It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at the stomping grounds.

They were greeted with a mix of friendly faces and strangely sullen looks. One young warrior who recognized her led them into the herd's encampment.

Much was as she recalled: the hot, rich musk that filled her nose and thickened the air, the broad shoulders of the warriors and gangly awkwardness of the calves. The Old Mothers tending to the children, and the young braves sharpening their horns on the rocks.

But something was different. There were fewer children, more grey in the herd, and everywhere there was weariness in bodies and dullness in eyes. Even the warriors seemed tired and haggard. The few games of head-butting she saw held a fraction of the fury she remembered. Where the plains had thundered with their charges, there was a stagnant calm. And in the warm, musky air was a new scent. She knew it instantly, had known it from her earliest memories. Butter, sugar…and apples.

The warriors parted and she saw Chief Thunderhooves. She stopped with a start.

"Chief Thunderhooves?!"

He had doubled in size, so his tangled mane lay atop mounds and rolls of flesh, and his skinny sticklike legs sprawled out from his bulk as he lay on his side. His face, buried in greasy fur, was swelled and red, and crusted with sugar and crumbs. Pie tins lay everywhere around him. He was lazily licking an empty dish that he held over his face, eyes closed in something like ecstasy.

One of the warriors stepped forward and whispered in his ear as she approached. He grunted, brushed him away. Again, the buffalo stepped forward and murmured to the chief. Thunderhooves opened one eye, blinked at Applejack. After a moment he looked away and returned to slowly licking the wet, crusted pie tin.

Pinkie gaped. Applejack decided to try herself.

"Chief Thunderhooves, it's me. Applejack."

The warrior who had murmured in his ear shook his head, moved away from the chief. He spoke with a rumble that was deep and soft and sad.

"He will be like this for some hours yet. It is always so, when he has been deep in the pies. He will neither recognize nor acknowledge anyone until the daze has passed."

But Applejack pushed forward to Thunderhooves' side. She loudly and slowly, almost yelling in his ears, with a short pause between each word.

"Chief Thunderhooves, it's Applejack. We met a few years back? We need to talk about Appleoosa…"

With a huff, Thunderhooves rolled away from her, and fumbled for another tin, less scoured then the last. Over his mounded body, she heard slurping and licking.

Her eyes furrowed. No one ignored the Apple family. She lifted her voice to a yell.

"CHIEF THUNDERHOOVES! I. Need. To. Talk. With. You. NOW GET YERSELF UP!

The licking stopped. Applejack waited for the chief to turn over and look at her. After a moment, she heard snores.

Her mouth hung open as another buffalo approached her from the side.

"Best to leave him, little one. Sleep is the only peace he has these days."

His name was Sunmane, with bright, amber fur, and he boiled sweet-grass tea as he talked. On the horizon, the sun was falling towards the earth and mountain-shadows splintered across the land.

"At first, the earth-ponies brought us all the pies we could eat. We gorged ourselves on them, so rich and hot and full of joy they were. We would lie for hours, enjoying the taste that lingered in our mouths, and the sweet fog that came over our heads. Some days, when we had eaten from dawn, we even forgot to run. We grew fat and happy and each day we looked forward to the next feast."

"Soon, even the sweetest grass lost its joy for us. We only wanted the pies, and pie was all we had. Sunshine and rain, friendship and love, nothing was more important than the pies, once a buffalo had tasted them."

"Soon, though, the ponies stopped bringing us so many. They said they didn't have enough, although they had more apples than ever. We took what they gave us anyway, and didn't complain. Every day they sent fewer and fewer, until he could hardly fill ourselves anymore."

"Soon, some of us were so desperate for more that we went to the ponies and begged them for more. Now the strongest braves don't butt or run, but go to labor in the orchards from sunrise to darkness, in return for a few slices. The rest of us make do as we can, although Chief Thunderhooves always demands a portion of the herd's stock. He hardly moves any more. He lies in his dishes and dreams of more.

Applejack held a sullen silence, and barely glanced at the cup of tea he pushed to her. Pinkie, though, threw it back and raised her voice.

"Well, I don't get it. I mean, everyone loves apple pies…but getting hooked on them? How's that work? It'd be like getting hooked on parties! How can a good thing be…bad?"

Sunmane shook his head sadly.

"We don't know, little one. Perhaps we're unused to them. Perhaps they affect us differently. But once we taste the pies, we lose ourselves to them."

Pinkie Pie sat up arrow-straight.

"Well, it's obvious then. Docter Pinkie never thought she'd say thing, but enough is enough. No more pies.

Applejack nodded with approval.

"Pinkie's right. We'll go down to Appleoosa right now, tonight. We'll explain everything, and they'll cut off the pies. Then Chief Thunderhooves will have to stop and listen."

She had half started away when Sunmane shook his head again.

"If only it were that simple. You don't think the town knows about this? Of course they know. Perhaps they knew from the very beginning. Perhaps this was their plan. We don't know. All we know is that our youngest and strongest labor in their orchards for crusts, and waste themselves in the gutters at night, too ashamed or too uncaring to return to where they belong."

Pinkie narrowed her eyes in a most uncharacteristic fashion.

"But that's…that's just…that's no fun at ALL!"

He looked at her with sad, sad eyes, and said nothing.

"Where's Little Strongheart?" Applejack burst out.

Sunmane turned to her, and his eyes went darker.

"That's a sad tale, little one. Full of shame and regret."

Applejack continued to ignore her tea, and furrowed her brows.

"Well, I'm asking. He's her father."

There was a long silence, punctuated by wheezing breaths from sleeping buffalo. Finally, Sunmane sighed, and looked to the ember-blue horizon.

"She left. Not long after the trouble started. She tried everything she could think of to help her father, but he just sank deeper and deeper into his pies. Finally, she gave up. Plenty who felt as disgusted as she did followed. Perhaps a third of the tribe."

"When did this happen?"

"A few months ago. Chief Thunderhooves hasn't spoken of her since. He forbids mention of her in his presence. But sometimes…sometimes we hear him call her name in his sleep."

Sunmane invited them to stay for the night, but Applejack declined. Partly, she didn't want her aunt to worry, but privately, she was beginning to be sick at the smell of pie.