The Traditions of Empty Nests
by Ceffyl Dwr
With a squeak of dismay, Junebug slipped and fell.
“Damn it!” Limestone Pie’s rebuke dissolved into a curse as she watched her marefriend twist sharply away from the smooth curve of the rock face, forelegs slapping against it as they attempted to find purchase in the thin networks of crevices and cracks. Junebug was only five meters or so above the ledge they had stopped to rest on, but Limestone still had to fight against a sickening paralysis as she reacted; her jaw clenched painfully as she pulled the brake rope hard. The long graze on her foreleg, muddy against the grey of her coat, burned with the effort, but Limestone ignored it.
The uppermost climbing nut held firm in its crevice as the rope snapped taunt, despite Junebug having not tested it before continuing her ascent. Limestone braced a hind leg against one of the rocks at her hooves as she took the weight of her marefriend, the harness she wore pulling tightly against her hindquarters. Above, Junebug squeaked again as her fall was sharply arrested, one of her trailing hind legs crunched into the rock face as she swung to a gradual halt.
“June, you okay?” Limestone shouted. Her words sounded tight and strained in the still mountain air as she started to lower her marefriend. “June?” Damn it! Why wasn’t she answering?
After a moment, Junebug shuddered and looked over her shoulder. “I will be when I’m back on the ground,” she replied shakily. “I’d even take that tiny strip of rock you kept calling a ledge earlier.”
Idiot. Though she should have been relieved by the attempt at a joke, Limestone just felt the blood pounding in her ears. “Just... hang on", she snapped, feeding the rope through the belay device attached to her harness. As Junebug’s hind legs reached the hard surface of the ledge she let out a relieved whinny and slumped onto her rump.
“Whew.” She looked up at Limestone, her green eyes twinkling in the afternoon light, and smiled a shaky smile. “Sure is turning into a pretty exciting Sunday, huh?”
Limestone opened her mouth, before giving up and snorting loudly. Turning, she stamped the couple of meters to the end of the ledge. It felt as though her blood was boiling in her veins and it hurt to stand still. Was she serious? Quartz dust! How could one mare be so stupid? Limestone paused at the edge, drawing long, deep breaths, willing the chill air to cool her body. The heather-flecked hills and open plains below were painted a harsh orange by the sun, clouds casting hard black shadows across them. Her head buzzed.
“Are you hurt?” she said at last.
“Just my pride, I think.” After a moment Limestone heard a low hiss. “Actually, maybe not.”
Limestone glanced over her shoulder to see Junebug rubbing a hind leg. Frowning, she trotted over to inspect it. A deep gash ran like a broad river against the pale apple-green of Junebug’s coat, and Limestone felt her stomach tighten at the sight of it stretching from fetlock to hock.
“What were you thinking, you stupid mare?” she snapped. The earlier fear and shock had melted quickly into something sharp, something worse. “I told you we had to take this section slow, not scale it like a madpony!”
Junebug’s eyes widened at the outburst, though the smile remained on her face. The smile was always on her face. “I just slipped, Limey, that’s all. No harm done.” She grimaced as she stretched her injured hind leg. “Well, not much anyway.”
“Idiot!” Limestone barked, unsure of what else to say. Her frustration spilling over, she bucked one of the large stones scattered across the ledge behind her. The crack as her hooves made contact sounded like a thunderbolt. “Stop turning everything into some dumb joke for once!” She glared down at Junebug’s leg and felt her cheeks burn. “This is why I said I should be lead climber. You don’t know what you’re doing!”
The smile became loose then, hesitant. Limestone shouldn’t have got any satisfaction from that, but in that moment it was hard not to. “Heeey,” her marefriend protested. “I do too! I’ve been getting lessons, remember?”
“Oh sure, lessons.” Limestone tossed her head. “Fine, I won’t worry then, because my marefriend has been getting climbing lessons from a bucking idiot!” She stamped her hoof. “You’re so... dumb sometimes, June. That last nut nearly pulled free. Do you know what could have happened if it had?”
