Chapters Family is where one is supposed to feel safe. Accepted. Loved. Family is supposed to make one feel wanted. Well, this family failed.
Family? More like a fucking freak show.
Limestone looked at the ponies around the table. Their numbers had nearly doubled; it was some sort of couples’ celebration. Ma and Pa said the Choosing Stone had to bless all the couples of the family, because it helped foster a good relationship or something.
She didn’t care. At least not about this “couples” shit. She watched them all stare into each other’s eyes while she rolled hers.
“This is a glorious occasion,” Pa began. “We art truly blessed to have so many happy daughters. And those that love them art decent ponies. We hope the Choosing Stone brings happiness to ye all.”
Pinkie and Cheese released an explosion of confetti and streamers from somewhere.
Their constant cheer was unnatural and grating. Always on party mode. Did they have some sort of generator in their ass that gave them that energy? Or was it drugs? Limestone suspected drugs, but didn’t care enough to question them about it, because that would mean talking to them more.
Maud and Mudbriar sat as still as statues. Fuck, Limestone would have sworn she heard the sound of two rocks scratching against each other the few times she saw them kiss.
She shuddered at the thought. It was weird enough Maud found a boyfriend, but Mudbriar was beyond annoying. Every time she opened her mouth to have an opinion, he’d rip the sentence apart and correct her. She nearly bucked him in his fucking mouth a few times. She wondered why she hadn’t.
Maud. He made Maud happy. She wouldn’t mess with that, even if she had to sit there and take his constant corrections and inane observations.
Then there was Marble and Vinyl. Why couldn’t she take those fucking headphones off? Her baby sister needed to be listened to. She needed to be respected. That dumb DJ would just sit there, bobbing her head, while Marble barely spoke a word. They just knew what the other wanted. Marble talked even less now than she had with that fucking heart breaker Big Mac. Limestone would never forgive that dumb red fucker for he did to her.
That memory made her think of Vinyl and Marble’s drunken escapade. She wondered for the millionth time if Marble had been taken advantage of. But then, Vinyl was still around, so it seemed like there was a true connection between them.
Her attention turned back to her father’s dry words. He seemed to be actually beaming at them as he spoke. Well as much as he could. She noticed he never looked towards her. “We shalt depart on the morrow—” Limestone could hardly wait “—for now, enjoy thine company and feast. But first, thine food must receive a blessing.”
The table bowed their head in practiced obedience. Even Limestone wouldn’t dare break that tradition. She closed her mouth so that the others wouldn’t hear her teeth grinding; it was loud enough she didn’t even hear Pa’s words. The blessing of the Choosing Stone! That was a three day journey, and she would have to deal with this awful situation the entire time. Limestone actually longed for the days when she at least had Marble to keep her company. But Marble had Vinyl now, and that was all she talked about.
“The rock bless us all!”
The rest of the table echoed those words back to her father and then began to eat. Limestone looked down at the stone soup with disinterest, but dutifully filled her mouth with as sharp a stone as she could find.
The points jabbed into her teeth and stabbed her gums. It was painful; that was good. The pain gave her something more pressing to hate. She unleashed her fury on the stones in her mouth. Each piece broke along its cleavage in a satisfying crunch.
She glanced at the others. The looks on dinner guests’ faces always put a sadistic smile on hers—the uncomfortable wincing and dejected look of unsatisfied palates brought joy to the little pony’s heart. It was nice to know that at least she wasn’t the only one suffering in this fucked-up world.
But she wasn’t even allowed that small pleasure. These guests looked fucking merry as they enjoyed their meal.
Well, most of them. Mudbriar had no expression at all, which made sense; that pony was weird. Cheese had somehow covered his rocks in a candy coating, and was happily munching away. Even the newcomer, DJ Pon-Vinyl whatever, didn’t seem bothered at all.
The fury returned with a vengeance. She grumbled slightly to herself as she fished out another spiky specimen.
“Oh, Limey,” cried Pinkie, waving her hooves frantically, “don’t look so down! I’m sure you’ll find somepony.”
“Who says I need one?” Limestone spat. “I have the farm. And I don’t need somepony that will slow me down.”
“But-but, having some special pony makes the world shine! It’s like a vanilla and jalapeno cupcake that never gets any smaller, and each bite is just as delicious as the last.”
