The heavy rain fell down upon the earth so suddenly. No one saw it coming, not even the animals, for it was unnatural, and evaded all senses they had. Winds flowed through the farm like a raging river, pushing away all in its path, leaving no stone unturned and leaving behind chaos. The dogs had taken shelter in the barn, shivering from the cold.

The farmer, however, sat in his rocking chair in front of a warm fire, a shotgun in his lap and a cloth in one hand. He was shrouded in shadow, as the power had gone out, the only source of light coming from the fire. Even then, light seemed to evade the man's face, as if afraid to touch it and reveal him to the world. He whistled a ghostly tune, that, even though it was Camptown Races, seemed to be stone cold eerie, twisted almost beyond recognition as he wiped away what little grime there was from the weapon.

Outside, a young boy about the age of 15 and with dusty blond hair, tanned skin and pale blue eyes, had been trudging through the muddy cornfield, picking as much corn as he could and putting it in the basket. The moment the basket was full, he turned and started to move, only for his leg to get caught in the mud, causing him to fall with a sickening crack and a thud. He let out a scream that was deafened by the sudden flash of lightning and the roar of thunder.

He stared down at his leg, blood running cold as he saw that it was bent in the wrong direction. He could even see the blood soaking through his jeans, despite the rain that attempted to wash it off. With a whimper, he pulled himself along the ground with his arms, unable to get up due to the searing pain, and under a tall and proud apple tree, which stood mighty and strong against the fierce winds. It was the only thing protecting him from the rain.

"Pa! Help me!" he cried out, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the rain. "Pa! Please, help!" he cried again, but to no avail. The only response he would get was the drumming sound of water hitting the ground. He slammed his fist into the ground, letting out a burst of sobbing. He should have listened, he thought. He should have finished his chores sooner. Maybe then he'd be inside, safe and sound.

His thoughts were suddenly cut off, however, when he felt the ground beneath him rumble for a short moment, the sound of thunder following immediately after. He looked to his left to find a scorch mark on the ground. Lightning had struck so close to him. If he had been in that spot, he'd be dead. He let out a heavy sigh and stared ahead into the distance. It had been a hard year for him, full of bad memories.

He placed a hand on the bark of the apple tree. His mother had planted it there when she was a small girl. It was the only thing he had left of her, and here it was, protecting him from the rain like she would have. He sat there for several minutes, resting against the tree and staring at his broken leg.

It looked pretty bad, bent in the opposite direction of where it was supposed to go. He looked in the direction of the house which was heavily concealed by a heavy fog rolling in. The storm seemed to be getting worse, and he couldn't stand the cold much longer. He had to get inside somehow.

Grabbing onto a low-hanging branch of the tree, he attempted to hoist himself up, only to fall back down after a surge of pain shot through his mangled leg. He let out a scream of both pain and frustration, but the sound barely traveled due to the constant thunder and rain. His eyes welled up with tears.

He couldn't take it anymore. He slammed his fists against the bark, screaming with incoherent language. As if in response, the tree made a crackling noise as it leaned toward him. Lightning had struck the tree multiple times earlier and he hadn't even noticed. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the falling behemoth.

-
Meanwhile, in Sweet Apple Acres.
-

Applejack looked outside at the rain from the front door of her home. "That's funny. We weren't scheduled for a storm today," she said to herself. "Granny! Was rain on the schedule?" she hollered.

Instead of answering back with a shout of her own, Granny Smith dragged herself over to the front door. "Ah don't think so... But I'd hardly call this a storm! Why back in my day, we had rain AND hail AAAAAND we had floodin'!" she bragged.

"I know, Granny, I know," Applejack replied with a smile. They both looked out at the rain.

"It's peaceful, ain't it? Just listenin' to the sound of it," Granny commented. Applejack nodded in response and listened to all the droplets hitting the earth, which in turn would help the apple trees stay big and strong. The very thought of it made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. Soon, Big Macintosh would join in and listen with them, then Applebloom would come along and listen too.

"It's gettin' pretty windy..." Applebloom muttered.

"Eyup," replied Big Mac, turning around to head back inside. He'd had enough of the cold for now. Applebloom followed her older brother back inside as well, followed by Granny Smith, leaving only Applejack. The rain may not have been expected, but it was nice. She watched for several minutes before turning around to head inside, but something made her stop. A crackling noise. She'd recognize that sound anywhere. One of the apple trees had fallen.