some reason. However, my attention quickly returned to Applejack, who also got distracted by the dog. I approached her, squatting down and placing my hand on her shoulder. She seemed so engrossed in the rustling leaves that she didn't even notice me approaching, causing her to tense briefly when I touched her. Her large eyes immediately fixed on me.

"I can't see a way out of this mess either. But we should tackle our problems as they come, right? Do you remember our main goal?" I rhetorically asked, confident that she understood what I meant but repeating it for the sake of clarity. "I'm here to protect your brain from them, and you won't let them eat mine, will you?"

"Never," Applejack replied with a faint smile. "Ah need ya with yer head on yer shoulders. After all, we're partners in this, ain't we?"

"Absolutely," I affirmed. "It's a two-person job. At the very least, we can only build that torch together."

"Tomorrow, we'll be up with the roosters and get straight to work," AJ nodded, briefly looking away before returning to the matter at hand… or hoof. "But for now, grab that shovel. We got ourselves a whole cabbage patch to plant."

What should you know about zombies? They're slow, exceedingly clumsy, and quite fragile, yet remarkably strong. Therefore, if you fail to keep your distance from them, they will quickly tear you apart. This problem was solved by our flora, which was enhanced with magic specifically to engage in an unequal battle with the undead hordes. However, even this approach wasn't a perfect solution. It would be foolish to deny that our magical garden could barely maintain parity, and not every plant survived another attack. When these creatures appeared, they came in large numbers, and their assaults were always destructive and relentless.

Our plants did their best, but due to the sheer mass of the undead horde, they managed to break through their counterattacks, despite their sluggishness, closing in on them and devouring everything in their path, from cabbages to corn. Only the roses somehow managed to survive throughout this time, although they too were severely battered in battles. Because of this, my axe had to taste the rotten flesh of zombies, and Applejack's lasso repeatedly tested their neck vertebrae, proving capable of decapitating them. At the very least, this move knocked them off their feet. Nevertheless, we tried to avoid such close encounters since each of them almost cost us our lives.

Truly, death in their vile clutches is horrible! I still can't get out of my head how three friends, who used to sell flowers in Ponyville – Lily, Rose, and Daisy, perished. I was relatively close to them. It was when I learned that these creatures feed on the brains of the living, but… there was nothing I could do about it. Oh, those three mares once helped me choose the roses that now guarded the yard to the south of the barn. I bought them for Applejack… of course, just to suggest diversifying the farm's flora with something decorative and beautiful. She didn't immediately grasp the meaning of my idea, but eventually gave her approval…

In these thoughts, I was driving nails into the bottom of a wide wooden trough to secure it on the log. It was an improvised tip of our enormous torch, which we had been building all day, even postponing our usual daily work of finishing the autumn harvest. Soon, a fire had to be ignited in this vessel, which would serve as proof to the residents of Canterlot that we were still holding on. As soon as I stopped hitting the nail head with a hammer, I heard a question from below:

"Is it fastened?"

Lowering my gaze, I spotted Applejack in the same place where she had been waiting all this time while I completed my part of the work. There was a five-meter height between us.

"Seems like it."

"Does it seem that way, or is it for sure?"

Here it is – Apples' typical thoroughness in everything related to such an important job as construction. And this ginger pony was more dedicated to it than even all her relatives. Carefully rocking the trough in different directions, I vividly demonstrated to her the result of my work.

"Sure thing."

"Alright," the pony in the hat assessed with satisfaction. "If that's the case, then take the hay!"

With these words, she started to walk around the base of the torch. Watching her for just a second, I spontaneously began to evaluate our structure. Essentially, it was nothing more than a log from the trunk of a regular young tree, dug into the ground a couple of meters deep. To obtain it, along with all the other materials except for the hay and trough, we had to take a risky walk to the edge of the Everfree Forest earlier today. Luckily, there were no monsters there yet; the zombies were hiding somewhere deep in the thickets, seeking shade from the sun. Therefore, I had time to work with my axe.