“Sounds boring. Wouldn’t you eventually want something else?”
“But vanilla jalapeno is the best! Why would a pony want something else? Ohh, unless it’s got chocolate. Then you can just get one with chocolate too. I want chocolate! Do we have any chocolate, Cheesy Peasy?”
Agh! Stupid cute pet names were the worst. “Cheesy Peasy”, “Pinkie Muffin, at least the other two couples didn’t talk like that. What was wrong with calling a pony by name? Or making them say your name? A slight smile appeared on Limestone’s face at that thought.
“Limestone!” barked Pa. “Eat the food that the rock has provided ye. Smiling upon it doesn’t provide thee nourishment.”
The soup filled Limestone’s mouth once more. Her smirk disappeared into a hard scowl. It was as natural as the way her mane fell around her face. She was the eldest, and still she was getting scolded like a foal. In front of the guests no less. She choked on the next mouthful as she fought the urge to overturn the table, but another stern look from Pa made the food listen to the muscles in her throat.
It wasn’t fair. She was the oldest. Just because some stupid special pony hadn’t been strong enough to handle her, she had to suffer. A montage of awful dates flashed through her mind: A collection of useless fuck-ups that had tried to get on her good side. Including that brother of Pinkie’s friend—that skeevy pegasus deserved the hoof to the head he got. She’d felt like a piece of meat in front of him. Stallions were the worst for that.
She’d tried to date a mare or two, but they always cried worse than the stallions.
The amount of fucking dates Pinkie had tried to set her up on flashed through her mind. Every Pie Sister Surprise Day they had, the little sister had brought a new “friend.” Somepony who was there to “help out,” or “learn the value of family,” or, “I accidentally ran this stallion over and broke his hoof. Can you take him to the hospital?”
Please. That stallion had been so fragile she could have crushed him by sneezing. All he did was cry about the bumps and being jostled the whole time.
All this talk about couples and special some ponies was fucking annoying. Where was it written that she needed anyone? Sure, the mighty Choosing Stone blessed couples that were brought to it and showed compatibility, but that didn’t mean every pony needed to have another. She was perfectly fine by herself.
She glanced at Marble quickly with that thought. Her fellow farm pony. Maud and Pinkie had left already, but Marble had stayed. Now she had the silly DJ to distract her. She was so tired of hearing about the rhythms of the music and the excitement of being the one the famous musician came home to. If love could take her best… her sister and make her into a pony like that, Limestone wanted nothing to do with it.
“Limestone,” the flat tones of Maud sailed across the table like a beam. One that didn’t move but struck you in the ear. “You bit the side of the bowl. It’s made of alabaster, which is not a type of rock you want to eat.”
Limestone looked down. A chunk was missing from her bowl where she had missed the soggy stone she had been aiming for. Her mouth was filled with a powdery, chalky taste of the hardened clay. She looked at Maud whose expressionless face simply stared back. She resumed chewing the crispy power in spite and swallowed it.
“Limestoneabelle Louise Pie!” shouted Pa. “Thou hast forsaken the stones of sustenance. Please go out and sit by Holder’s Boulder and think about your actions.”
Limestone slammed the table with her hooves and she got up in a huff. The rest of the occupants tried to ignore her. It was typical. She had feelings and the rest tried to sweep them under the table.
They betrayed her constantly. They did it everywhere. Whenever Limestone got a little heated outside the farm, the family would all move away from her. So much for having her back.
The dust shot up in large plumes as her hooves struck the earth. A dust cloud hung in the thick air. It was a trail from the house to the boulder that Limestone felt was a close friend. Her birthright. The only thing that didn’t shy away from her when she was angry. The stable rock that didn’t judge. It didn’t care if she had a special somepony or not. It didn’t care if she shouted, screamed, kicked it, or cried into its weathered form. It was always there for her. And she would always be there for it.
She looked at the small pockmarks and strange carvings etched across its face. It was something that Limestone always wondered about. Even Pa and Ma didn’t seem to know where the markings had come from; or, if they did, they kept it to themselves.
She had always imagined that this was a well-kept magic stone. If she could just unlock the cryptic runes, she could find that happiness that everypony was stuffing down her fucking throat. But the stone gave no answers, or at least none that Limestone could discern.
