Stop Number Twelveby Casketbase77ChaptersSoft PlasterInterlude: The Rest StopFool's GoldSoft Plaster“Stop number six,” called the driver over the intercom. “Downtown Ponyville.” Maud reflexively adjusted the collar on her frock as she boarded the bus. “Good morning!” The driver chirped to her. “Sure.” Maud cringed internally at her torpid reply. She tried to follow up with a ‘good morning’ of her own, but all that came out was “how far to Rockville?” The bus driver scratched his beard thoughtfully. “I’d say six stops from here. Seven, if ya count the Hollow Shades public rest area.” Say thank you. Maud urged herself. Say it. “Will this cover my fare?” Maud produced a hoofull of Bits from her belt. The driver was deflating under Maud's march of blasé responses. “That’ll cover your trip and then some,” he murmured. Let him keep the change. If you’re not going to be polite, let him keep the change. And actually tell him to, don’t just dump the Bits in the cup and walk away. Maud stared into the driver’s aged, wrinkle-ringed eyes. He stared back into her glazed ones. I’m begging you. There was no outward sign of Maud’s struggle. “Keep the change.” “Eh?” The driver's face brightened when the robotic onboarder’s words finally registered. “Oh. Oh! Yes. Very kind of you, young lady. Yes.” Maud was still lingering in the bus's entryway, an unblinking bother for the confused old stallion. Just sit down already. Maud sat. Her face and voice never obeyed her, but occasionally the rest of her did. Shoulders on the backrest of a seat far away as possible from the sprinkling of other passengers, Maud wanted to cover her face with her hooves and scream. Or laugh. Or cry. Just do something a normal pony would do when they needed to vent frustration. But instead she stared ahead. Maud didn’t know why she was always like this. She prompted her foreleg to reach into her lapel pocket. It did, and after some rummaging, produced her pet rock. Maud’s rictus frown didn’t change as she held Boulder motionless in her hoof, but just looking at him was slowly replacing her self-pity with numbing calm. Boulder was made of peridotite, the densest mineral of which a common rock his size could be comprised. Despite the considerable weight his composition gave him, Maud could handle Boulder with ease. Years of doing so had formed a smooth, dark polish on his once green exterior. Slowly, Maud brought Boulder up and held him close to her chest. You’re made of peridotite too, Maud. A featureless nopony on the outside, but weighty, complex and green on the inside. And even if other ponies can’t see you trapped inside yourself, you’re still in there. You’re still you. This was why Maud liked rocks. They were heavy enough to keep her anchored. She wanted to thank Boulder for being endlessly tolerant whenever she got discouraged like this. For giving her something to hold onto while she feebly kicked against the granite walls that lined her own mind. Maud wanted to lean down and kiss him. But her posture remained straight. No kissing occurred. In the same manner as the bus driver, Boulder would shrug off Maud’s reservedness, not knowing what she felt or how much she cared. Maud put Boulder away, back snug in her lapel pocket. She hoped she hadn’t taken up too much of his time. “Stop number seven, Uptown Ponyville.” Stop number seven. Five stops to go until Maud was back at the family rock farm. No wait, six more. There was the public rest area that the driver had mentioned. Six until her destination. Six, six... Maud hoped she could tolerate being alone with her thoughts until then. A half zebra wearing a suit and satchel boarded the bus. He gave the driver a cordial greeting with an easiness that Maud envied, then began walking down the aisle. He got closer and Maud reflexively adjusted the collar of her frock. A lifetime of being unreadable to other ponies had sharpened her ability to read them in return: the “Maud Sense,” as her family called it. And right now it told her the half zebra was going to sit and chat with her. You poor, naïve stranger, she thought. The bus chugged forward as the newcomer slid into a seat across the aisle. “Good morning!” “Sure.” The half zebra pursed his lips at Maud’s ostensibly bored tone, but continued. “I like your dress.” It endlessly distressed Maud how often her frock became a conversation starter. Partially due to the blight it hid, but more because every time someone complimented it, she failed to respond with a ‘thank you’ and instead said- “It’s a frock.” Right on cue. You’re more uniform than a layer of slate, aren't you? The half zebra surprised Maud by becoming more animated by her response, not less. “It is a frock!” he exalted. “My eye is usually much keener with these sort of things. Some tailor I am, eh?” He hitched up his coattails to present his Cutie Mark: a coat rack adorned with a hat. “Haberdash is my name. I mostly specialize in formal wear, but frocks still fall into my knowledge as up until some decades ago they were worn by fops and everyday folk alike. Anyway, I noticed you’re the only other clothed pony on the bus; are you a seamstress?” “I'm not.” Maud hated this. And she hated that she hated this. The friendly half-zebra’s prattling did indeed interest her. The passions of others always did. She wanted to hear his warm voice keep talking, keep treating her like she wasn't made of stone. But the ball was in Maud's ill-equipped court now. She wondered how long she could stave off launching into a pedantic, mineral-themed monologue. Baby steps. Tell him ‘My special talent is rocks.’ “My special talent is rocks.” I’ve been living in Ponyville while researching my geology thesis. “I’ve been living in Ponyville while researching my geology thesis.” So what brought you to Ponyville, Mr Haberdash? “The carbon samples from the Everfree cave stalagmites near here date even earlier than the oldest gastroliths in the Canterlot history museum…” Oh for the love of… shut up, you bore. Just shut up already. “...which means the fossils beneath them are pre-Crystal Empire. There’s also basalt veins, meaning extinct volcanic activity used to-“ Shut! Up! Maud’s breath left her muzzle and her mouth finally sealed. She peered pleadingly out of her lusterless eyes at the half-zebra. Haberdash was frowning. Of course he was. “Can’t say I got much of that, even with as slow and articulate as you said it.” He gave an inviting chuckle, and as hard as Maud strained to return one of her own, she remained statuesque and silent. I laughed with you on the inside, Mr Haberdash. Honest. Please don’t think less of me. “I talk about rocks.” Maud slothfully declared. She was trying to explain, to be apologetic and open about her neurosis. But the flat tone of her voice only made her sound contemptuous. “I always talk about rocks.” “Mm-hm.” Haberdash wasn’t looking her in the eye anymore. “Well... I’m studying abroad like you are, though it’s more social work than research. Little exercises where I converse with ponies about their outfits. But I, um... I understand now you dress for practical reasons, not for fashion. I was mistaken. Sorry for any inconvenience.” “Stop number eight, Baltimare suburbs.” Not as sorry as I am, Mr Haberdash. When the bus braked to a halt, the half-zebra relocated to a seat nearer to the other passengers. Maud didn’t blame him. Why sit by the nopony made of peridotite when you could sit by real ponies made of flesh and blood? The bus doors opened with a hiss. Maud shut her eyes and laid her head against the backrest. Maybe if she pretended she was asleep, the oncoming passengers would give her a wide berth. He said stop number eight. There was an audible thump as somepony stepped on. Eight of twelve. Bits clinked into bus coffer and hoofsteps pranced down the bus aisle. Four more stops and a rest area to go. Then you’re home. A nopony out of the way of all the someponies. The prancing hoofsteps passed by to the back of the bus. As they did, Maud heard muffled techno music. There was even a bass line that thumped in synch with the pace of whoever it was still trotting. Curious, Maud opened her eyes and peered behind at the new passenger. A two-toned blue mane and tail grooved happily to something funky on a massive walkmare headphones. The white unicorn to whom they were attached continued to toss her head back and forth with a rhythm so lively that Maud didn’t know how the unicorn’s sunglasses hadn’t been pitched off yet. The unicorn reached the farthest seat, reared up, and spun deftly on her pasterns just as the bus resumed forward motion. The sudden lurch almost made Maud lose her balance, but the only effect it had on the unicorn was to nudge her backwards so she could drape across the row of seats she’d claimed. There she lay like a parody of some carefree empress reclining on a couch. The only thing she lacked was a bowl of grapes. Haberdash, a few rows away, raised an eyebrow at the colorful interloper. Then after a moment he lost interest and returned to the fashion magazine he’d produced from his bag. Maud meanwhile, stayed staring. The unicorn looked familiar, though Maud had no idea when she and the diva had been in the same room before. Maud wasn’t a socialite, and the white unicorn definitely wasn’t a rock farmer. Those two spheres of life had no overlap. And yet, the ‘Maud Sense’ was tingling at the base of her ears. She definitely knew this pony. Was she looking at one of Pinkie Pie’s friends? Dumb question. Every third pony you pass on the street is one of Pinkie Pie’s friends. Maud screened her memory like an Appleloosa prospector screened dirty streams for gold. None of Maud’s graduate school classes had included a white unicorn classmate. Nor her undergrad studies courses before that. Nor her high school days before those… The bus hit a bump, causing Maud to bounce in her seat. She recovered without issue, but the reclining unicorn was whiplashed hard enough to finally dislodge her sunglasses. Smiling impishly at the inconvenience, the unicorn fetched her shades from the floor, wiping them clean with her chest fluff. As she did, Maud saw the mystery horse’s eyes had bright red irises. The unicorn wasn’t just white; she was albino. By the fossils of Seaquestria, is that Vinyl Scratch?? Maud had never spoken that name in her life, and she hadn't thought it in at least a decade. She had certainly never forgotten though: Vinyl Scratch had gone to the same middle school as her. Specifically, the massive, cross-district building that doubled as the school board's dumping ground for every sixth grader in a twenty furlong radius. That was how Maud had seen such an alien pony with any regularity. Thinking back, Maud’s sixth grade class was more crowded and diverse than any fine-grain gravel mixture Maud had yet sifted through, and Maud had sifted through a lot of fine-grain gravel mixtures. Still draped across the row of staked-out seats, Vinyl Scratch yawned and itched her stomach. It was the dyed blue hair that had thrown Maud off. Back in the day, Vinyl’s mane and tail were whiter than the body fur they accompanied. In a class of brightly colored coats, Vinyl had stuck out sorely as the only albino student. She also sat in the front row of every class to compensate for her condition's poor eyesight. This meant when preteen Maud often zoned out during lecture, she stared at the back of Vinyl’s colorless head. Now grown up, Maud was back to staring, but at Vinyl’s face now. And instead of old boredom she felt new amazement at how much the unicorn had changed. The dyed hair. The prescription sunglasses. Even that perpetual cheshire smile was different, having swapped youthful spunkiness for cool, mature confidence. The unicorn had certainly made a mare of herself. Maud still looked and dressed exactly the same as she had back then. Simply shorten her legs, and present-day Maud would match her yearbook photo from that grade. Ever-present frock included. Vinyl’s lips were moving. No doubt following the lyrics to whatever song was blaring through her headphones. Either Maud was too far away to hear, or Vinyl was mouthing the words while not actually singing. Probably the latter. Even more than Vinyl’s