Junebug twisted a hoof through orange strands of sweat-slicked mane, the smile regaining its strength. “Um... I could have broken your record for the descent?”
“Quartz dust!” Limestone screamed. Spots of white exploded across her vision. “What is wrong with you?”
“Calm down, Limestone, I’m just—”
“Just—Just don’t! Don’t.” Limestone stormed over to where their saddlebags sat nestled against the bottom of the rock face, her eyes burning. “Holder give me strength. Why is every pony in my life so damn selfish!?”
“I was trying—Wait, selfish?”
“Did I stutter?” Limestone felt her legs tremble as she pulled out a roll of bandages from her saddlebag. “You all just do whatever you want, without thinking for second—not a single second, June,” she added quickly, on seeing her marefriend open her mouth. “About how it might affect others. You could have been seriously hurt. You could have—”
Suddenly Marble Pie’s cold eyes were staring at her, and Limestone’s words turned to sand in her mouth. She shook her head fiercely, but the vision remained, and so she scrunched her eyes shut instead. Focusing on her breathing didn’t help at all, and gradually her anger collapsed into a terrible, hollow void. Beads of sweat broke out across her brow and body; a cold, wet blanket enveloping her.
Marble’s eyes were still staring, hard and resolute. Alien.
Full of tears.
“Argh, damn it!” Limestone’s shriek finally banished the vision, and the roll of bandages fell from her hoof. Feeling the strength leave her trembling body, she dropped down beside Junebug, sitting on her rump and pressing her back and withers against the cool, rough rock face. In front of her, the hazy horizon was surrendering itself to a churning line of clouds. Limestone had never seen the ocean during a storm before, but she imagined that was what it must look like. She was suddenly struck by an unbearable yearning. It only lasted a few seconds, but it left behind such desperate feelings of anger and guilt in its wake.
After a few moments, Junebug cleared her throat. “Well,” she said, the cheerful scratch of her voice muted. “It really has been exciting today.”
Limestone looked down at the rock-strewn ground, her throat feeling far too narrow. She picked up the roll of bandages and slowly opened one out, focusing intently on the task. “Come on,” she said. “Let me fix up your dumb leg.”
Junebug was silent as her leg was bandaged, despite Limestone having to lift and move it as she worked. That didn’t surprise Limestone in the slightest—despite her airy personality Junebug was an earth pony after all—but she nevertheless felt a sense of pride and respect for her marefriend, one that sat uncomfortably alongside her frustration with her.
“So,” Junebug said eventually. “Are you okay, Limey?”
“I’m fine.” Limestone tied the bandage off and inspected it. “That okay?”
“Are you sure?” Junebug ignored the question, tilting her head to try and make eye contact. “I am really sorry if I worried you—I guess I was trying to show off a little—but you’ve been grumpy all weekend. Is it something I’ve done?”
“Try being a reckless idiot!” Limestone barked. “And I haven’t been ‘grumpy!’” She pulled her gaze up, silently challenging Junebug to make the claim again.
Her marefriend’s smile was reaching her eyes. “Oh you have too, and you know it. You barely said anything to me at all during the honey festival yesterday. Or last night.”
Limestone returned to her position beside Junebug and folded her forelegs. “What do you want me to say, June? The festival was boring.”
Junebug scrunched up her muzzle, the smile disappearing. Limestone saw the change of expression out the corner of her eye and sighed. There were occasional moments when she wanted nothing more than to wipe the ever-positive smile off her marefriend’s face. Whenever she succeeded, though, it never felt as good as she imagined it would. In fact it felt awful.
She looked down and pressed the tip of her hoof into a crack in the ledge. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“You sure looked like you did,” Junebug replied glumly, and Limestone grimaced. As much as the perkiness in her marefriend’s voice had been momentarily annoying, there was something reassuring about its presence. This voice, however, did nothing but leave sharp butterflies in her stomach. “So why did you pick it as your weekend activity, then?”