Sometimes she did get answers from things. Occasionally, she felt emotions from ponies and things around her like they were her own. But she found the intrusion only increased her agitation. If she was angry enough, she could shut them out.
A brush of sand and the steady plod of hooves on gravel alerted Limestone that Pa was coming. He always came after he scolded her. Sometimes he would reemphasize the dangers of defying tradition; other times it was to console her when she was justified but couldn’t express it right. She knew that she was on edge with all the merriment but couldn’t wind herself down.
“Limestoneabelle...” Pa’s voice came out in a gentle whisper. He used her full name. It was only used in moments like this. For scolding or a deeper connection. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to. She knew she didn’t do anything wrong. They were wrong. They were parading around their happy lives and leaving her out. But then, when she was there, it was worse.
“I know ye aren’t feeling well,” the voice behind her began. “This beith a hard time for thee. The stone hasn’t brought ye your mate. They are out there somewhere, still trying to get good enough for ye.”
Limestone turned. Her father was backlit by the lights of their home, but the stars illuminated his face. His normal frown was replaced with the faintest hint of a smile. His eyes were soft and caring.
“What makes you think I need one?” asked Limestone in a harsh whisper. The fight in her had fled. Pa could tell what was going on.
“Ye know ye don’t mean that. Everypony needs somepony to love. Be it stallion or mare, as long as they bring ye peace and company, they will be an honored guest in our home.”
Limestone could feel the anger turn on her. It betrayed her. It left her with the feeling of defeat and loss. It made her feel the sadness that always hid underneath. She tried to place a fresh application of agitation on it and kicked a stone. It brought her some comfort but not enough. The tears were there, threatening to descend. She tried to hide it but her father’s hoof caught her chin.
“I am thine father. I would not betray yer trust. Any emotions ye feel can be loosened upon the landscape. Just be mindful that yer sisters are happy now. Try to be happy for them.”
Limestone silently nodded. A single tear escaped her eyes. She caught it with her hoof and glared at it in protest. How dare it betray her. She slammed it into a nearby rock as a warning to others if they even thought of a similar act.
“Ye are hurting. So I hath decided to break tradition, which mine own father did not do for me: Ye do not have to go to the Choosing Stone with us. Ye can stay here and tend the farm. Look upon our land as your mate, and treat it with the care and kindness ye only show to it. One day it shall reward ye.”
Limestone stood there with her mouth hanging open. Breaking tradition? Pa? The stallion lived, ate, slept, and breathed the way of the stone. And he was breaking that sacred path by allowing her to stay. Should she agree? The idea of trudging miles land surrounded by her sisters and their mates sounded like fucking Tartarus itself. But it was tradition that all the family be present to see if the Choosing Stone gave its consent. Did she feel so uncomfortable that she would miss that just to avoid it?
“We leave early. Ye can rest. Find peace in the solitude of the stones,” Pa said as he turned to the farm house. “For now, please honor yer sisters’ happiness and return when ye can be respectful.”
Limestone leaned against the boulder and tried to catch her breath. Pa thought her feelings were important enough to break tradition. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her, and she was too shocked to respond. She weakly followed her father into the home.
“Feeling better, Limey? You look like you lost all the recipes for the cake you were trying to bake,” Pinkie asked as the wobbling mare entered.
All she could do was nod and flop to the floor. Her father looked at her and nodded. “In this house we think of each other. We put the family’s needs first. Limestone does not feel well, as ye can see by the color of her coat. Thus, she will stay home, and not accompany us to the stone. She will recover here.”
“What?!” cried the family almost in unison. Each voice shrill and grating except Maud’s. Her voice was more of a dull ache.
“But… but we’re all supposed to go,” whined Pinkie.
“How will Limestone know if the rock blesses us?” cried the soft voice of Marble.
“It’s tradition,” Maud flatly reminded them.
“Now, I admit yer father is breaking tradition,” said Ma in a soothing tone, “but he thinks of you fillies first. If Limestone be not well, then perhaps we should honor her wishes.”
“Well…” Pinkie said with a hoof to her mouth, “maybe we can go when Limey feels better.”
“Neigh,” said Pa with a dismissive hoof. “Ye all took time off from yer busy lives. I would not see thine time wasted. We shall go as planned, and Limestone will remain.”