chalky completion and chill girl demeanor, the burning reason Maud remembered the unicorn was because nopony in school heard her speak a word. Ever. During the one year in which their lives overlapped, Maud never once saw Vinyl Scratch raise a hoof to answer a question, nor get called on by a teacher, nor chat with other students in the lunchroom. Even during morning roll call, (which was the only reason Maud even knew the unicorn’s name), when a teacher or sub called out “Vinyl Scratch,” the response was a wave or occasionally a clicking noise accompanied by a nod. And clicking didn’t count as speaking. Even back then, Maud's aphasic face and voice had weighed like a sandbag on her friendless shoulders. So she’d been endlessly fascinated by a peer who was chipper, silent, and eternally in-control. Maud wondered if Vinyl’s apparent vow of silence was still in effect. Talk to her. Find out. Maud didn’t move from her seat. She’d already flubbed her conversation with the bus driver and the one immediately afterwards with Haberdash. Why go for three? Because maybe she remembers you too. All the more reason not to approach. Maud was awkward and uncharismatic in middle school, just like she was now. If a cool cat like Vinyl Scratch had any memories of Maud, they wouldn’t be flattering ones. You’re a talc-spined coward, Maud Pie. Are you going to keep pretending your lifeless pet pebble is the only friend you need to be happy for the rest of your life? Now that was just unfair; Maud had real friends. There was Pinkie... (Family doesn’t count.) Mudbriar... (Technically, he’s your coltfriend.) Starlight... (Bonding with her was a freak accident, and you know it.) The internal struggle wasn’t visible on Maud’s face. Why? Gods above and below, why did Maud have to be stone on the outside but churning, restless lava on the inside? Why couldn’t she just be uniform hot or cold all the way through? Sixth grade had been the loneliest year of Maud’s life. As hopeful as she was that a talk with Vinyl Scratch would lead to shared laughs about old struggles to fit in, she knew it was far more likely she’d end up droning on about riverbank silt dispersion while Vinyl stared mutely back. And yet... if Maud did go over there, if Maud did succeed in holding down a conversation she initiated on her own, it would be proof of something. Proof she had grown into her reticence. Unless Vinyl Scratch was ridiculously rich and successful now, Maud had no reason to feel intimidated. A talk between the two misfit mares might even (Maud barely dared to hope) lead to a new friendship. “Stop number nine, Hollow Shades uptown district.” This time, Maud was ready for the bus to lurch. She broke off staring at Vinyl Scratch and sat back down to avoid being thrown from her seat. After the brakes eased and the doors hissed open, Maud turned around again. She was still chiseling away at a plan to approaching that pony she hadn’t seen in fifteen years. But there was a very real possibility that Vinyl would disembark from the bus right now and be gone again. This time forever. Fortunately, this fascinating fossil from Maud’s past made no move to sit up and leave its chosen row of seats. In fact, the Maud Sense asserted that Vinyl Scratch was settled in for a very long trip, with her back sunken deep into the cushions and her head bobbing slowly to whatever new song those headphones were playing right now. Probably a slow ballad, since the unicorn looked half-asleep. Maud had time to convalesce her courage. She allowed her thoughts of the unicorn to settle like sediment for now. Maybe Maud would try calming her molten mind by thinking about something else. Literally anything else. She had four stops left, after all. “Is Seaward Shoals anywhere on this route?” The questioner was a matronly-looking donkey (Jenny, Maud reminded herself. A female donkey is called a ‘jenny’) entering at the front of the bus. “Sure is ma’am,” came the driver’s reply. “Stop number eleven is the Seaward Shoals coastline. Oughta be there at the top of the hour.” A young foal, presumably the old jenny’s grandson, brayed in excitement. She hushed him and produced their fare from her purse. Seaward Shoals. Maud remembered when her own family used to take vacations there. Okay, they weren’t vacations, they were deliveries. And it was never the whole family; her mother and father would stay behind at the farm with the twins while Maud and Limestone carted a shipment of sandbags. Seaward Shoals was a port town with the same hurricane season as any other. Floodwater barriers didn’t build themselves, after all. Still, it was a vacation in spirit. Maud looked forward to it every year. Seaward Shoals’s residents were always relieved to see the shipment arrive, so much that they remained welcoming and contagiously civil even when dealing with Maud’s listlessness and Limestone’s dour aggression. Speaking of Limestone, one of the few things that reliably lifted the spirits of Maud’s loutish, work-hardened elder sister was getting paid for a job well done. Maud always made sure to be standing nearby when the mayor counted out their reward from the treasury’s coffers. Seeing Limestone’s expression of genuine calm at the money was, in Maud’s mind, the most beautiful reward of their pilgrimage. The first year of the delivery, Maud had been so privately exhausted by the trek she'd suggested resting their legs overnight. Maud expected Limestone to reject the idea via a profanity-laced tirade about how “bottomless work ethic is the only thing the Pie family has to hang our hats on” and / or “damn you to Tartarus for even thinking of wiping your hooves on our integrity.” But, to Maud’s unexpressed delight, Limestone's atypically good mood left her open to the idea. Thus began the annual tradition: four days to cart down the sandbags, one day to relax, and four days afterwards of dragging the emptied cart back home. Limestone did attach an ultimatum however. If Maud ever snitched to the folks about this annual day of slacking, Limestone would beat Maud thoroughly enough to "leave your brain as catatonic as your body." Threat of violence notwithstanding, Maud was overjoyed to hear Limestone confirm she saw a living, feeling pony under her sister's "catatonic" shell. Most ponies didn't. Maud always spent her day of vacation alone, at the reef outside of town. There she found humble entertainment digging in the sand, collecting bits of sea glass, and eventually (once she plucked up the courage to disrobe) swimming in the waves. For obvious reasons, Maud wasn’t normally a swimmer. She'd only taught herself to dog paddle because her spelunking sessions sometimes turned watery. Still, accepting the free, open embrace of the ocean was surprisingly easy. Certainly easier than braving the waters of cold, claustrophobic cave tunnels. Seaward Shoals was a curious place. One where Limestone could loosen up while Maud managed to let light in the cracks of her exterior, even if it was only once a year. Maud could even forget the fear of someone seeing her right half, since the native residents had no reason to visit the desolate reef and Limestone preferred to spend her own evening tossing back bottles at the downtown bars. Sure, for those first few years Limestone wasn’t quite at legal drinking age, but none of the Seaward Shoals tavern keepers needed to know that. Only once did somepony stumble upon Maud swimming. Mercifully, that somepony was Limestone. The sun had set. Maud was floating on her back, looking up at the moon and wondering what type of rock it was made of. That was when she heard drunken giggling coming from the shore behind her. A few seconds later, her sister’s voice slurred a question to some unseen stallion. “You’re suuure nopony will hear us out here? Cuz fair warning, I’m a huffer and puffer once I get going. Hahahahaha! Choo choo!” Maud's mind was panicking for several seconds before the rest of her cared to catch up. And even then, all she managed to do was submerge in the dark water up to her nose. Maud had reached to reflexively adjust the collar of her frock, but of course there was nothing there. Her shame was exposed, and she couldn’t cover it with her forelegs because a portion of her shame was one of her forelegs. Maud opted for curling up as small as possible. This beach was supposed to be her sanctuary. Her piece of the map where nopony was around to be put off by how she acted. How she talked. How she looked… Bobbing like pumice and wishing that was what she was, Maud witnessed Limestone flop over the top of the reef. The eldest Pie was still laughing at her own inebriated vulgarity while the moonlight caught her platinum blonde mane, turning it luminous. With a few final sputters to get the giggles completely out, Limestone raised her head and surveyed her surroundings with a boorish, absentminded grin. It was replaced by a frown when she saw her little sister’s unmistakable frock lovingly folded up and tucked between two mangrove branches. Limestone scanned the rocky beach until her eyes settled on Maud, barely poking out of the shallows. And she understood. Even heavily hazy from alcohol and lust, Limestone saw past Maud’s passionless expression, she remembered Maud’s... condition… and she understood this awful intrusion. “Uh… there’s um, a sea turtle nest or something on the beach,” she called behind her. “Maybe we stick to this side of the thingy.” Limestone tapped to indicate the reef and listened to the stallion say something Maud couldn’t hear. “Wha-? No, you can’t see it!” She disappeared back over the bluff and out of Maud’s sight. “You can’t just creep on animals like that. It’s bad enough I poked over. Just… forget it. And c'mere, you wad. I’ve been waiting all night for this.” No matter how cold it got, Maud spent the next Celestia-knows-how-many minutes with her ears plugged and submerged. But even that couldn't completely drown out her sister’s so-called “huffing and puffing.” At the time, Maud had just been scared and disgusted. In the elapsing years, the memory calcified into a lump of brittle jealousy that wasn’t dislodged until she met Mudbriar. Predictably, Maud’s teen years had been bereft of coltfriends. The huffing and puffing took forever to end. Maud waited an indeterminate length of time to give sister and stud the chance to either leave the beachfront or fall asleep under the stars. Eventually, after Maud's stoniness was broken by her teeth starting to chatter, she left the frigid water. Alone and shivering, she slogged across the beach and wrapped her frock around herself. The sisters never acknowledged that evening to each other. Not the next day, nor any day after. Limestone clearly didn't forget it though, because at the following Hearth's Warming, (to the rest of the family's befuddlement), Limestone’s gift to Maud was a full-body wetsuit. It was a long-sleeved marvel that covered everything. For once, Maud had been grateful she was a slave to her own stoicism. If she had burst into tears of joy while sitting there, under the tree in her flannel jammies, Pinkie would have snapped a picture and make it the embarrassing cover photo for that year’s Seasons Greetings card. Maud took to storing the wetsuit under the planks that lined the family wagon. That way she never forgot when it came time for her and Limestone to cart another sandbag shipment to Seaward Shoals, and she always had it for when she returned to the reef. “Stop number ten, Hollow Shades rest area.” Maud almost flinched. Almost. Instead she pulled her head off the window she’d leaned up against. Then prompted one of her hooves to massage her cramped neck. Having poor reception between her mind and body, that was an inescapable fact of life for Maud Pie. Having poor reception between her mind and her surroundings however, wasn’t normal. Daydreaming was a useless habit Maud thought she’d kicked years ago. She hadn’t spaced out like that since those dull lectures in middle school. The ones when she had the back of Vinyl Scratch’s head to stare into. Was being near an old peer causing Maud to regress? She hoped not. Maud surveyed the bus, taking stock of what she’d missed. Vinyl Scratch was still here, though now she was sitting up with her headphones around her neck. Haberdash the half zebra had returned his magazine to his satchel. The Seaward Shoals-bound jenny and grandson were already standing and moving up the aisle towards Maud. Rest area. The driver’s words finally registered to Maud. She wasn’t thirsty, nor did she need to pee, but some fresh air sounded good. Maud felt like she’d been riding the bus for ten lifetimes, even though it was barely mid-afternoon. A few minutes of kicking rocks might quiet her thoughts enough to where she could approach Vinyl Scratch and say something coherent. Emphasis on ‘might.’ Interlude: The Rest StopOffboarding began. The jenny and her grandson were almost to Maud’s row, so she had to get out of their way. Maud did her best to hop up and march off the bus. Instead she was lethargically getting to her hooves right before the grandson got to her. Even at the best of times Maud wasn’t a fast trotter, but with her left hind having fallen asleep during the ride, her hobble was agonizingly slow. Especially for the poor donkeys behind her. Maud’s expression stayed flat as she trudged, even though each grunt of impatience from the grandson hurt her more than if he’d kicked her in the ribs. An actual kick might’ve at least made her move faster. After an eternity of being an inconvenience, Maud was outside and out of the way. The rest area was a wide, squat building. Its sign out front promised public toilets, travel guides, and vending machines. The driver was leaning on the edge of one of the many surrounding picnic tables, puffing a cigarette. He took a deep drag and courteously held it in as the old jenny and her grandson passed him on their way to the bathrooms. Once the door shut behind them, he blew out again. Maud meanwhile stood alone in the grass, the only other pony who’d so far stepped out. She glanced behind her, trying to see Vinyl Scratch. No detectable movement in the vehicle. Well, since Maud had already committed to coming out here, some fossicking might ease her nerves. There was a layer of decorative gravel strewn around the main building’s perimeter. An appropriate place to start. Maud trotted unhurriedly over, then scooped up a hoofful of pebbles. “Metamorphic,” she observed softly. “Hornfels lattice, judging by the irregular grain.” “Ha! You weren’t kidding about that geology job of yours.” Startled, Maud reflexively adjusted the collar of her frock. The speaker was Haberdash, satchel bouncing as he breezed towards the rack of travel brochures. Maud stared jealously after carefree the half-zebra. Why can’t you be like that? She mused bitterly. Pivoting around, she saw Vinyl Scratch had finally disembarked. Or like that? The target of Maud’s envy was taking small, four-hooved hops along a yellow parking line in the lot. The unicorn smiled contentedly, uncaring that she looked like a foal playing hopscotch. Her headphones still rested around her neck as she pranced aimlessly along to her own beat. She was so lively. So unashamed. So very clearly not made of stone. Feeling the base of her neck growing hot, Maud emptied her hoof of gravel and planted in back on the ground. All this apprehension was so stupid. Maud was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by strangers, all of whom were heading to their own destinations, unlikely to see or even think about one another again. How many of these busy ponies would spare a condescending thought for her, the taciturn rock collector? What was Maud afraid of? A simple “Hello, didn’t we go to school together” was the easiest phrase in the world to say. Even a golem like her could handle that. Maud bent down, tore a mouthful of grass from the pavilion lawn, and chewed resolutely. She took her first somnolent steps towards the pony from her past. She was doing this. Maud swallowed and exhaled through her nose. She was one nopony approaching another, a stoic statue about to talk to a blank slate. Maud was nearly to the edge of the grass. She opened her mouth. “Hey, aren’t you DJ Pon-3?!” Maud closed her mouth. That shout had not come from her. Galloping past with enough speed to make even Maud blink in stolid surprise, the little donkey skidded to a halt in front of Vinyl Scratch. He had a huge excited grin on his muzzle. The unicorn tousled the mane of her young fan, nodding to affirm she did indeed go by that stage name. "Cloven! Leave that nice unicorn- ah, fiddlesticks." The old jenny, moving considerably slower than her grandson, came up and stood next to Maud. “I’m so outta touch with the young’uns and their pop idols,” she remarked. “You’re a well-looking yearling type though. You familiar with that one there?” Maud didn’t answer. She felt like her throat was being choked with cement as the little donkey continued gushing. “Gram and me are on ‘r way to Seaward Shoals for vacation. You ever do any shows at Seaward Shoals?” Vinyl Scratch curtly nodded, causing the foal to bray with excitement again. It was a sound that hurt Maud’s heart as well as her ears because not even Princess Twilight, the most famous pony Maud knew, could make children so bright-eyed. And Maud was already nothing compared to Twilight. “Oh dear, I apologize” the old jenny chortled. “My name is Winnie Withers. May I ask who you are?” Winnie’s smile faltered as the gray pony turned its head towards her. The pony had been placid before, but now she was moving with less life than a cockatrice victim. Winnie shivered when she saw how utterly blank its eyes were, as if no one was behind them looking out. No one at all. “Who am I...?” Even the pony’s voice seemed empty, like stale air moving through a desolate cave. “Who cares.” Stiff, robotic steps carried the gray imitation of a mare past Winnie Withers and back up the bus ramp. Frock folds followed, swishing like leaves so dead one could barely imagine they’d ever been alive in the first place. Winnie stole a quick look back at her grandson, whom DJ Pon-3 had momentarily gifted her pair of oversized headphones. “Oh,” he exalted. “Oh oh oh! I know this one. The Smile Song! Come on everypony, smile smile smile…” Winnie turned back to see the defeated gray pony seated again, slumped against a window and staring vacantly into space. The raucous singing of a still braying donkey foal mingled with the barking announcement of the driver. “Back on board, everycreature. We’re on route to stop number 10, Baltimare suburbs." “Fill my heart up with sunshine, sunshine, from these happy friends of mine…” Fool's GoldMaud Pie was not a pony. Not even one made of peridotite. She'd decided she was a fly in amber now, able to see and be seen but not touch or be touched. It was for the best, really. Nopony wanted to be around a fly. Especially not famous pop stars. With her thick imagined barrier around her, Maud could sit motionless and through stops ten and eleven. Then at the twelfth she'd be back at the farm, amid endless fields of empty colorless rocks. The only place she belonged. Maud wanted to cry, but didn't bother trying. Pillars of salt couldn't cry. Bus wheels rattled over the unpaved roads of the Equestrian countryside. Passengers were jostled, including the ones seated ahead of Maud: a pegasus father with an infant filly on his lap. The foal gurgled uncomfortably and Maud prayed to Faust the baby stayed calm. Then she quickly shook the thought from her head. Flies in amber didn't mind a baby in front of them. Nor the testy-looking griffon across the aisle. And they especially didn't mind the pale, unreachable unicorn in the back that Maud had firmly resolved not to stare at. In fact, Maud was actively staring away from Vinyl Scratch, out through the window at the trees that kept thinning and the earth got sandier. The driver and his passengers were in the empty open countryside between the major cities and Seaward Shoals. The bus hit a bump and the foal sputtered. The dad bounced his baby on his knee, but the sputters continued. Louder and building in pressure. Please no. Don't do what I can't. Another bump set the infant off. Loudly. Lungful after lungful of "wah"s pierced the every ear, earning a chorus of groans. Vinyl Scratch, despite being the farthest away, wrinkled her nose and adjusted her noise-canceling headphones. Maud, the pony nearest to the bleating sobs, miserably gripped her frock tighter around her shoulders. Her ears hurt, and the Maud Sense was overheating. It registered the father's burning embarrassment, a nearby griffon's boiling annoyed anger, and of course the baby's bottomless bawling. Even the driver was perturbed, eyes flickering between the rearview mirror and the road. Two more stops. Just two more until Maud was away from Vinyl Scratch, away from the howling baby, away from everything. She could endure until then. She was encased in amber. The father was flushed with humiliation, clumsily cradling his infant daughter. The flushness of his face reminded Maud of Pinkie, who was equally hopeless with kids. Then the father shifted, and Maud saw the filly proper for the first time. The baby's left eye was obscured by her mane. Her right eye full of freely flowing tears. Fossilized memories moved now, and they manifested Marble, the only Pie sibling more of a mess than Maud herself. It was irrational, Maud knew, to see her crybaby youngest sister in the face of a wailing pegasus foal. But her hooves had already hit the floor, which meant her shell of amber had cracked. As often happened, Maud's body moved on its own while she vexed from inside. Sit back down. He's going to say no. Maud ignored herself. The still moving bus had her swaying off balance, and it would have been so easy to plop back into her seat. But like a downhill boulder, Maud was in motion. Better her than the threatening griffon. You couldn't approach Vinyl Scratch, but you can approach him?! Maud was in the aisleway. The center of the bus, and by now the center of attention. Haberdash from up front. The angry griffon from behind. And the helpless father who hadn't been able to hear her approach. "Let me rock her." "Eh?" The father was gawking at Maud, confused by either the noise or her brazenness. Other eyes were on Maud too, including a pair of interested red ones obscured by sunglasses. Droplets formed on Maud's forehead. On her neck. Under her one armpit that was capable of producing sweat. "Let me rock her. It’s what I'm good at." The baby's wails were deafening this close up. They got even louder when Maud sat down and gingerly accepted the infant from its hesitant father. But through the squall of noise, Maud's forelimbs moved back and forth with inequine steadiness. She was stolid. Stalwart. Even as the crying continued and the bus hit yet another bump. The other passengers were losing hope. So was the father until Maud surprised even herself by hitching up her frock (the left side of course, never the right) and pulling it up to the foal's chin like a blanket. That did it. After a few minutes of the makeshift swaddling, the bus was quiet again. Cloven tried to cheer Maud's success, but Winnie Withers hastily hushed him. Maud hadn't noticed how high her heartrate had gotten. Her breathing had stayed the same, so she was consequently lightheaded. The pacified foal babbled innocently and grasped for its father. Maud sat, relieved to have her hooves emptied. "Amazing," the father drawled in a thick Manehatten accent. "Are you a mom or sumthin'?" "I'm not." Here we go again. Another conversation to botch. "Well you sure got the touch. Wherever you learned it. You'll be a good ma, when the day comes." The father’s smile was encouraging, but Maud's only response was to silently lay a hoof across her stomach. If Maud ever carried her own foal, the sire would of course have to be Mudbriar. Maud wasn't a law expert (not unless you counted knowing exactly which nature preserves forbid rock collecting), but she was pretty sure passing on her defective genes would be some form of child abuse. Foals were tiny, delicate things. Easily misshapen before they were even born. Maud was proof of that. Could her issues, mixed with Mud's issues, mixed with any other unknown additive ones possibly produce a functional