Once the trees were chopped down, my partner and I had to drag them with great effort all the way to the Sweet Apple Acres. Perhaps we would have finished this work much earlier if Applejack had carried them on her own while I was felling wood. But in the current conditions, we never risked splitting up. We spent the morning gathering materials, and then construction began. Smaller logs were used as supports for the main trunk, ensuring it wouldn't topple due to the strong autumn winds, which were quite common this time of year, or for any other reason.

And so one thick log was supported on all sides by six more. Additionally, a much shorter pole was secured directly under the trough as a crossbeam for a makeshift crane. A rope was slung to the right of it, to which a wooden platform was attached, while on the left side, a counterweight in the form of an apple barrel was fastened. With the help of this contraption, the hay destined to become fuel for the torch had to be hoisted up. That was the task Applejack intended to perform, heading toward the respective rope wound around the stake. After all, carrying it up bit by bit on the ladder where I stood would have been time-consuming and inconvenient.

To our misfortune, it started to rain around an hour before evening, causing both the ground and the wood to get soaked, along with the hay. This not only complicated our work but could also pose an obstacle to kindling the fire… if it weren't for our solar water. As practice showed, it was quite flammable, and it was connected to the incident when our pigsty burned down to ashes. So, I wasn't concerned about the flames. Something else was bothering me, but before I could dwell on it again, my attention was drawn to the farmer, who began her task.

Untied with her teeth the knot that was fastened to the stake driven into the ground, Applejack began to pull the rope with all her might, attempting to hoist the hay-laden pallet up to my height. Until then, it had been secured just half a meter above the ground. Despite their relatively small size, these little ponies were quite strong, especially the earth ponies. Moreover, my friend was toughened by rural labor, so the load confidently ascended. However, as soon as she lifted it a couple of meters, one of her hooves awkwardly slid on the soggy ground, causing her to lose control of the situation.

"Jackie!" spontaneously escaped from my lips, while she emitted only a muffled scream through clenched teeth.

The hay pallet instantly crashed to the ground, causing Applejack, who had maintained her grip due to the tension, to be lifted upward to about halfway between the base of the torch and its top. Her hat flew off her head, and she dangled like a pendulum on the rope, clearly stunned by what had just happened.

After the cargo thundered onto the soggy ground, absolute silence fell all around, as if life had hit pause. It's a good thing the pallet didn't shatter. No doubt, one should never work outdoors right after the rain unless it's an emergency. And my partner was probably thinking the same thing… if, of course, she managed to shake off the not-so-pleasant experience of a sudden two-meter lifting so quickly.

"Wait, I'm coming," I announced, hurrying to assist her immediately.

I moved from the ladder to the crossbar where the rope was attached and tried to get my friend out of her quite literal suspended state. Descending onto the log, I wrapped my legs around it as tightly as possible and tried to lift the fallen pallet towards me. Naturally, I understood that I was doing something blatantly foolish. However, in everyone's life, there are moments when they realize they're up to who knows what but continue anyway.

The hay pallet was quite heavy, although hoisting it was not an impossible task. However, my awkward position, combined with the moisture that had soaked into the wood, making it slippery, played a nasty, albeit expected trick on me. Because of the weight I was strenuously pulling towards me, I suddenly spun around the crossbeam, and my descent began in an instant, while my partner's ascent continued. In a fraction of a second, I managed to notice that she was about to collide with the pole. To prevent that, I released the rope at the last moment. Luckily, I landed right on the hay.

After experiencing a relatively soft landing, I instantly rose to my feet and glanced at Applejack. She remained suspended on the rope at the same height as before my failed attempt to resolve the situation. I immediately rushed to help her, this time more effectively, and within a few seconds, my outstretched arms were around her waist. She was tense but not clenching the rope with her teeth in a death grip, which made it relatively easy for me to take her down and set her on the ground.

"Are you okay?" I immediately expressed my concern. Meanwhile, I picked up her hat and, after shaking off its slightly dirtied edges, placed it back on her head.

"I'm fine," she exhaled and finally raised her eyes to me. "And y'alright? Ain't hurt, are ya?"

"No," I shook my head. After a brief moment of silence, a soundless chuckle escaped me involuntarily. "If someone saw our acrobatics just now, they probably wouldn't believe that we've been surviving zombie attacks all this time."