Looks of sadness and pity cast themselves in Limestone’s path. Except from DJ Vinyl Pon; she didn’t have any look at all. Probably didn’t even hear Pa through her headphones.
Shame rushed to Limestone’s face and painted it a deep red hue. She hated that feeling. Why should she be made to feel it? She didn’t do anything wrong. It was them. But she felt it all the same.
“Our journey begins early,” Pa continued. “It would be best if thee all rest. Take thine places in thine beds that we have prepared. Take care to remember that the rock sees all. Let that sleep and calm take thee, and not fall into shameful acts. Good night, mine foals. Good night, honored guests.”
The couples began filing out. Pa had actually let each couple share a bed due to space constraints. It was better than the Pie sisters sharing a bed, but Limestone knew what awaited her: Her creepy old bed and lumpy mattress. It was the same every night. Its comfort had long worn off, but Limestone never complained about it. The bed would win if she did.
The bed creaked under the dense weight of the earth mare as she deflated into it. She wondered why the stone was so cruel. She had given the farm her all every day, yet the others got to live different lives with companions, while all she got was scolded and left behind.
She wished she knew what to do about the situation. Social mores were something she was naturally opposed to—the network of pony interactions was like a strange puzzle that Limestone didn’t have the pieces for. She hated playing games anyway.
She looked at her empty room. It looked back at her with nothing to give but support. No love, no feedback, just a tall monolith of emptiness. A tomb for her and her dreams.
What were her dreams? She used to think if she was just a good farm filly, things would go well. She would eventually have the kind of life her mother had.
But that had never happened. Besides, the more colts she met, the more they irritated her. It seemed hopeless.
Even those offending tears didn’t fear her anymore. They soaked into the misshapen pillow, and Limestone didn’t stop them.
Limestone woke up from her bed feeling hoarse and dry. Her eyelids stuck together from her weeping. She had to get to the bathroom first, before anypony found out she had been crying.
She took one step out into the hallway and knew the bathroom wouldn’t be a problem—they’d already left. The normal warmth of home felt drafty and hollow. Her steps echoed awkwardly as she marched to the sink.
She turned the faucet on and heard the telltale thunks of the water pump. The trickle of water sputtered and spat as the air was released from its bondage. She placed her hooves into the cold stream and brushed the gleaming drops across her eyes.
An odd whistle caught her ear. It was coming from the rafters. The wind. She never heard the house by itself before. Soon the whistle turned into a moan. Limestone sighed. She would show that fucking loose shingle something to moan about. After breakfast. Breakfast!
She raced down stairs and was greeted with a perfectly clean table and kitchen. No pony had left her anything! She had to make breakfast herself. The table shifted in the air as her hooves kicked in a huff. Luckily, the table was used to this kind of behavior and didn’t shatter like its predecessors had.
The grumbling mare opened up cabinet after cabinet searching for something she could make. Then it dawned on her. That dumb fuckhead friend of Pinkie’s had given her a gift for Hearth’s Warming.
As if that would make up for nearly destroying Holder’s Boulder. Still, it promised to be interesting.
She found the bag and instructions where she had placed them. She knew if she didn’t hide it then Pinkie would have eaten it, probably without cooking it first. The instructions said, “Howdy, sorry about last year. I didn’t mean to cause you such trouble. This here is my own famous flapjack recipe. Nothing better fer a fine breakfast. Share them with the family, cousin. AJ.”
The annoying mare had signed it with a heart. Or was that an apple? The lousy penmanship made it hard to read. But Limestone could make out the ingredients and the order in which to put them. She set about making her breakfast.
One burned hoof, one cracked, offending pan, and a few blackened trials later, Limestone was ready to eat. The bag had some sticky stuff in it as well: some sort of syrup that came from a tree. She poured it on top of the “flapjack.” She didn’t trust trees, but she tried nevertheless; after all, she’d already come this far.
The round, fluffy, sponge-like substance entered her mouth. As soon as her tongue touched it, it felt like she was punched by something Pinkie had made. The sugary flavor filled her mouth and blocked all her senses. Her mouth puckered up in response and her body shook slightly. How could ponies eat this stuff? However, Limestone had no alternative as her hunger took over. She quickly devoured the glucose laden, carb-filled disc.