foal? How far could someone small and disabled actually make it in Equestria? Several rows back, a successful, nearsighted albino rolled her shoulders. "I might be a mom someday," Maud finally affirmed. "I might." She didn't trust her errant mouth enough to say anything further. "Stop number eleven, Seaward Shoals shoreside." The driver chuckled at the name. "Try saying that one five times fast." Almost the entire bus shifted to stand up, the father included, "This'd be our spot," he remarked. "Thanks again for your help, miss." Maud shakily stood to let them by. Stony though she was, the eventful day was catching up to her. Maud thanked her lucky birthstone this was the last stop before she was home. Not much fossil fuel remained in her reserves. The griffon across the aisle clicked his beak impatiently. Maud didn't notice. She was watching Cloven point through the window at the ocean while Winnie Withers nodded. She saw the driver peering at the town clock tower, pleased to have arrived on time. She regarded Haberdash, who'd pulled off his ever present satchel to smooth some pleats on his suitcoat. Between them all trotted the unnamed father, whose cutie mark Maud observed was a sand castle. All of them were here, at their collective destination, and Maud would be riding the rest of the way alone. It was bittersweet to see them all leave, so she wanted this last moment of everyone together to imprint in her memory. If no one else carried today with them, she at least could. The griffon growled with impatience and elbowed the slow, unresponsive pony out of his way. Maud caught herself on a seat back, crouched but at least not sprawled on the dirty floor. She reasoned she deserved that and tried to call an apology to the griffon. Before she could, the griffon tromped past Haberdash, coiled a hind paw around the satchel strap, and kept pacing. "Wait, my bag- Stop! Thief!!" The griffon bolted, shoving the driver into the half-zebra to get a clear path to the open bus doors. As a mix of hawk and leopard, he was certainly fast. Maud was faster. With speed and strength normally reserved for protecting Pinkie from danger, Maud Pie tackled the purse snatcher, digging her good shoulder into his gut. For once, mindless movement became Maud's ally, since her cold righteous fury couldn't vent via yelling or snarling like a normal pony's could. Instead it echoed through her blood, her muscles, and her forelimbs now stubbornly latticed in a deathgrip around the griffon's midsection. Alarmed donkey brays and horse whinnies rang in Maud's ears while she and her quarry tumbled down the steps to the sand. The griffon loosed a stream of profanity and followed up with a claw swipe. Fabric was shredded and Maud reflexively gripped the collar of her frock. When she did, the griffon squirmed out from under her, wing beats dusting her face with salty particles as he escaped into the sky. On her belly in the beach grass, Maud heaved. Then she rolled onto her back, Haberdash's satchel hugged to her chest. "That was freaking cool!" Cloven was rushing down the stairs to skid to a halt nearby."Did he getcha? How bad did you get him back? Wowie, your dress got ripped good!" That last comment made Maud sit up in slothful panic, holding her bisected frock together like a gaping wound. By now the other passengers were gathering all around. They saw, didn't they? How could anyone miss it? Faces pressed in from all sides. Looking at her. Scrutinizing her. Given a choice, Maud would have dissolved into the sand. But there was no choice. None other than the one that had left her sprawled here. Maud sat where she was, satchel in her lap, steeling herself for jeers. She got praise instead. "My bag!" Haberdash slung the reclaimed prize over his shoulder and clapped his hero warmly on her back. "You're a mare of action if not words, miss Maud." "That's a mighty claw slash," the pegasus father noted. "You're not hurt, are you?" Slowly realizing her life wasn't ruined, Maud dared to check her damage. The talon had hooked her lapel pocket and torn a ragged path downward. Her clothes were more like an open robe now, held in overlapping place by Maud's foreleg gripping an opposite shoulder. Her body didn't have a single scrape, as there was only one place where claw had hit something other than fabric: nested in the threads of Maud's former breast pocket was her pet rock. And on his outward-facing edge, he had a deep gouge exposing his green core. Right where the talon had been deflected. Good boy, Boulder. Very good boy. "That ruffian," Winnie cursed. Her eyes were on the empty sky. "Who steals from travelers on vacation?!" The bus driver was rolling an unlit cigarette in his hoof. "You really can't know a passenger just by lookin' at em," he asserted. "This... erm, this town has a law office. If it's alright with everyone, I'll take minute to report what just happened." Haberdash extended a hoof to help Maud up. When she didn't take it, he shrugged politely and followed the driver to corroborate the story. Cloven wanted to ask Maud more questions, but Winnie shooed him towards the beach. The pegasus father nodded goodbye as he trotted with his baby towards the rental condos. As everyone dispersed around her, Maud inhaled through her nose, then out through her mouth. She remained where she sat, limp but not relaxed. Her eyes were on Vinyl Scratch, still loitering by the bus doors. The unicorn was looking at Maud. Directly at Maud. Breeze blew, waves crested, and beachgrass rustled. There were no other sounds except Vinyl Scratch's approaching hoofsteps. Maud's mind raced, too fast to land on any coherent thoughts. She felt cold like clay, hot like igneous, coarse like granite. Vinyl Scratch pulled off her headphones. Don't crumble. Be peridotite. Vinyl Scratch spoke. "I know you, d-d-don't I?” The unicorn's voice was raspy, like tectonic plates grinding together. She clearly didn't use it often. "Am I r-r-r-right? You're Maud P-Pie?" A silent, nodded response made the DJ grin. "I heard the s-s-striped one in the suit say your name. But even b-b-before that I recognized your dress." "It’s a frock." "It used t-t-to be, anyway." Vinyl Scratch laughed at her own quip, though her atrophied chuckles sounded more like wheezing. "S-s-sorry. Bad joke. I'm not n-normally this nervous." "Nervous." "S-s-sure. I know we n-n-never talked back in school, and most of that was m-m-my fault because I was still shy about my st-stut... my st-sutt-st-" Vinyl Scratch's wheezing chuckles came back. It was cosmically absurd, not being able to pronounce her own speech impediment. "Whatevs. You feel my f-f-flow. Or maybe you don't, actually. The reason I r-r-remember you from back then be-c-c-cause I was always j-j-jealous." Maud blinked. Then blinked again. "Jealous." "Of c-course. I was jealous of everyone who c-c-could talk calm and clear. And y-y-you talked the calmest." Maud's grip on her collar loosened. Just a little bit. "I'm not as calm as I look, Vinyl Scratch." "If you s-s-say so. But nopony else did anything when that b-b-baby cried. Or when that griffon ran. Es-p-pecially not me. Whatever y-you're made of, its tough stuff." Maud's grip re-tightened. "It is. Its very tough." Sensing she'd stepped off beat, Vinyl Scratch rubbed her neck. Headphones jostled at the motion, and from where Maud was kneeling, it almost looked like the unicorn had a frock collar of her own. "It's not f-f-fun, is it? Solo sessions alone with your th-thoughts. Those happen to me when I'm traveling on the road b-b-between gigs. But music can fill that dead air. Do you like m-music, Maud?" "Sure." "Y-yeah?" Vinyl Scratch was perking up again. "I bet your f-favorite genre is rock." "I like metal. It's harder and heavier than rock." Now it was the DJ's turn to stare blankly. "That was a pun." "Oh! I g-g-get it now. Good one!" Maud nodded. Although she couldn't laugh at her own joke, Vinyl Scratch produced enough raspy guffaws for the two of them. "You should do st-st-stand up comedy. I've played enough venues to know deadpan d-d-delivery is a lost art." Maud had tried doing stand up. Once. The only compliments she'd gotten were from Pinkie Pie, and praise from Pinkie was hard to weigh. But encouragement from a career performer like Vinyl Scratch... "Aha, I th-th-think that was the preamble to a smile I just saw. You done p-p-pouting in the d-dirt down there?" Vinyl Scratch's hoof reached down. Maud accepted it, and was pulled to standing upright. Between the two of them, Maud was taller. She hadn't noticed before. "No offense Maud, but y-your outfit looks as b-bad as my voice sounds." Maud reflexively reached for her collar, then stopped. Vinyl Scratch was speaking to her. Taking a plunge by revealing her shameful stammer. It was a show of trust, especially since it was shared without having to be requested. To Tartarus with it. One secret deserves another. Tit for tat, as Pinkie would say. Maudelina Daisy Pie gripped her shredded frock with both hooves and pulled it off over her head. She gave the tattered linen a shake, pretending to just be smoothing sand out of it. As she did, Maud turned to display the sprawling strawberry birthmark that marred half her body. Stretching from elbow to gaskin, Maud’s secret was a hairless expanse of mottled pink hide. Her defect’s lurid, pockmarked welts scalded her velvet grey coat, like craggy islands jutting through a placid sea. It was pale from lack of sun, and though the ridges looked angry and inflamed, just like all of Maud its looks were deceiving. Mudbriar, the only pony who’d held Maud close and unclothed since she was a baby, could attest that Maud was every bit as soft and easy to hug as any unblemished pony. Overcooked in the womb the birthmark may have been, skin was just skin. And Maud was just Maud. She wasn't half stone, half peridotite, half anything. She was pure pony, warts and all. Flourish complete, Maud shivered in the seabreeze. Vinyl still hadn't said anything, but she did give a slow nod to confirm she recognized and appreciated Maud baring herself like this. “It was good to finally hear from you, Vinyl Scratch.” “Nice to… nice to ss-s-see you t-t-tt-too.” A polite cough alerted both mares that the bus driver was back. Vinyl Scratch clamped her mouth closed, redfaced at the possibility he'd heard her. Maud meanwhile draped her torn former frock over her good shoulder. She didn't express any shame. Whether she felt any, Maud hadn't decided yet. "Sorry if I'm interruptin' anything, but the report's been filed and we can get back on the road." He brandished his keys. Say thank you. Maud urged herself. Say it. "Sure." Oh well. Roam wasn't built in a day. "All aboard who's coming aboard," the driver announced. "Though, I think its just you, ma'am. Stop number twelve? The farm near Rockville?" Vinyl Scratch pawed mutely the sand. Maud spoke up so her new friend wouldn't have to. "Sure. Only me." The driver nodded, taking one last drag to finish his cigarette. Then he trotted to his place behind the steering wheel. "You travel all over," Maud said to Vinyl Scratch. "I don't. But I’ll be back in Seaward Shoals this autumn. For one day." Vinyl Scratch believed she could pick up what Maud was putting down. “It… it's a date. I can def-definitely fit a day at the beach into my schedule. I already own a sunblocking w-w-wetsuit to let me s-swim without burning.” Maud finally smiled. "I like to swim too." The diesel engine started up and Vinyl nodded goodbye. She had no parting words, but that was alright. None were needed between quiet friends. Maud sat peaceably on the empty bus, shredded former frock in her lap. She'd be home soon. Able to inform Limestone she'd won a fight. Able to hug Marble. Able to shake off all the dust and plaster from her soul, now that she was no longer a pillar of salt. This frock would still need to be mended though. If not for herself, then for those who knew her for it. Boulder especially. Maud held her pet rock to her bare chest and breathed deep. He had a scratch now, but so did Maud. A scraping scratch and a Vinyl Scratch. She was looking forward to autumn. Author's Note Source of the above gif: https://www.deviantart.com/yooyfull/art/What-a-boring-pony-441258324