"Yup, that was somethin', all right," she chuckled back, a bit nervously. Catching her breath, she changed the subject with a good-natured smile. "How 'bout we give that another shot together?"

Certainly, I accepted her offer without hesitation. With four hooves and two sets of teeth (not to mention four legs), we got the job done faster, more efficiently, and with greater confidence. Once the pallet was hoisted to the top of the torch, we secured the rope with another stake, and it was time for the hay. I climbed back up the ladder and began moving the fuel for the fire into the trough, while my ginger companion waited below, keeping an eye out for any potential threats. After all, those dead creatures hadn't attacked us for three days straight, and such a lull usually meant only one thing – a storm was brewing.

The hay was laid out, drenched with the sunwater I'd prepared in a flask on my belt, and all that remained was to strike a match. There were plenty left in my matchbox, brought from Earth, and I used one to ignite the flame. Once the deed was done and the torch was burning, I descended and quickly stowed the ladder against the barn wall, near the northwest corner where we had constructed our contraption. In the meantime, I noticed that our little company had just been joined by Winona, who had previously been running around in the carrot beds but was now drawn, perhaps, to the newly lit fire.

Sitting at the base of a small haystack, where we gathered hay for the fire, AJ gazed at the top of the torch with a growing sense of inspiration, as if it intensified as the fire lit up. I repositioned the ladder back to its original spot and watched her in awe. She appeared as if she had come back to life, as if she were looking at the spark of our shared hope. A faint smile even crossed her face when she saw the flames reach higher and higher towards the twilight sky. Following her lead, something made me smile too. Well, it had always been heartening for me to see her even a bit happier, especially in these dark times.

After about half a minute, I caught myself blatantly staring at her. And when she suddenly turned to look at me out of the blue, I pretended to make a final adjustment to the ladder and stepped away from the barn wall to join her. Soon, I sat down next to her, and together we stared at the fire. Although at times, I lowered my gaze below and ran it along our structure. In bygone days, I wouldn't even have believed it was possible to build something like this in just one day, including material acquisition. I'd never been a jack-of-all-trades, so in the past, even this unimposing tower would have seemed like a sufficiently challenging project to take at least a week.

During our solitary stay on Sweet Apple Acres, we often found ourselves building various structures. We erected additional storage units for our harvested crops, rebuilt the burned-down pigsty, covered the chicken coop walls with whatever metal sheeting made from whatever we could find in Ponyville houses to keep the zombies from tearing them down and feasting on our chickens, and much more. While I had to learn the ropes of this craft through practice, my friend was just as skilled at it as she was with apples. Well, her skills and organizational abilities in this matter were incredibly valuable to us, and it was thanks to her that we managed these construction projects so swiftly.

Finally, I gazed at the fire once again. Inside me, like the fire, a pleasant sense of accomplishment warmed. Now, I understood more and more why my partner loved working. But, perhaps, above all, it was the faint hope that kept me going, even if it was just a shadow of it, but we could reasonably expect it to come true. Even though it seemed nearly impossible, considering we had been cut off from the rest of the world for over a month. I didn't know the reason for the silence from Canterlot, but I wanted to believe that everything would be clarified soon, and someday we would remember this circumstance as just a notable incident from our past.

"Here we sent our message," I suddenly said, deciding to break the silence after a few minutes.

"Them lights in Canterlot still a-shinin'?" Applejack immediately inquired.

We exchanged glances. Yes, from the top of the torch, Canterlot was visible beyond the sea of the northern apple orchard canopies. The only place not visible was Ponyville, as its houses were nestled in a valley just beyond the high hills. The best vantage point, where you could see the entire Ponyville valley, was from the terrace of the carrot farm building, adjacent to the Apples' estate and not even separated from it by a fence. In the past, a pony named Golden Harvest lived there, but she and her whole family moved to Canterlot along with everyone else. Since then, both farms had effectively become one.

However, while on top of the torch, I saw the most important thing. Therefore, my answer was prompt and precise:

"Yes, they are."

I couldn't stop looking at Applejack as she once again fixated on the flame, but this time with a shadow of sadness on her face. It seemed as if the flickers from the torch were attempting to ward off the encroaching darkness that loomed over her. In vain.