Because you love doing stuff like that, stupid. That’s why you picked climbing, right? Limestone didn’t say her thoughts out loud though, because she wanted to stay angry, and speaking about how much she loved Junebug made being angry hard. The same as thinking about how much she loved Marble made her—
Ugh. She dragged her hooves across her face and gazed up at the uneven rock face, pulling her thoughts back to her marefriend. How many weekends had she spent with Junebug now? It seemed so long ago that she had visited Pinkie Pie in Ponyville that time with Maud. Despite her mood, a smile split her lips as she remembered how much of her ‘Official-Limestone-is-Visiting-Pinkie-Pie-for-the-First-Time’ party had been spent arguing with Junebug about whether rock farming or beekeeping was a more difficult trade to learn. Well, Limestone had argued—Junebug had mostly sat there smiling and giggling and sitting ever closer to her on that bench until she was close enough for their muzzles to touch—
Limestone held a hoof to her lips, remembering the delightful soft warmth of that kiss. She suddenly wanted to tell Junebug that she was sorry, that she was being a total jerk. Suddenly, she felt the overwhelming desire to hold her marefriend close and know from the way the warmth spilled out from her body that everything was going to be okay. Limestone opened her eyes, opened her mouth, but too late. Junebug was already speaking.
“—I mean, we’re heading back home tomorrow, right? I don’t want what’s left of the weekend to be ruined by a grumpy Limestone. So please tell me what’s wrong.”
“I—” Limestone felt her jaw lock in place as memories of the other day flooded back. She heard Marble’s shrill protest echo in the still mountain air, saw again that rare stubbornness in her eyes. She remembered precisely how her mouth had twisted into that grin on deciding that Marble’s fury had meant the gloves were off; that both of them could say what they really felt.
She couldn't remember what she said in that moment, though, only that she shouldn't have said it.
She shook her head, fixing her eyes on a small nest tucked into one of the crevices above. “I told you already. Nothing’s wrong.”
A rock wren appeared at the edge of the nest, its dark plumage made more pronounced by the afternoon light. For a few moments it hopped across the twigs and grass in small, jerky movements, before a smaller bird poked its head above the crest of the nest—a chick by the look of it. It stumbled to the edge, its wings opening and closing hesitantly as it made sharp, warbling pleas to its mother. Limestone watched them hop and flap about, feeling an uncomfortable twinge in her eyes. She blinked, suddenly aware that Junebug was staring at her.
“Honestly,” her marefriend snorted. “Sometimes, getting you to talk about your feelings is like getting blood from a stone.” She was quiet for a few moments before tapping Limestone’s foreleg. “Well, maybe even harder than that, come to think of it.”
Limestone looked down at the graze on her foreleg. Glancing back up at Junebug, she noticed the smile dancing on her marefriend’s lips, and as relief filled her body at the sight of it, Limestone felt her own lips respond. The weariness and frustration was pushed out and away, replaced by something that was still painful, but far more manageable.
Junebug shifted position, and Limestone stiffened instinctively as her marefriend rested her head against hers. Then she closed her eyes, willing her body to relax, to allow the soft warmth to wash over her. She embraced it for some time, watching the rock wrens through the wispy orange haze of Junebug’s mane. Eventually, the chick toppled outward from the nest, its open wings carrying it far away from the rock face. As the mother followed, Limestone felt her blood run cold.
“I argued with Marble again.” She blinked in surprise at her own sudden admission.
Junebug didn’t reply, offering only a soft noise or two as she pressed her head closer. Limestone nodded to herself. A while ago, she would have snapped her marefriend’s head off if she hadn’t replied to a confession like that, but these days she knew that it was just Junebug’s way of making sure Limestone got everything off her chest first.
Not for the first time, Limestone wished that she was able to read Junebug the same way.
“She still wants to leave.”
Junebug lifted her head slightly. “She still wants to go and study rock sculpting?”
“Yeah.” Limestone closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of her marefriend’s breath. Images of broken rock statues and ornaments overwhelmed her, and she blinked, glaring at the sun as though it was responsible for bringing them to her. “She’s being selfish, right? It’s a dumb idea. What about the rest of us at the farm? Now I’ve gotta try and hire some more hooves to deal with all the extra work we’re—I’m—gonna be left with.”