Then she felt a strange, full sensation in her stomach.
“Ugh, what is this stuff?!” she whined to the empty chairs. “It’s like I swallowed a brick, and it keeps getting bigger!”
The floor came rushing to aid and caught her face as she collapsed. Its cold surface tried to help ease her suffering. It offered a nice hard friend to lean on.
Limestone just felt pain, from both her stomach and her head. The world spun from the glut of sugar, and she was pinned by excess carbs. She tried poking her tummy to remind it who was boss; the belly showed her who was really in charge.
“She tricked me. That stupid cowpony!” shouted Limestone. “Argh… I can barely move.”
The wind blew against that shingle again. It mocked her with its happy wail. At least Limestone thought it sounded happy. She would show that thing just as soon as she could move again. The downed mare struggled and wriggled, but in the end succumbed and fell asleep. The three remaining flapjacks waited for the fate they knew would befall them when she woke.
***
A blurry eye opened after what could have been hours later. Its owner shakily lifted herself off the floor and looked at the clock. It had been ten minutes.
Limestone prepared to take on the daily chores. The rocks in the south field had to be rolled. The north field boulders were ready to be broken. The crystals they grew were prized by the dragons in the north—the Pies had been dealing with them for generations.
She shifted her shoulders and prepared for a long day. Then she remembered: Pa had said to tend the farm, not the fields. She was supposed to be sick. She didn’t have to do anything but rest. She was free to do whatever she wanted, and nopony would even know.
Ten minutes later, Limestone found herself in the north field. The work still had to be done. She didn’t actually want to do it, but she knew it was her farm. If she was going to run it, she had to show the family that she could do it alone.
The wind had picked up, kicking up dust in massive clouds. The dust scratched along her flanks to the skin. She began breaking the ripe stones anyway; the wind should know better than to mess with her.
A mighty gust nearly blew her over as she raised her pick. She brought it down with a dull twang . The wind had stolen her momentum.
“Why, you fucking stupid weather?” shrieked the rock farmer. “I am harvesting this field!”
She quickly began chipping away at the largest specimen. The pick struck home but she needed a pry bar to crack the geode open. “Marble! Give me the pry bar,” hissed the stubborn mare. She didn’t dare remove the pick or the pressure would close her opening. She reached her hoof out for the pry bar that never came.
“Goddamn it, Marbleena, where is my fucking pry…”
The memory hit her like the pick in her mouth. Marble wasn’t there. No pony was there. This rock would have to be broken through sheer force. The hatred welled up in her. This was her farm. Her body. Her will! It should all listen.
A large crack was stolen by the wind as the rock revealed its bounty. Limestone stared at the split sphere. A smile of satisfaction spread across her face but was immediately pelted by sand borne by a gale. A storm was brewing in the distance. Darkness was surging its way towards the little farm. There was no way a bit of rain, sand and wind was going to stop her.
Limestone leapt back to work. Each small round boulder found its doom under the swing of her pick. The sand did not sway her. It poured on her ears and filled her mane. The pick did not stop. Mighty whacks cleaved the ore allowing the crystalline center to show through.
The wind was not impressed. It sent more sand, dust and debris at the hardworking mare. It would not let some mere earth pony defy its might. Sand blasted her. Each gust stripped Limestone’s patience, exposing her raw fury.
“You think you can beat mmphth—” she screamed as her mouth filled with sand. “I’m Lime ppthhf—“ another mouth of sand. “Limest pppth—” and another. “Dammit!”
But it did. Limestone dragged her pick through the stinging sand and sheer wind. She grumbled quietly to herself. This was not the way to show she deserved the farm. She wasn’t used to losing, but was smarter than she was stubborn.
She dropped her pick by the door in case the storm let up soon. A strange glow caught her eye and she wondered if she was delirious. Was Holder’s Boulder glowing? It was slight and only lasted for a second. Maybe it was just the way the sand reflected the light. She shook her head and entered her home.
A cold shower was normally a pleasant experience for the farm pony. It normally soothed her sore muscles and washed away any aches she had. The water normally exhilarated her. This time it just made her cold. Worse, it found its way into all the little open wounds and cuts that the sand had left. It didn’t make her feel good today, it just added to her misery.