Soft Plaster“Stop number six,” called the driver over the intercom. “Downtown Ponyville.” Maud reflexively adjusted the collar on her frock as she boarded the bus. “Good morning!” The driver chirped to her. “Sure.” Maud cringed internally at her torpid reply. She tried to follow up with a ‘good morning’ of her own, but all that came out was “how far to Rockville?” The bus driver scratched his beard thoughtfully. “I’d say six stops from here. Seven, if ya count the Hollow Shades public rest area.” Say thank you. Maud urged herself. Say it. “Will this cover my fare?” Maud produced a hoofull of Bits from her belt. The driver was deflating under Maud's march of blasé responses. “That’ll cover your trip and then some,” he murmured. Let him keep the change. If you’re not going to be polite, let him keep the change. And actually tell him to, don’t just dump the Bits in the cup and walk away. Maud stared into the driver’s aged, wrinkle-ringed eyes. He stared back into her glazed ones. I’m begging you. There was no outward sign of Maud’s struggle. “Keep the change.” “Eh?” The driver's face brightened when the robotic onboarder’s words finally registered. “Oh. Oh! Yes. Very kind of you, young lady. Yes.” Maud was still lingering in the bus's entryway, an unblinking bother for the confused old stallion. Just sit down already. Maud sat. Her face and voice never obeyed her, but occasionally the rest of her did. Shoulders on the backrest of a seat far away as possible from the sprinkling of other passengers, Maud wanted to cover her face with her hooves and scream. Or laugh. Or cry. Just do something a normal pony would do when they needed to vent frustration. But instead she stared ahead. Maud didn’t know why she was always like this. She prompted her foreleg to reach into her lapel pocket. It did, and after some rummaging, produced her pet rock. Maud’s rictus frown didn’t change as she held Boulder motionless in her hoof, but just looking at him was slowly replacing her self-pity with numbing calm. Boulder was made of peridotite, the densest mineral of which a common rock his size could be comprised. Despite the considerable weight his composition gave him, Maud could handle Boulder with ease. Years of doing so had formed a smooth, dark polish on his once green exterior. Slowly, Maud brought Boulder up and held him close to her chest. You’re made of peridotite too, Maud. A featureless nopony on the outside, but weighty, complex and green on the inside. And even if other ponies can’t see you trapped inside yourself, you’re still in there. You’re still you. This was why Maud liked rocks. They were heavy enough to keep her anchored. She wanted to thank Boulder for being endlessly tolerant whenever she got discouraged like this. For giving her something to hold onto while she feebly kicked against the granite walls that lined her own mind. Maud wanted to lean down and kiss him. But her posture remained straight. No kissing occurred. In the same manner as the bus driver, Boulder would shrug off Maud’s reservedness, not knowing what she felt or how much she cared. Maud put Boulder away, back snug in her lapel pocket. She hoped she hadn’t taken up too much of his time. “Stop number seven, Uptown Ponyville.” Stop number seven. Five stops to go until Maud was back at the family rock farm. No wait, six more. There was the public rest area that the driver had mentioned. Six until her destination. Six, six... Maud hoped she could tolerate being alone with her thoughts until then. A half zebra wearing a suit and satchel boarded the bus. He gave the driver a cordial greeting with an easiness that Maud envied, then began walking down the aisle. He got closer and Maud reflexively adjusted the collar of her frock. A lifetime of being unreadable to other ponies had sharpened her ability to read them in return: the “Maud Sense,” as her family called it. And right now it told her the half zebra was going to sit and chat with her. You poor, naïve stranger, she thought. The bus chugged forward as the newcomer slid into a seat across the aisle. “Good morning!” “Sure.” The half zebra pursed his lips at Maud’s ostensibly bored tone, but continued. “I like your dress.” It endlessly distressed Maud how often her frock became a conversation starter. Partially due to the blight it hid, but more because every time someone complimented it, she failed to respond with a ‘thank you’ and instead said- “It’s a frock.” Right on cue. You’re more uniform than a layer of slate, aren't you? The half zebra surprised Maud by becoming more animated by her response, not less. “It is a frock!” he exalted. “My eye is usually much keener with these sort of things. Some tailor I am, eh?” He hitched up his coattails to present his Cutie Mark: a coat rack adorned with a hat. “Haberdash is my name. I mostly specialize in formal wear, but frocks still fall into my knowledge as up until some decades ago they were worn by fops and everyday folk alike. Anyway, I noticed you’re the only other clothed pony on the bus; are you a seamstress?” “I'm not.” Maud hated this. And she hated that she hated this. The friendly half-zebra’s prattling did indeed interest her. The passions of others always did. She wanted to hear his warm voice keep talking, keep treating her like she wasn't made of stone. But the ball was in Maud's ill-equipped court now. She wondered how long she could stave off launching into a pedantic, mineral-themed monologue. Baby steps. Tell him ‘My special talent is rocks.’ “My special talent is rocks.” I’ve been living in Ponyville while researching my geology thesis. “I’ve been living in Ponyville while researching my geology thesis.” So what brought you to Ponyville, Mr Haberdash? “The carbon samples from the Everfree cave stalagmites near here date even earlier than the oldest gastroliths in the Canterlot history museum…” Oh for the love of… shut up, you bore. Just shut up already. “...which means the fossils beneath them are pre-Crystal Empire. There’s also basalt veins, meaning extinct volcanic activity used to-“ Shut! Up! Maud’s breath left her muzzle and her mouth finally sealed. She peered pleadingly out of her lusterless eyes at the half-zebra. Haberdash was frowning. Of course he was. “Can’t say I got much of that, even with as slow and articulate as you said it.” He gave an inviting chuckle, and as hard as Maud strained to return one of her own, she remained statuesque and silent. I laughed with you on the inside, Mr Haberdash. Honest. Please don’t think less of me. “I talk about rocks.” Maud slothfully declared. She was trying to explain, to be apologetic and open about her neurosis. But the flat tone of her voice only made her sound contemptuous. “I always talk about rocks.” “Mm-hm.” Haberdash wasn’t looking her in the eye anymore. “Well... I’m studying abroad like you are, though it’s more social work than research. Little exercises where I converse with ponies about their outfits. But I, um... I understand now you dress for practical reasons, not for fashion. I was mistaken. Sorry for any inconvenience.” “Stop number eight, Baltimare suburbs.” Not as sorry as I am, Mr Haberdash. When the bus braked to a halt, the half-zebra relocated to a seat nearer to the other passengers. Maud didn’t blame him. Why sit by the nopony made of peridotite when you could sit by real ponies made of flesh and blood? The bus doors opened with a hiss. Maud shut her eyes and laid her head against the backrest. Maybe if she pretended she was asleep, the oncoming passengers would give her a wide berth. He said stop number eight. There was an audible thump as somepony stepped on. Eight of twelve. Bits clinked into bus coffer and hoofsteps pranced down the bus aisle. Four more stops and a rest area to go. Then you’re home. A nopony out of the way of all the someponies. The prancing hoofsteps passed by to the back of the bus. As they did, Maud heard muffled techno music. There was even a bass line that thumped in synch with the pace of whoever it was still trotting. Curious, Maud opened her eyes and peered behind at the new passenger. A two-toned blue mane and tail grooved happily to something funky on a massive walkmare headphones. The white unicorn to whom they were attached continued to toss her head back and forth with a rhythm so lively that Maud didn’t know how the unicorn’s sunglasses hadn’t been pitched off yet. The unicorn reached the farthest seat, reared up, and spun deftly on her pasterns just as the bus resumed forward motion. The sudden lurch almost made Maud lose her balance, but the only effect it had on the unicorn was to nudge her backwards so she could drape across the row of seats she’d claimed. There she lay like a parody of some carefree empress reclining on a couch. The only thing she lacked was a bowl of grapes. Haberdash, a few rows away, raised an eyebrow at the colorful interloper. Then after a moment he lost interest and returned to the fashion magazine he’d produced from his bag. Maud meanwhile, stayed staring. The unicorn looked familiar, though Maud had no idea when she and the diva had been in the same room before. Maud wasn’t a socialite, and the white unicorn definitely wasn’t a rock farmer. Those two spheres of life had no overlap. And yet, the ‘Maud Sense’ was tingling at the base of her ears. She definitely knew this pony. Was she looking at one of Pinkie Pie’s friends? Dumb question. Every third pony you pass on the street is one of Pinkie Pie’s friends. Maud screened her memory like an Appleloosa prospector screened dirty streams for gold. None of Maud’s graduate school classes had included a white unicorn classmate. Nor her undergrad studies courses before that. Nor her high school days before those… The bus hit a bump, causing Maud to bounce in her seat. She recovered without issue, but the reclining unicorn was whiplashed hard enough to finally dislodge her sunglasses. Smiling impishly at the inconvenience, the unicorn fetched her shades from the floor, wiping them clean with her chest fluff. As she did, Maud saw the mystery horse’s eyes had bright red irises. The unicorn wasn’t just white; she was albino. By the fossils of Seaquestria, is that Vinyl Scratch?? Maud had never spoken that name in her life, and she hadn't thought it in at least a decade. She had certainly never forgotten though: Vinyl Scratch had gone to the same middle school as her. Specifically, the massive, cross-district building that doubled as the school board's dumping ground for every sixth grader in a twenty furlong radius. That was how Maud had seen such an alien pony with any regularity. Thinking back, Maud’s sixth grade class was more crowded and diverse than any fine-grain gravel mixture Maud had yet sifted through, and Maud had sifted through a lot of fine-grain gravel mixtures. Still draped across the row of staked-out seats, Vinyl Scratch yawned and itched her stomach. It was the dyed blue hair that had thrown Maud off. Back in the day, Vinyl’s mane and tail were whiter than the body fur they accompanied. In a class of brightly colored coats, Vinyl had stuck out sorely as the only albino student. She also sat in the front row of every class to compensate for her condition's poor eyesight. This meant when preteen Maud often zoned out during lecture, she stared at the back of Vinyl’s colorless head. Now grown up, Maud was back to staring, but at Vinyl’s face now. And instead of old boredom she felt new amazement at how much the unicorn had changed. The dyed hair. The prescription sunglasses. Even that perpetual cheshire smile was different, having swapped youthful spunkiness for cool, mature confidence. The unicorn had certainly made a mare of herself. Maud still looked and dressed exactly the same as she had back then. Simply shorten her legs, and present-day Maud would match her yearbook photo from that grade. Ever-present frock included. Vinyl’s lips were moving. No doubt following the lyrics to whatever song was blaring through her headphones. Either Maud was too far away to hear, or Vinyl was mouthing the words while not actually singing. Probably the latter. Even more than Vinyl’s chalky completion and chill girl demeanor, the