“Yeah, but you’ve done that before, right?” Junebug rubbed her muzzle against the underside of Limestone’s. Limestone made a low sound in her throat but didn’t move. She hated it when Junebug did that.
She loved it when Junebug did that.
“It’s not the same, though,” she replied. A frown twisted her features. Why on Holder’s grave couldn’t she find the right words? Her chest fluttered wildly, pushing her a million miles away from Junebug and her calm, measured breathing. “What’s wrong with her?” she snapped desperately. “Where’s this stupid idea come from all of a sudden? She hasn’t thought of the farm all. You think any hired hoof is gonna respect it the way us Pies do?”
Junebug ran a hoof through Limestone's mane, silvery strands falling across it like water. When she didn’t say anything in response Limestone felt heat on her cheeks. It was up to her to decide when she had finished talking, not Junebug.
“I’m done,” she said, pushing the hoof away. “Now it’s your turn, right?”
Junebug studied her face for a moment, those eyes twinkling. She returned her head to the crook of Limestone’s neck just when Limestone started to feel as though her soul itself was under scrutiny. “Well,” she began, pressing her lips against Limestone’s neck. “I do think you might be being a bit harsh on Marble, Limey.”
Limestone glared at the sky, torn between the pleasure of Junebug’s lips and the discomfort her words brought. “What a surprise,” she muttered. “You and every other pony I’ve spoken to.”
“Heeey, you’re not supposed to be sharing these things with just anypony,” Junebug said sternly, tapping Limestone’s muzzle. “And stop being so moody for a moment.” Her eyes drifted to the hills in the distance, beyond which lay Las Pegasus, and their colour seemed muted. Limestone couldn’t tell if that was from the clouds passing over the ledge, or some other reason.
“You know, back when I told my family I wanted to move out of the honey farm and strike out on my own, it didn’t go down too well.”
Limestone's stomach lurched. She’d put her hoof in it, hadn’t she? A wave of anger soon followed, a much easier embrace for her to turn to: Why hadn’t Junebug said anything to her before now? Couldn’t she trust her to understand?
Her marefriend continued, as though reading her thoughts. “It’s not something I really dwell on—I mean, we’re all in a much better place these days, but at the time it was pretty nasty. My brother wouldn’t speak to me and parents avoided me altogether. I think the idea of me leaving hurt them too much. In the end I felt awful enough to suggest I stay on for another year.” Junebug looked over then, her smile not quite reaching her cheeks. “It was the worst year of my life.”
Limestone closed her eyes, breathing out her doubts and worries and anger. She placed a hoof on Junebug’s foreleg and hoped her expression was encouraging.
Junebug studied her face for a second before giggling. “Oh look at you, Limey. You’re learning!” She wrapped her hooves around Limestone’s and rubbed it vigorously. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a wonderful life, so my idea of a terrible year probably isn’t all that bad, but it was difficult being somewhere where everypony was so obviously hurting. After a while, Honey Storm started speaking to me again, but we both knew by then I wasn’t going to change my mind. All my decision did was delay the inevitable.”
Angry fragments of Limestone’s argument with Marble returned to the surface. She shook her head, but they wouldn’t go away. Her whole body ached.
“I guess the point I’m trying to make,” Junebug continued. “Is that we reached a point where everypony just wanted me to go—me included—but nopony would actually say anything. And in the end, every one of us ended up resenting the situation.” She looked across at Limestone. “You tell me about your arguments with Marble, and every time it reminds me of that. Do you want her to feel the way I did about the place and ponies she loves more than anything?”
“So what?” Limestone spat, irritated by the logic of the argument. “You want me to pretend to be happy with Marble's decision for her sake?”
Junebug shook her head. “Of course I don’t, silly,” she replied, pressing herself closer. “You’re hurting, and I get that. But try not to turn it into a millstone for her either. She’s probably feeling pretty scared right now, you know.”
A frown formed on Limestone's face as she watched Junebug's throat bob in the silence.
“I wish you would tell me these things, you dummy.”
“I know,” Junebug whispered. “I should.”