"Ah hope they're all right," she whispered quietly, expressing her deepest wish. She hadn't often spoken about the feelings that filled her, but after our conversation yesterday, she seemed more inclined to share. "Ya know, Ah afraid them lights might just be foolin' us. If yer right about them zombies hittin' Canterlot, those lights could be on 'cause there ain't nopony left to douse 'em. But if that's true, then…"

Unable to complete her words, she merely swallowed convulsively. It was not difficult to understand what emotions she was experiencing and who she was primarily concerned about at the moment.

"So you believe there's no one left alive there?" I asked, thinking that she needed to express herself. I had suspected earlier that this fear was tormenting her. Looking at me again, her expression softened slightly.

"Yup, a plumb silly thought," the pony in the hat conceded. "If day an' night keep takin' turns, it's a sign them Princesses are alive for now. An' if they're alive, Canterlot's gotta be alive in there too."

"And as long as Canterlot lives, Equestria lives," I replied with irony and a touch of nostalgia, referencing a similar saying from my world.

"Right, like a ripe apple!" affirmed the ginger mare, gracing me with yet another sweet smile. With her agreement, she seemed to be seeking more confidence for herself and from me. Still, doubts lingered. "On t'other hoof, they might've trotted off somewhere else, like the Crystal Empire or who knows where. Ah got no clue 'bout how t' explain why day an' night are still doin' their usual switcheroo while Canterlot's quieter than a scarecrow in th' orchard. But… how could they have up and left the city, leavin' us here on our lonesome?"

"Unless they marked us as deceased before leaving," I countered, hinting at my assumption from yesterday regarding the fire. Her mournful gaze returned to me, yet not a single counter-argument escaped her lips. I had to come up with one myself. "But I don't think, at the very least, your friends wouldn't have made sure of that before fleeing. They would have definitely sent someone for us, or they would have found their way here themselves."

"Right, Rainbow Dash would fer sure flown over to us, an' Twilight too," Applejack said, trying to suppress her inner worry. "But, y'know, they might not even be in Canterlot. The girls wanted to round up all the ponies to tackle this disaster all together. Right now, they could be anywhere, in any corner of Equestria. Although, if they pull it off, Ah reckon we won't have to wait long for help. With all of 'em together, they're sure to figure out how to get us out of here. With so many heads, they're bound to!"

"That's when our harvest will come in handy," I added, imagining how much food the city would need when ponies from all over the country gathered.

"Yup, and now they'll know we're still kickin' and that we have it," Applejack concluded on an optimistic note. Following this, Winona approached her, interested in the reason we were sitting on the hay. She sniffed around, searching for an answer to the dog's unspoken question, and her owner embraced her, holding her gently. The dog didn't resist the owner's hug. Holding her in her hooves, Applejack returned to gazing at the fire, and after a quarter of a minute, she suddenly sighed with delight. "It's so amazin'… blazin' like that, Ah'd bet my boots ya could spot it from the Royal Palace windows. And it's got that cozy feel… kinda like Hearth's Warmin' Day!"

"Yeah," I said in solidarity with her. "It's just the company that's missing."

"Why, ain't we company, ya and me?" she kindly countered. When our eyes met again, she couldn't hold back and spoke candidly. "Thank ya for pullin' yer weight with me. Can't imagine what it'd be like if Ah were all alone here."

"I thought I was more of a nuisance to you," I quipped unseriously, alluding to the pigsty fire and a few other incidents that had happened before this catastrophe.

"Don't talk hogwash, sugarcube," she replied good-naturedly, realizing I was mostly joking. "We gotta shield the farm and the crops from them undead critters, and one pony just won't do. Like ya said, this job's for two, ya might say, it's our own seven-legged race, or maybe even a very real friendship mission! Without each other, we'd be in a real pickle. Ah'd be plum lost without ya."

To be honest, her words really touched me. And, as I could tell from her smile and the slightly trembling, beautiful eyes, she had just poured out the most sincere emotions. I could hardly come up with anything worth saying, so I simply wrapped my arm around her shoulder with all the warmth. I didn't often allow myself to hug her since she wasn't one to go for saccharine sweetness. But right now, I could count on her not objecting in the slightest. Then again, all ponies enjoyed hugging, and when it came to friends, Applejack was no exception.