burning reason Maud remembered the unicorn was because nopony in school heard her speak a word. Ever. During the one year in which their lives overlapped, Maud never once saw Vinyl Scratch raise a hoof to answer a question, nor get called on by a teacher, nor chat with other students in the lunchroom. Even during morning roll call, (which was the only reason Maud even knew the unicorn’s name), when a teacher or sub called out “Vinyl Scratch,” the response was a wave or occasionally a clicking noise accompanied by a nod. And clicking didn’t count as speaking. Even back then, Maud's aphasic face and voice had weighed like a sandbag on her friendless shoulders. So she’d been endlessly fascinated by a peer who was chipper, silent, and eternally in-control. Maud wondered if Vinyl’s apparent vow of silence was still in effect. Talk to her. Find out. Maud didn’t move from her seat. She’d already flubbed her conversation with the bus driver and the one immediately afterwards with Haberdash. Why go for three? Because maybe she remembers you too. All the more reason not to approach. Maud was awkward and uncharismatic in middle school, just like she was now. If a cool cat like Vinyl Scratch had any memories of Maud, they wouldn’t be flattering ones. You’re a talc-spined coward, Maud Pie. Are you going to keep pretending your lifeless pet pebble is the only friend you need to be happy for the rest of your life? Now that was just unfair; Maud had real friends. There was Pinkie... (Family doesn’t count.) Mudbriar... (Technically, he’s your coltfriend.) Starlight... (Bonding with her was a freak accident, and you know it.) The internal struggle wasn’t visible on Maud’s face. Why? Gods above and below, why did Maud have to be stone on the outside but churning, restless lava on the inside? Why couldn’t she just be uniform hot or cold all the way through? Sixth grade had been the loneliest year of Maud’s life. As hopeful as she was that a talk with Vinyl Scratch would lead to shared laughs about old struggles to fit in, she knew it was far more likely she’d end up droning on about riverbank silt dispersion while Vinyl stared mutely back. And yet... if Maud did go over there, if Maud did succeed in holding down a conversation she initiated on her own, it would be proof of something. Proof she had grown into her reticence. Unless Vinyl Scratch was ridiculously rich and successful now, Maud had no reason to feel intimidated. A talk between the two misfit mares might even (Maud barely dared to hope) lead to a new friendship. “Stop number nine, Hollow Shades uptown district.” This time, Maud was ready for the bus to lurch. She broke off staring at Vinyl Scratch and sat back down to avoid being thrown from her seat. After the brakes eased and the doors hissed open, Maud turned around again. She was still chiseling away at a plan to approaching that pony she hadn’t seen in fifteen years. But there was a very real possibility that Vinyl would disembark from the bus right now and be gone again. This time forever. Fortunately, this fascinating fossil from Maud’s past made no move to sit up and leave its chosen row of seats. In fact, the Maud Sense asserted that Vinyl Scratch was settled in for a very long trip, with her back sunken deep into the cushions and her head bobbing slowly to whatever new song those headphones were playing right now. Probably a slow ballad, since the unicorn looked half-asleep. Maud had time to convalesce her courage. She allowed her thoughts of the unicorn to settle like sediment for now. Maybe Maud would try calming her molten mind by thinking about something else. Literally anything else. She had four stops left, after all. “Is Seaward Shoals anywhere on this route?” The questioner was a matronly-looking donkey (Jenny, Maud reminded herself. A female donkey is called a ‘jenny’) entering at the front of the bus. “Sure is ma’am,” came the driver’s reply. “Stop number eleven is the Seaward Shoals coastline. Oughta be there at the top of the hour.” A young foal, presumably the old jenny’s grandson, brayed in excitement. She hushed him and produced their fare from her purse. Seaward Shoals. Maud remembered when her own family used to take vacations there. Okay, they weren’t vacations, they were deliveries. And it was never the whole family; her mother and father would stay behind at the farm with the twins while Maud and Limestone carted a shipment of sandbags. Seaward Shoals was a port town with the same hurricane season as any other. Floodwater barriers didn’t build themselves, after all. Still, it was a vacation in spirit. Maud looked forward to it every year. Seaward Shoals’s residents were always relieved to see the shipment arrive, so much that they remained welcoming and contagiously civil even when dealing with Maud’s listlessness and Limestone’s dour aggression. Speaking of Limestone, one of the few things that reliably lifted the spirits of Maud’s loutish, work-hardened elder sister was getting paid for a job well done. Maud always made sure to be standing nearby when the mayor counted out their reward from the treasury’s coffers. Seeing Limestone’s expression of genuine calm at the money was, in Maud’s mind, the most beautiful reward of their pilgrimage. The first year of the delivery, Maud had been so privately exhausted by the trek she'd suggested resting their legs overnight. Maud expected Limestone to reject the idea via a profanity-laced tirade about how “bottomless work ethic is the only thing the Pie family has to hang our hats on” and / or “damn you to Tartarus for even thinking of wiping your hooves on our integrity.” But, to Maud’s unexpressed delight, Limestone's atypically good mood left her open to the idea. Thus began the annual tradition: four days to cart down the sandbags, one day to relax, and four days afterwards of dragging the emptied cart back home. Limestone did attach an ultimatum however. If Maud ever snitched to the folks about this annual day of slacking, Limestone would beat Maud thoroughly enough to "leave your brain as catatonic as your body." Threat of violence notwithstanding, Maud was overjoyed to hear Limestone confirm she saw a living, feeling pony under her sister's "catatonic" shell. Most ponies didn't. Maud always spent her day of vacation alone, at the reef outside of town. There she found humble entertainment digging in the sand, collecting bits of sea glass, and eventually (once she plucked up the courage to disrobe) swimming in the waves. For obvious reasons, Maud wasn’t normally a swimmer. She'd only taught herself to dog paddle because her spelunking sessions sometimes turned watery. Still, accepting the free, open embrace of the ocean was surprisingly easy. Certainly easier than braving the waters of cold, claustrophobic cave tunnels. Seaward Shoals was a curious place. One where Limestone could loosen up while Maud managed to let light in the cracks of her exterior, even if it was only once a year. Maud could even forget the fear of someone seeing her right half, since the native residents had no reason to visit the desolate reef and Limestone preferred to spend her own evening tossing back bottles at the downtown bars. Sure, for those first few years Limestone wasn’t quite at legal drinking age, but none of the Seaward Shoals tavern keepers needed to know that. Only once did somepony stumble upon Maud swimming. Mercifully, that somepony was Limestone. The sun had set. Maud was floating on her back, looking up at the moon and wondering what type of rock it was made of. That was when she heard drunken giggling coming from the shore behind her. A few seconds later, her sister’s voice slurred a question to some unseen stallion. “You’re suuure nopony will hear us out here? Cuz fair warning, I’m a huffer and puffer once I get going. Hahahahaha! Choo choo!” Maud's mind was panicking for several seconds before the rest of her cared to catch up. And even then, all she managed to do was submerge in the dark water up to her nose. Maud had reached to reflexively adjust the collar of her frock, but of course there was nothing there. Her shame was exposed, and she couldn’t cover it with her forelegs because a portion of her shame was one of her forelegs. Maud opted for curling up as small as possible. This beach was supposed to be her sanctuary. Her piece of the map where nopony was around to be put off by how she acted. How she talked. How she looked… Bobbing like pumice and wishing that was what she was, Maud witnessed Limestone flop over the top of the reef. The eldest Pie was still laughing at her own inebriated vulgarity while the moonlight caught her platinum blonde mane, turning it luminous. With a few final sputters to get the giggles completely out, Limestone raised her head and surveyed her surroundings with a boorish, absentminded grin. It was replaced by a frown when she saw her little sister’s unmistakable frock lovingly folded up and tucked between two mangrove branches. Limestone scanned the rocky beach until her eyes settled on Maud, barely poking out of the shallows. And she understood. Even heavily hazy from alcohol and lust, Limestone saw past Maud’s passionless expression, she remembered Maud’s... condition… and she understood this awful intrusion. “Uh… there’s um, a sea turtle nest or something on the beach,” she called behind her. “Maybe we stick to this side of the thingy.” Limestone tapped to indicate the reef and listened to the stallion say something Maud couldn’t hear. “Wha-? No, you can’t see it!” She disappeared back over the bluff and out of Maud’s sight. “You can’t just creep on animals like that. It’s bad enough I poked over. Just… forget it. And c'mere, you wad. I’ve been waiting all night for this.” No matter how cold it got, Maud spent the next Celestia-knows-how-many minutes with her ears plugged and submerged. But even that couldn't completely drown out her sister’s so-called “huffing and puffing.” At the time, Maud had just been scared and disgusted. In the elapsing years, the memory calcified into a lump of brittle jealousy that wasn’t dislodged until she met Mudbriar. Predictably, Maud’s teen years had been bereft of coltfriends. The huffing and puffing took forever to end. Maud waited an indeterminate length of time to give sister and stud the chance to either leave the beachfront or fall asleep under the stars. Eventually, after Maud's stoniness was broken by her teeth starting to chatter, she left the frigid water. Alone and shivering, she slogged across the beach and wrapped her frock around herself. The sisters never acknowledged that evening to each other. Not the next day, nor any day after. Limestone clearly didn't forget it though, because at the following Hearth's Warming, (to the rest of the family's befuddlement), Limestone’s gift to Maud was a full-body wetsuit. It was a long-sleeved marvel that covered everything. For once, Maud had been grateful she was a slave to her own stoicism. If she had burst into tears of joy while sitting there, under the tree in her flannel jammies, Pinkie would have snapped a picture and make it the embarrassing cover photo for that year’s Seasons Greetings card. Maud took to storing the wetsuit under the planks that lined the family wagon. That way she never forgot when it came time for her and Limestone to cart another sandbag shipment to Seaward Shoals, and she always had it for when she returned to the reef. “Stop number ten, Hollow Shades rest area.” Maud almost flinched. Almost. Instead she pulled her head off the window she’d leaned up against. Then prompted one of her hooves to massage her cramped neck. Having poor reception between her mind and body, that was an inescapable fact of life for Maud Pie. Having poor reception between her mind and her surroundings however, wasn’t normal. Daydreaming was a useless habit Maud thought she’d kicked years ago. She hadn’t spaced out like that since those dull lectures in middle school. The ones when she had the back of Vinyl Scratch’s head to stare into. Was being near an old peer causing Maud to regress? She hoped not. Maud surveyed the bus, taking stock of what she’d missed. Vinyl Scratch was still here, though now she was sitting up with her headphones around her neck. Haberdash the half zebra had returned his magazine to his satchel. The Seaward Shoals-bound jenny and grandson were already standing and moving up the aisle towards Maud. Rest area. The driver’s words finally registered to Maud. She wasn’t thirsty, nor did she need to pee, but some fresh air sounded good. Maud felt like she’d been riding the bus for ten lifetimes, even though it was barely mid-afternoon. A few minutes of kicking rocks might quiet her thoughts enough to where she could approach Vinyl Scratch and say something coherent. Emphasis on ‘might.’