Limestone shuffled her hind legs. The air on the ledge suddenly felt cooler and, despite her earth pony constitution, an uncomfortable chill settled across her body. She took Junebug’s foreleg in her hooves, but the action made everything feel so much more intense. Her head hurt, her eyes hurt.
Her heart hurt.
With a grunt, Junebug shifted position so that her head was resting across Limestone’s lap. Her green eyes looked up, reflecting the warmth of the sun.
“It’s okay to miss her, Limestone, you know?”
And just like that, Limestone’s body betrayed her. Her lungs tightened painfully, and as she tried to steady her ragged breathing she was aware her eyes were filling with tears. She tried to swallow, to draw breath, but her throat felt too tight. Her skin felt too tight, and she struggled to lift her hooves to scrub at her eyes. Memories of working alongside Marble at the farm flashed before them—memories of singing, of hard grafting in the sun and rain, of sisterhood itself and all the things that would soon end—and she tried to focus instead on the horizon. The sun had started to sink beneath the sea of clouds, draping the hills in shadow and turning the landscape cold and uncertain. Shuddering, Limestone wrapped a foreleg around Junebug’s body, drawing her close.
Her marefriend raised a hoof to Limestone’s damp cheek; after a moment, Limestone brushed it gently away.
“I’m fine,” she managed to say. “It’s just—” Like a dream, the words in her mouth formed and fell apart too quickly for her to be able to fully grasp them.
“Just what?”
Limestone gazed back up at the empty nest above and sighed. “It's not just about Marble.” She frowned at the sudden quaver in her voice. “I’m letting the farm down too.”
“Huh?” Junebug blinked, the soft smile falling from her lips. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Limestone snapped, her frustration bubbling once more into anger. She caught it sooner this time, though, and set her jaw for a few moments before looking back down. “Sorry,” she muttered, running a hoof slowly across Junebug’s stomach. “Just... You know I carry that farm on my back.”
Junebug purred and arched her body at the contact. “Something I might have remembered you saying once or twice,” she giggled. She grabbed Limestone’s hoof between her own, her expression becoming serious. “Are you trying to tell me you’re jealous of Marble? Because if you are, Limey, then you have to know that it’s really okay to take time out to think—”
“That’s not it.” Limestone was mildly irritated by the implication that she was the type of flighty pony who could abandon her own farm. “I’m not jealous. But... I guess I’m worried.” She looked down at her hooves. “The farm’s breaking apart, June.”
“It is?” Junebug pressed her lips against Limestone’s hoof. “How? You were saying just the other month that business was great—”
“Yeah, if we’re talking about bits. But I’m not, I’m—” Limestone paused. What was she talking about, anyway? A shudder rippled through her body as she remembered her parting words to Marble. “Look,” she said slowly. “It’s like this: Maud left for her rocktorate, Ma and Pa are getting too old to help out these days, and now Marble wants out too.” She looked down and met her marefriend’s gaze, which quickly became encouraging. “It’s all happening on my watch, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Well, you already mentioned getting in hired help.” Junebug cocked her head. “Won’t that solve the problem?”
“Ugh, you don’t get it, do you?” Limestone threw her forelegs in the air. “That won’t help at all. What about the farm, June? What about Holder’s Boulder and rock soup and... and flag finding during Hearth's Warming? Who’s gonna stop all these things being forgotten when other ponies arrive?”
Junebug opened her mouth, and then closed it again. “I hadn’t thought about that,” she replied quietly. “I don't think I ever did, to be honest. Huh...” She ran a hoof through her mane. “But, there’s you... right?”
“What?”
“You’ll be there, right?” Junebug’s eyes glittered. “So you’ll just have to make sure that everypony who comes to work for you gets a lesson about the farm, and how to respect it.”
Limestone frowned. “And if that doesn’t work?”
The peal of laughter that spilled from Junebug’s mouth was like summer itself. “You’re kidding right? Limestone ‘Stay-off-Holder’s-Boulder’ Pie can’t lecture on her family traditions?”