The fireplace was lit and Limestone wrapped herself in a quilt. She sat in an armchair and sighed. This was tougher than she thought. The warmth of the covering made her sleepy. It was warm and comfortable in her cocoon against the storm. The shingle howled its protest but Limestone ignored it. She wasn’t going to get to it today. She wasn’t going to do anything today.
A familiar scent wafted up from the quilt. It was an old fragrance that sparked her memory: Grandma.
It was Grandma’s quilt.
She could almost see the old mare, sitting by the fire, weak limbs coiled under the quilt as she tried to absorb every last bit of warmth. She looked so small. So pathetic. She was always alone. Limestone hated seeing her. But now she understood why.
The scene before her seemed so inevitable, it almost felt set in stone. She would be here, alone, while the rest of the family lived their lives. She would grow older, and more angry and bitter. Soon they wouldn’t visit. She would be an old mare and no pony would even know her passing. She felt so old. And annoyed that there was still sand in her butt.
Time moved infinitesimally slow. The shingle yelled its call through the house. The sad mare shifted in her quilt. A gurgling sound reminded that her body needed nourishment after all that work. She had no energy left to make food.
Then her eyes alighted on the remaining flapjacks.
***
“Aargh! Why did I eat two?!” she writhed on the floor with her stomach bloated, feeling dizzy. “I even put that sticky stuff on it again!”
Limestone writhed on the floor once more. But she knew why: Dealing with this was easier than that quilt and chair. She knew she needed to change. She just didn’t know how.
The shingle screamed an awful scream. It was shrill and clear. It got louder and ended in a large crack. Limestone glared at the roof. How had the wind done that? It was just the wind, wasn’t it?
“Aaaaaaaaaa, heeelp! Somepony help!”
That wasn’t the shingle. It was a pony. Somepony needed her help. The pains of the flapjacks fled instantly. She was at the door peering through the darkened, sand-filled farm. “Hello?” she called out into the darkness.
“Hello? Is somepony out there? I need help!”
The voice was coming from Holder’s Boulder. Some mare was out there in this and touching Holder’s Boulder. She could feel it.
“I’m coming. Just don’t touch Holder’s Boulder!”
“What?! This rock is the only thing keeping me from falling off this cliff!”
“Alright, just don’t hurt it!” the farm pony assured. The wind and sand whipped at her face. She could see Holder’s Boulder and a small tuft of neon blue. “I see you! I’m almost there! Hang on!”
“No shit!” cried the blue mass. Limestone smirked. Finally, another pony not afraid to use profanity. She found a pair of blue hooves clinging tightly to her beloved landmark.
Strong rock-breaking hooves grabbed at the ones in front of her. Limestone strained and pulled the tuft up until it became a full-fledged pegasus. She didn’t stop to look and threw the pony around on her back.
For such a small creature, the pegasus weighed a lot. She must have been all muscle; Limestone could tell this was a strong pegasus to even try to fly in a storm like this.
Still, Limestone could bear it. She was tough. She walked with slow, steady plods into the farmhouse.
The rock-strong mare nearly collapsed into the home. She forced her legs to hold her through sheer will. No way would she show any weakness now. She gently placed her charge on the ground.
Limestone then realized that the blue she had seen before was actually a uniform. The pony beneath it was yellow, with a mane streaked in the same yellow and bright orange. Limestone could see that one wing was sticking out awkwardly.
This was a Wonderbolt; Limestone wasn’t so backwater that she didn’t recognize the uniform. However, she had no idea who this was, and the pegasus wasn’t talking. The mare had passed out from the strain.
Limestone sighed. She needed to get the Wonderbolt out of that uniform and set her wing. It was going to be very painful.
She felt a smile creep across her face.
Chapter 3: Unstoppable Force
“Aaaaaah! What the fuck are you doing?!”
“Your wing is broken! It’s not my fucking fault!”
“You could at least be gentler. This hurts like a bitch!”
“If you want it to heal right stop being a whiny bitch!”
Limestone probably could be gentler. But this pegasus just admitted she put a crack in Holder’s Boulder. The sacred stone of the farm. She cracked it. What kind of lame-brained Wonderbolt couldn’t see a precious stone right in front of her?