Interlude: The Rest StopOffboarding began. The jenny and her grandson were almost to Maud’s row, so she had to get out of their way. Maud did her best to hop up and march off the bus. Instead she was lethargically getting to her hooves right before the grandson got to her. Even at the best of times Maud wasn’t a fast trotter, but with her left hind having fallen asleep during the ride, her hobble was agonizingly slow. Especially for the poor donkeys behind her. Maud’s expression stayed flat as she trudged, even though each grunt of impatience from the grandson hurt her more than if he’d kicked her in the ribs. An actual kick might’ve at least made her move faster. After an eternity of being an inconvenience, Maud was outside and out of the way. The rest area was a wide, squat building. Its sign out front promised public toilets, travel guides, and vending machines. The driver was leaning on the edge of one of the many surrounding picnic tables, puffing a cigarette. He took a deep drag and courteously held it in as the old jenny and her grandson passed him on their way to the bathrooms. Once the door shut behind them, he blew out again. Maud meanwhile stood alone in the grass, the only other pony who’d so far stepped out. She glanced behind her, trying to see Vinyl Scratch. No detectable movement in the vehicle. Well, since Maud had already committed to coming out here, some fossicking might ease her nerves. There was a layer of decorative gravel strewn around the main building’s perimeter. An appropriate place to start. Maud trotted unhurriedly over, then scooped up a hoofful of pebbles. “Metamorphic,” she observed softly. “Hornfels lattice, judging by the irregular grain.” “Ha! You weren’t kidding about that geology job of yours.” Startled, Maud reflexively adjusted the collar of her frock. The speaker was Haberdash, satchel bouncing as he breezed towards the rack of travel brochures. Maud stared jealously after carefree the half-zebra. Why can’t you be like that? She mused bitterly. Pivoting around, she saw Vinyl Scratch had finally disembarked. Or like that? The target of Maud’s envy was taking small, four-hooved hops along a yellow parking line in the lot. The unicorn smiled contentedly, uncaring that she looked like a foal playing hopscotch. Her headphones still rested around her neck as she pranced aimlessly along to her own beat. She was so lively. So unashamed. So very clearly not made of stone. Feeling the base of her neck growing hot, Maud emptied her hoof of gravel and planted in back on the ground. All this apprehension was so stupid. Maud was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by strangers, all of whom were heading to their own destinations, unlikely to see or even think about one another again. How many of these busy ponies would spare a condescending thought for her, the taciturn rock collector? What was Maud afraid of? A simple “Hello, didn’t we go to school together” was the easiest phrase in the world to say. Even a golem like her could handle that. Maud bent down, tore a mouthful of grass from the pavilion lawn, and chewed resolutely. She took her first somnolent steps towards the pony from her past. She was doing this. Maud swallowed and exhaled through her nose. She was one nopony approaching another, a stoic statue about to talk to a blank slate. Maud was nearly to the edge of the grass. She opened her mouth. “Hey, aren’t you DJ Pon-3?!” Maud closed her mouth. That shout had not come from her. Galloping past with enough speed to make even Maud blink in stolid surprise, the little donkey skidded to a halt in front of Vinyl Scratch. He had a huge excited grin on his muzzle. The unicorn tousled the mane of her young fan, nodding to affirm she did indeed go by that stage name. "Cloven! Leave that nice unicorn- ah, fiddlesticks." The old jenny, moving considerably slower than her grandson, came up and stood next to Maud. “I’m so outta touch with the young’uns and their pop idols,” she remarked. “You’re a well-looking yearling type though. You familiar with that one there?” Maud didn’t answer. She felt like her throat was being choked with cement as the little donkey continued gushing. “Gram and me are on ‘r way to Seaward Shoals for vacation. You ever do any shows at Seaward Shoals?” Vinyl Scratch curtly nodded, causing the foal to bray with excitement again. It was a sound that hurt Maud’s heart as well as her ears because not even Princess Twilight, the most famous pony Maud knew, could make children so bright-eyed. And Maud was already nothing compared to Twilight. “Oh dear, I apologize” the old jenny chortled. “My name is Winnie Withers. May I ask who you are?” Winnie’s smile faltered as the gray pony turned its head towards her. The pony had been placid before, but now she was moving with less life than a cockatrice victim. Winnie shivered when she saw how utterly blank its eyes were, as if no one was behind them looking out. No one at all. “Who am I...?” Even the pony’s voice seemed empty, like stale air moving through a desolate cave. “Who cares.” Stiff, robotic steps carried the gray imitation of a mare past Winnie Withers and back up the bus ramp. Frock folds followed, swishing like leaves so dead one could barely imagine they’d ever been alive in the first place. Winnie stole a quick look back at her grandson, whom DJ Pon-3 had momentarily gifted her pair of oversized headphones. “Oh,” he exalted. “Oh oh oh! I know this one. The Smile Song! Come on everypony, smile smile smile…” Winnie turned back to see the defeated gray pony seated again, slumped against a window and staring vacantly into space. The raucous singing of a still braying donkey foal mingled with the barking announcement of the driver. “Back on board, everycreature. We’re on route to stop number 10, Baltimare suburbs." “Fill my heart up with sunshine, sunshine, from these happy friends of mine…”
Fool's GoldMaud Pie was not a pony. Not even one made of peridotite. She'd decided she was a fly in amber now, able to see and be seen but not touch or be touched. It was for the best, really. Nopony wanted to be around a fly. Especially not famous pop stars. With her thick imagined barrier around her, Maud could sit motionless and through stops ten and eleven. Then at the twelfth she'd be back at the farm, amid endless fields of empty colorless rocks. The only place she belonged. Maud wanted to cry, but didn't bother trying. Pillars of salt couldn't cry. Bus wheels rattled over the unpaved roads of the Equestrian countryside. Passengers were jostled, including the ones seated ahead of Maud: a pegasus father with an infant filly on his lap. The foal gurgled uncomfortably and Maud prayed to Faust the baby stayed calm. Then she quickly shook the thought from her head. Flies in amber didn't mind a baby in front of them. Nor the testy-looking griffon across the aisle. And they especially didn't mind the pale, unreachable unicorn in the back that Maud had firmly resolved not to stare at. In fact, Maud was actively staring away from Vinyl Scratch, out through the window at the trees that kept thinning and the earth got sandier. The driver and his passengers were in the empty open countryside between the major cities and Seaward Shoals. The bus hit a bump and the foal sputtered. The dad bounced his baby on his knee, but the sputters continued. Louder and building in pressure. Please no. Don't do what I can't. Another bump set the infant off. Loudly. Lungful after lungful of "wah"s pierced the every ear, earning a chorus of groans. Vinyl Scratch, despite being the farthest away, wrinkled her nose and adjusted her noise-canceling headphones. Maud, the pony nearest to the bleating sobs, miserably gripped her frock tighter around her shoulders. Her ears hurt, and the Maud Sense was overheating. It registered the father's burning embarrassment, a nearby griffon's boiling annoyed anger, and of course the baby's bottomless bawling. Even the driver was perturbed, eyes flickering between the rearview mirror and the road. Two more stops. Just two more until Maud was away from Vinyl Scratch, away from the howling baby, away from everything. She could endure until then. She was encased in amber. The father was flushed with humiliation, clumsily cradling his infant daughter. The flushness of his face reminded Maud of Pinkie, who was equally hopeless with kids. Then the father shifted, and Maud saw the filly proper for the first time. The baby's left eye was obscured by her mane. Her right eye full of freely flowing tears. Fossilized memories moved now, and they manifested Marble, the only Pie sibling more of a mess than Maud herself. It was irrational, Maud knew, to see her crybaby youngest sister in the face of a wailing pegasus foal. But her hooves had already hit the floor, which meant her shell of amber had cracked. As often happened, Maud's body moved on its own while she vexed from inside. Sit back down. He's going to say no. Maud ignored herself. The still moving bus had her swaying off balance, and it would have been so easy to plop back into her seat. But like a downhill boulder, Maud was in motion. Better her than the threatening griffon. You couldn't approach Vinyl Scratch, but you can approach him?! Maud was in the aisleway. The center of the bus, and by now the center of attention. Haberdash from up front. The angry griffon from behind. And the helpless father who hadn't been able to hear her approach. "Let me rock her." "Eh?" The father was gawking at Maud, confused by either the noise or her brazenness. Other eyes were on Maud too, including a pair of interested red ones obscured by sunglasses. Droplets formed on Maud's forehead. On her neck. Under her one armpit that was capable of producing sweat. "Let me rock her. It’s what I'm good at." The baby's wails were deafening this close up. They got even louder when Maud sat down and gingerly accepted the infant from its hesitant father. But through the squall of noise, Maud's forelimbs moved back and forth with inequine steadiness. She was stolid. Stalwart. Even as the crying continued and the bus hit yet another bump. The other passengers were losing hope. So was the father until Maud surprised even herself by hitching up her frock (the left side of course, never the right) and pulling it up to the foal's chin like a blanket. That did it. After a few minutes of the makeshift swaddling, the bus was quiet again. Cloven tried to cheer Maud's success, but Winnie Withers hastily hushed him. Maud hadn't noticed how high her heartrate had gotten. Her breathing had stayed the same, so she was consequently lightheaded. The pacified foal babbled innocently and grasped for its father. Maud sat, relieved to have her hooves emptied. "Amazing," the father drawled in a thick Manehatten accent. "Are you a mom or sumthin'?" "I'm not." Here we go again. Another conversation to botch. "Well you sure got the touch. Wherever you learned it. You'll be a good ma, when the day comes." The father’s smile was encouraging, but Maud's only response was to silently lay a hoof across her stomach. If Maud ever carried her own foal, the sire would of course have to be Mudbriar. Maud wasn't a law expert (not unless you counted knowing exactly which nature preserves forbid rock collecting), but she was pretty sure passing on her defective genes would be some form of child abuse. Foals were tiny, delicate things. Easily misshapen before they were even born. Maud was proof of that. Could her issues, mixed with Mud's issues, mixed with any other unknown additive ones possibly produce a functional foal? How far could someone small and