Despite the churning in her stomach, Limestone laughed. She gave her grinning marefriend a gentle tap on the muzzle.
“Plus,” Junebug continued. “I happen to think you’ve got a pretty decent taste in ponies. Just... give them a chance, okay?”
Limestone returned her gaze to the world beneath them. Maybe Junebug was right. All this dumb moping about wasn’t like her at all. Sure, she was going to miss Marble like crazy, but sitting back and complaining about things was only going to hurt the farm—her farm—in the long run. She’d be damned if she let that happen.
Taking control is what I do best.
“Exactly. So why should this time be any different?”
Limestone blinked. She hadn’t realised she had spoken her thoughts out loud. Her hoof returned to Junebug’s belly. It felt warm and comforting. It felt reassuring.
“Don’t ever change, June,” she said.
Junebug’s body quivered. “I can’t promise something like that,” she replied cheerfully. “I mean, why would I want to stay the same when everything around me is changing?” She lifted her head up to steal a kiss from Limestone. “Even you. I don’t want to be the pony that’s left behind when everything else has moved on.”
Limestone shook her head. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“But it is what you meant really, isn’t it?” Junebug planted a kiss on Limestone’s foreleg. “I mean, what would we do if I were a lunar bee and you a blooming nightshade who suddenly turned into a sunflower?” Her eyes became wide, a parody of seriousness. “We wouldn’t be able to hang out for a start, right? And I certainly couldn’t—” she lifted her head, the scratch of her voice fading to a whisper “—pollinate you anymore.”
Limestone snorted, partly because the analogy was awful, and partly because it was annoying how much it had made her blush. “You have to be so obvious all the time?”
“Heeey, obvious and cheesy analogies are what I do best.” Junebug gave her hind leg a tentative flex, nodding in satisfaction. “The point is, you don’t want me to change because it keeps everything the same, and that makes you a snug and secure Limey. I can’t do that, though, and I’m pretty sure Marble can’t either.”
She placed a hoof on Limestone’s foreleg, her smile brighter than ever. “But I can promise that I’ll change with you. How does that sound?”
Limestone gazed into her marefriend’s eyes before nodding. “Deal.”
“Okay then!” Junebug sat up, clopping her hooves together. “So, how about we start by enjoying what’s left of the weekend?”
“Sounds great.” Limestone climbed to her hooves, a smile on her face. It really did sound great. “You good for me to lower you down? It's starting to get dark.”
“It stings a bunch, but I'll be fine.” Junebug lifted herself up slowly, bracing herself against Limestone’s body as she did so. She limped forward and peered over the ledge. “Does that also mean you’re gonna finally tell me which honey I reminded you of yesterday?”
Limestone looked at the smile on her marefriend’s lips. It was a very self-satisfied smile, and therefore annoying. She cast her mind back to the honey festival. “What was the last one called again?”
Junebug scrunched her face up. “The last one? You mean Bumble’s Butt?”
“That’s the one.”
“But... But...” Junebug blinked, flustered. “You said that was the one that most lived up to its name.”
“Yeah, but you gotta admit, it fits.” Limestone checked Junebug’s rope and harness, before slipping on both saddlebags. “Strong overpowering taste that stays with you for too long?”
Junebug’s smile vanished. An outraged sound crept from her throat. Limestone held her gaze for a few seconds before grinning. It felt good.
“I’m joking,” she said, pressing her lips against her marefriend’s. “It reminded me of your cutie mark, that’s all.”
Junebug blinked, before giving her a playful shove. “You’re the absolute worst, Limey.”
As she checked her own harness, Limestone's thoughts drifted to what she was going to say to Marble when she got back. Hearing a noise, she looked up to see the mother rock wren return gracefully to its nest, its chick following a few moments after. The young bird tweeted its displeasure as its mother fussed with its feathers, before lurching to the edge and taking flight again. Limestone watched it disappear into the indistinct horizon.
“You okay, Limey?”
Limestone blinked, and looked across at Junebug. Her marefriend was wearing the expression of a pony who already knew the answer to her own question, and liked it.
“I will be,” she replied, returning her smile. “I will be.”