It seemed like she considered me a friend through and through, which made me quite happy. This was evident from the fact that she often called me "sugarcube" in her usual manner. It was a term she typically used to refer to her best friends and relatives, and eventually, she extended that affectionate nickname to me as well. Being her "sugarcube" meant a lot.

"Thank you," I responded to her words. However, her expressions about the fire had me contemplating a bit. Now, as the two of us and the little dog huddled close to each other and warmed ourselves by the torch and our unity, it did resemble that holiday celebrated in Equestria just before the coming of the New Year. With that thought in mind, I decided to suggest something. "Speaking of Hearth's Warming Day… how about we have a mug of hot cider each? I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a bit chilly after working in the rain."

A broad smile spread across AJ's face. Clearly, she liked the idea.

"Ya got it! Just need to fetch a barrel from the cellar, and we can wet our whistles!.."

"Y'know, as Granny Smith always says, when ya see apples in the cellar, it makes ya appreciate life twice as much," Applejack remarked, walking at a leisurely pace down the central aisle of the cellar and surveying the barrels of the named fruit. I followed behind her. "All these supplies would be enough to fill everypony's belly in Canterlot for a year or more. Oh, Ah wish we could make good use of all this soon…"

"The important thing is for it to go to use at all," I calmly pointed out, surveying the results of our labors over the past month, just like she was. "Don't forget, there are plenty of reasons why we might be staying in this place for quite a while. We're not even sure we haven't lost the reason to protect this stock."

"What are ya talkin' 'bout? We done made our torch, set it ablaze, so now all that's left is for it to be seen," she firmly declared, pausing and looking back at me over her shoulder. As I shrugged in response, indicating no objections, her hooves moved on. "But no matter what, we always got a good reason to defend our stock. We can't just let them zombies have all these apples, can we?"

"I don't disagree."

We were heading towards the end of the cellar, where smaller barrels were standing. Looking at those containing apples, I couldn't help but agree that this stockpile, especially in current times, could be accurately called a treasure trove. All of it was the result of our daily work in the orchard, a workload that was almost non-stop. However, the main burden fell on my partner, who did not want to give the apples to the zombies or time itself, given that the cold weather was approaching.

Meanwhile, I was more on the pickup, though now and then I'd knock some apples from the branches with a pole too. But my contribution wasn't all that grand compared to Applejack, who knocked down nearly all of them with just a precise strike from her strong hind hooves to the trunks. But we divided the task of sorting apples by quality and delivering them to the farm equally. In one month's time, we filled up the entire cellar, with about fifty barrels stored on top inside the barn, and some stashed in the newly built sheds. There was no doubt that with such a stockpile, a hungry year could feed a whole town.

"Ya know, it's real lucky we wrapped up gatherin' from the south orchard right on time," continued the farmer. "My heart'd shatter if them critters got ahold of those apples! Ah'd rather give the harvest to the fruit bats; they're even less voracious than these zombies."

"We're almost done with the north orchard too, so you could say we've got it all taken care of."

"Hold your horses, buddy," she gently chided me for jumping to conclusions. Her little sayings always brought a smile to my face. "We've still gotta tackle 'bout a dozen apple groves, so don't go rushin' into relaxin'. It wouldn't hurt to wrap 'em up pronto 'fore them apples get all overripe. It's nearly October."

"Just two days left," I reminded.

"We'll give 'em our darndest," AJ stated, and then stopped in front of one of the smaller barrels, which she seemed to have noticed right away. After reading the notes with Granny Smith's rather crooked mouthwriting on it, she announced, "Yup, this cider is from the harvest two years ago! Ah reckon it's had a good long time to settle. It's just what we need."

"Need any help with that?" I offered right away as soon as Applejack started maneuvering the barrel to hoist it onto her back.

"Don't ya fret, sugarcube, Ah can manage it solo. Ah've toted them barrels share in my lifetime, you best believe," the ginger pony grinned, and, as she gripped it with her hooves, she added, "Well, ya warm it up, is that okay?"