disabled actually make it in Equestria? Several rows back, a successful, nearsighted albino rolled her shoulders. "I might be a mom someday," Maud finally affirmed. "I might." She didn't trust her errant mouth enough to say anything further. "Stop number eleven, Seaward Shoals shoreside." The driver chuckled at the name. "Try saying that one five times fast." Almost the entire bus shifted to stand up, the father included, "This'd be our spot," he remarked. "Thanks again for your help, miss." Maud shakily stood to let them by. Stony though she was, the eventful day was catching up to her. Maud thanked her lucky birthstone this was the last stop before she was home. Not much fossil fuel remained in her reserves. The griffon across the aisle clicked his beak impatiently. Maud didn't notice. She was watching Cloven point through the window at the ocean while Winnie Withers nodded. She saw the driver peering at the town clock tower, pleased to have arrived on time. She regarded Haberdash, who'd pulled off his ever present satchel to smooth some pleats on his suitcoat. Between them all trotted the unnamed father, whose cutie mark Maud observed was a sand castle. All of them were here, at their collective destination, and Maud would be riding the rest of the way alone. It was bittersweet to see them all leave, so she wanted this last moment of everyone together to imprint in her memory. If no one else carried today with them, she at least could. The griffon growled with impatience and elbowed the slow, unresponsive pony out of his way. Maud caught herself on a seat back, crouched but at least not sprawled on the dirty floor. She reasoned she deserved that and tried to call an apology to the griffon. Before she could, the griffon tromped past Haberdash, coiled a hind paw around the satchel strap, and kept pacing. "Wait, my bag- Stop! Thief!!" The griffon bolted, shoving the driver into the half-zebra to get a clear path to the open bus doors. As a mix of hawk and leopard, he was certainly fast. Maud was faster. With speed and strength normally reserved for protecting Pinkie from danger, Maud Pie tackled the purse snatcher, digging her good shoulder into his gut. For once, mindless movement became Maud's ally, since her cold righteous fury couldn't vent via yelling or snarling like a normal pony's could. Instead it echoed through her blood, her muscles, and her forelimbs now stubbornly latticed in a deathgrip around the griffon's midsection. Alarmed donkey brays and horse whinnies rang in Maud's ears while she and her quarry tumbled down the steps to the sand. The griffon loosed a stream of profanity and followed up with a claw swipe. Fabric was shredded and Maud reflexively gripped the collar of her frock. When she did, the griffon squirmed out from under her, wing beats dusting her face with salty particles as he escaped into the sky. On her belly in the beach grass, Maud heaved. Then she rolled onto her back, Haberdash's satchel hugged to her chest. "That was freaking cool!" Cloven was rushing down the stairs to skid to a halt nearby."Did he getcha? How bad did you get him back? Wowie, your dress got ripped good!" That last comment made Maud sit up in slothful panic, holding her bisected frock together like a gaping wound. By now the other passengers were gathering all around. They saw, didn't they? How could anyone miss it? Faces pressed in from all sides. Looking at her. Scrutinizing her. Given a choice, Maud would have dissolved into the sand. But there was no choice. None other than the one that had left her sprawled here. Maud sat where she was, satchel in her lap, steeling herself for jeers. She got praise instead. "My bag!" Haberdash slung the reclaimed prize over his shoulder and clapped his hero warmly on her back. "You're a mare of action if not words, miss Maud." "That's a mighty claw slash," the pegasus father noted. "You're not hurt, are you?" Slowly realizing her life wasn't ruined, Maud dared to check her damage. The talon had hooked her lapel pocket and torn a ragged path downward. Her clothes were more like an open robe now, held in overlapping place by Maud's foreleg gripping an opposite shoulder. Her body didn't have a single scrape, as there was only one place where claw had hit something other than fabric: nested in the threads of Maud's former breast pocket was her pet rock. And on his outward-facing edge, he had a deep gouge exposing his green core. Right where the talon had been deflected. Good boy, Boulder. Very good boy. "That ruffian," Winnie cursed. Her eyes were on the empty sky. "Who steals from travelers on vacation?!" The bus driver was rolling an unlit cigarette in his hoof. "You really can't know a passenger just by lookin' at em," he asserted. "This... erm, this town has a law office. If it's alright with everyone, I'll take minute to report what just happened." Haberdash extended a hoof to help Maud up. When she didn't take it, he shrugged politely and followed the driver to corroborate the story. Cloven wanted to ask Maud more questions, but Winnie shooed him towards the beach. The pegasus father nodded goodbye as he trotted with his baby towards the rental condos. As everyone dispersed around her, Maud inhaled through her nose, then out through her mouth. She remained where she sat, limp but not relaxed. Her eyes were on Vinyl Scratch, still loitering by the bus doors. The unicorn was looking at Maud. Directly at Maud. Breeze blew, waves crested, and beachgrass rustled. There were no other sounds except Vinyl Scratch's approaching hoofsteps. Maud's mind raced, too fast to land on any coherent thoughts. She felt cold like clay, hot like igneous, coarse like granite. Vinyl Scratch pulled off her headphones. Don't crumble. Be peridotite. Vinyl Scratch spoke. "I know you, d-d-don't I?” The unicorn's voice was raspy, like tectonic plates grinding together. She clearly didn't use it often. "Am I r-r-r-right? You're Maud P-Pie?" A silent, nodded response made the DJ grin. "I heard the s-s-striped one in the suit say your name. But even b-b-before that I recognized your dress." "It’s a frock." "It used t-t-to be, anyway." Vinyl Scratch laughed at her own quip, though her atrophied chuckles sounded more like wheezing. "S-s-sorry. Bad joke. I'm not n-normally this nervous." "Nervous." "S-s-sure. I know we n-n-never talked back in school, and most of that was m-m-my fault because I was still shy about my st-stut... my st-sutt-st-" Vinyl Scratch's wheezing chuckles came back. It was cosmically absurd, not being able to pronounce her own speech impediment. "Whatevs. You feel my f-f-flow. Or maybe you don't, actually. The reason I r-r-remember you from back then be-c-c-cause I was always j-j-jealous." Maud blinked. Then blinked again. "Jealous." "Of c-course. I was jealous of everyone who c-c-could talk calm and clear. And y-y-you talked the calmest." Maud's grip on her collar loosened. Just a little bit. "I'm not as calm as I look, Vinyl Scratch." "If you s-s-say so. But nopony else did anything when that b-b-baby cried. Or when that griffon ran. Es-p-pecially not me. Whatever y-you're made of, its tough stuff." Maud's grip re-tightened. "It is. Its very tough." Sensing she'd stepped off beat, Vinyl Scratch rubbed her neck. Headphones jostled at the motion, and from where Maud was kneeling, it almost looked like the unicorn had a frock collar of her own. "It's not f-f-fun, is it? Solo sessions alone with your th-thoughts. Those happen to me when I'm traveling on the road b-b-between gigs. But music can fill that dead air. Do you like m-music, Maud?" "Sure." "Y-yeah?" Vinyl Scratch was perking up again. "I bet your f-favorite genre is rock." "I like metal. It's harder and heavier than rock." Now it was the DJ's turn to stare blankly. "That was a pun." "Oh! I g-g-get it now. Good one!" Maud nodded. Although she couldn't laugh at her own joke, Vinyl Scratch produced enough raspy guffaws for the two of them. "You should do st-st-stand up comedy. I've played enough venues to know deadpan d-d-delivery is a lost art." Maud had tried doing stand up. Once. The only compliments she'd gotten were from Pinkie Pie, and praise from Pinkie was hard to weigh. But encouragement from a career performer like Vinyl Scratch... "Aha, I th-th-think that was the preamble to a smile I just saw. You done p-p-pouting in the d-dirt down there?" Vinyl Scratch's hoof reached down. Maud accepted it, and was pulled to standing upright. Between the two of them, Maud was taller. She hadn't noticed before. "No offense Maud, but y-your outfit looks as b-bad as my voice sounds." Maud reflexively reached for her collar, then stopped. Vinyl Scratch was speaking to her. Taking a plunge by revealing her shameful stammer. It was a show of trust, especially since it was shared without having to be requested. To Tartarus with it. One secret deserves another. Tit for tat, as Pinkie would say. Maudelina Daisy Pie gripped her shredded frock with both hooves and pulled it off over her head. She gave the tattered linen a shake, pretending to just be smoothing sand out of it. As she did, Maud turned to display the sprawling strawberry birthmark that marred half her body. Stretching from elbow to gaskin, Maud’s secret was a hairless expanse of mottled pink hide. Her defect’s lurid, pockmarked welts scalded her velvet grey coat, like craggy islands jutting through a placid sea. It was pale from lack of sun, and though the ridges looked angry and inflamed, just like all of Maud its looks were deceiving. Mudbriar, the only pony who’d held Maud close and unclothed since she was a baby, could attest that Maud was every bit as soft and easy to hug as any unblemished pony. Overcooked in the womb the birthmark may have been, skin was just skin. And Maud was just Maud. She wasn't half stone, half peridotite, half anything. She was pure pony, warts and all. Flourish complete, Maud shivered in the seabreeze. Vinyl still hadn't said anything, but she did give a slow nod to confirm she recognized and appreciated Maud baring herself like this. “It was good to finally hear from you, Vinyl Scratch.” “Nice to… nice to ss-s-see you t-t-tt-too.” A polite cough alerted both mares that the bus driver was back. Vinyl Scratch clamped her mouth closed, redfaced at the possibility he'd heard her. Maud meanwhile draped her torn former frock over her good shoulder. She didn't express any shame. Whether she felt any, Maud hadn't decided yet. "Sorry if I'm interruptin' anything, but the report's been filed and we can get back on the road." He brandished his keys. Say thank you. Maud urged herself. Say it. "Sure." Oh well. Roam wasn't built in a day. "All aboard who's coming aboard," the driver announced. "Though, I think its just you, ma'am. Stop number twelve? The farm near Rockville?" Vinyl Scratch pawed mutely the sand. Maud spoke up so her new friend wouldn't have to. "Sure. Only me." The driver nodded, taking one last drag to finish his cigarette. Then he trotted to his place behind the steering wheel. "You travel all over," Maud said to Vinyl Scratch. "I don't. But I’ll be back in Seaward Shoals this autumn. For one day." Vinyl Scratch believed she could pick up what Maud was putting down. “It… it's a date. I can def-definitely fit a day at the beach into my schedule. I already own a sunblocking w-w-wetsuit to let me s-swim without burning.” Maud finally smiled. "I like to swim too." The diesel engine started up and Vinyl nodded goodbye. She had no parting words, but that was alright. None were needed between quiet friends. Maud sat peaceably on the empty bus, shredded former frock in her lap. She'd be home soon. Able to inform Limestone she'd won a fight. Able to hug Marble. Able to shake off all the dust and plaster from her soul, now that she was no longer a pillar of salt. This frock would still need to be mended though. If not for herself, then for those who knew her for it. Boulder especially. Maud held her pet rock to her bare chest and breathed deep. He had a scratch now, but so did Maud. A scraping scratch and a Vinyl Scratch. She was looking forward to autumn. Author's Note Source of the above gif: https://www.deviantart.com/yooyfull/art/What-a-boring-pony-441258324
