Non-Existent

Prologue

"Ah'll be fine, honest." Was the reassurance she had tried to push onto her grandmother and older brother when they explained they were going to be away for a while; something about visiting far away family because her grandmother's sister is gravely sick, so how could she have possibly shown them any indication of fear on her part?

Honestly, she weren't afraid of the dark anyhow, or being in a huge house in the middle of the countryside alone – it was exactly why she had given her younger sister the thumbs up when she had asked to go stay at a friend's for the night. What she hadn't expected, however, was the oncoming storm. Of course, she had dealt with the fair few times a vicious hurricane would tear into parts of the building; in fact, she had offered alongside a group of other lovely country folk to rebuild the damage, even in torrential rain, but the big difference this time was that she were entirely alone, and the weather forecast had spoken nothing of this sort of weather to come anytime soon. Besides, it had been as dry as the desert in terms of rain.

A few hours earlier she had attempted to get some rest, but even burying her head under a dozen pillows had done nothing to drown out the sound of the heavy rain pelting against the thin glass of her bedroom window, and the thunder and lightning that shook the ground could be felt, even a few stories up where she had been trying to rest. So, eventually, she had grunted, groaned, and thrown herself out of bed, and now, she sat in the huge kitchen with a cup of coffee enclosed around her hands, and the buzz and dull drone of late night television tickling her ears, underneath an orchestra of storm.

She had never been fond of coffee, but she had to have something to give her energy if she were going to be lacking in sleep; she would have her work cut out for her in a few hours when the sun rose – checking for damage, possible repairs, cooking a nice breakfast for her sister returning, and then there was the farm work, of course.

Every once in a while a particular boom and rumbling of the ground would almost catch her off guard, but the storm seemed nothing off the norm; and she was happy to conclude she doubted there really would be any real damage – perhaps a few wood panels out of place and a few trees damaged, but she could work on that herself easily.

But what literally threw her off guard, was the loudest sound that had ever graced her ear drums with the feeling of them ready to burst; it was like an explosion, her chair toppled to the side and she went with it, with no means of supporting herself as her hands flew up protectively to clamp over her ears. She cried out in pain, landing heavily on her side, her jaw clenched as her knee hits the ground tiles with a cracking sound she knows isn't healthy.

She scrambles in a pathetically embarrassing way to her feet, when the ground begins to rumble so strongly she can't keep her balance, and she finds herself almost toppling over the kitchen table, though luckily, she bites her lip to fight away the pain in her knee enough to focus on her hands gripping the edges of the table to support herself.

And then, she smells burning.

There isn't much time to think, the blonde simply jumps into action; pulling the thin blanket she had draped over her shoulders away and holding it under one arm as she pushes herself away from the table; breaking out into a painful run to the front doors of her home.

It takes a few minutes of fumbling with keys, due to shaky hands, to unlock the door, and when the deed is done, she breaches the cold night air, and is soaked in seconds from the heavy rain. It threatens to drown out her vision, but she refuses to succumb to it, and she pulls the blanket over her head as she begins to run to the barn; ablaze in a colour scheme of reds, oranges, and yellows.

Her bare feet sink into the wet mud everytime they hit the ground heavily, and though she's almost out of breath by the time she reaches the large wooden doors of the barn, a relief washes over her at the realisation the cattle that used to reside in their were moved a while back into a new, refurbished barn. But that didn't mean she could simply allow it to crumble.

As her brain began to function once more, she was about to run back to her home to grab supplies to douse the fire; knowing that even if she called the emergency services, it would be far too late before they arrived. Country folk took care of themselves; always.

And that's when she heard something cry out. The sound was dreadful, a mix between a howl of pain and a monstrous noise she hadn't even heard in those horror movies her sister would insist she watched with her.

Without a second thought, her shoulder hits the heavy barn doors enough to force them open, and she stumbles into chaos.

With her brain working into overdrive, she can't hear the crackling of the fire all around her from the whirring in her ears; her senses begin to diminish already, her eyes clouding over as she begins to feel light headed. And it's awful, to her; it seems just as bad as the overdramatic action movies. But it doesn't stop her pushing forward, shouting out a muffled "Where are ya?!" as loud as her voice can manage, before she breaks into a fit of coughing and spluttering.

There's nothing for a long time, besides wooden roof panels beginning to fall, and she decides she needs to focus on keeping herself alive long enough to reach the back, before she can do anything for the person trapped inside.

By the time she draws closer, her knees are weak and she begins to feel that maybe she had simply just misheard the noises outside for someone actually being in pain.

But then, forcing her strength into pushing a large fallen piece of wooden roof aside, she realises, oh, she was definitely right.

And with an accidental gasp that makes her swallow a mouthful of thick black smoke, her emerald gaze meets with the most beautiful, and terrifying sight of her entire life.

Applejack had never believed in angels.

...

A/N;

I kept the use of her name out of the prologue because I didn't deem her the centre of everything at that particular time; I suppose it sounds odd but I guess it may only make sense to me. This story is humanised; though it's not entirely visible here. I suppose I'll leave it up to interpretation right now, for who the angel is.