Limestone ground her teeth again as she found the right angle the wing needed to be at. She lashed it to a piece of wood that was the right size. The pegasus lay in her bed writhed in agony on her stomach.
“This is no way to treat the head of the Wonderbolts,” demanded the patient. “Show some respect to your elders!”
“From what you just told me, I’m older than you!” spat Limestone. “Now quit squirming so I can set this!”
For once, the head of the Wonderbolts relented. She laid still. Limestone was able to wrap the wing with minimal groans. The farm pony was surprised. A procedure like this should have had her screaming in pain. But the expression on her face and the way she gritted her teeth told the earth mare that she was fighting it. Limestone was momentarily impressed.
“Are you done yet? I have wet-eared cadets that could wrap this faster than you,” grumbled Spitfire. Limestone found out her name and age when she lifted the pegasus up the stairs. It was part of the distraction they both used while she took Spifire’s uniform off. Small talk to lessen the awkwardness.
“You want me to tighten it a little further, Captain?” snarked the farm mare. “Or are you done with the criticism?”
“You’re pretty sassy to somepony that’s hurt.”
“Well if somepony had some gratitude for pulling your yellow butt off a cliff in a sandstorm, maybe I wouldn’t be so salty.”
“Huh,” Spitfire finally said. “Well... I Uh...am sorry. You're right. I just don’t like being grounded.”
“What were you doing up there anyway?”
The Wonderbolt turned her head to look at her savior behind her. “We were trying to break up that storm. It’s the Wonderbolts’ job to tackle storms like that. But it was too much for us. The squad got tossed around. Luckily I found a jetstream and got the team out but a rogue crosswind knocked me off course and sent me crashing into your farm. Sorry about your rock.”
“It’s a boulder! Holder’s Boulder! It's sacred to us!”
“Look! I can’t take it back! I didn’t actually aim for it! I was thrown into it by the wind. It’s what broke my wing if that’s any consolation. And if it wasn’t for it I would have fallen off that cliff.”
Limestone held back any further comments. The pegasus was right. The wind threw her there. She didn’t do it intentionally. The earth pony ground her teeth to keep anything unpleasant from escaping.
She remembered that quilt. If she didn’t change now, then when?
“Are you warm enough?” Limestone said. “I have an old quilt you could use. You should rest.”
“Rest?! I need to get back to my squad!” protested Spitfire. She started to push herself up through the pain back onto her hooves, but a grey hoof easily knocked her flat.
“Hey!”
“Are you stupid?! That storm is still out there. It could kill you. You’re in no condition to do anything.”
“But...my team needs me.”
“Your team doesn’t need a fucking corpse, which is what you’ll be if you go out there,” growled Limestone. Rocks were less dense than this pony’s brain.
Spitfire’s face and ears dropped. There was some muttering, but the fight left the ponies muscles. “I wouldn’t say no to a blanket. If you want to get me one. Wouldn’t mind some food either.”
The sadistic grin returned to Limestone’s face. “What do you think about flapjacks?”
***
The couch was not a comfortable place to sleep. With the house empty, Limestone had the choice of any bed she wanted. None of them felt right; they weren’t hers. She wondered if she could put Spitfire on the couch, but knew it wasn’t right to treat guests that way. She flopped around uselessly on the couch. It was just as lumpy as her bed, but not the right kind of lumps.
The storm raged on outside. What the heck? Wasn’t it the pegasus’s job to stop this kind of thing from happening? Then she remembered her guest in her bed. They had tried doing just that, and now the captain of the Wonderbolts was hurt.
A small pang of guilt raced along her tortured stomach. She took a deep breath. She needed to be different—she didn’t want to end up like Granny. Perhaps offering the flapjacks hadn’t been a good idea.
Eventually, the raindrops and wind aided the farm pony to Luna’s embrace. A small twinge of fear jumped in her mind as it wondered how the rest of the family was weathering the storm. But the exhaustion stole that thought away.
***
Screams cut through the house. Screams of agony and pain. It was umpteen in the fucking morning and Limestone was nearly shook off the couch by them. That fucking shingle has had its last laugh. But it wasn’t the shingle. It was a pony voice. Marble? Pinkie? No, it was that captain! What the fuck was wrong now?!
Limestone stomped up the stairs with such force that her hooves nearly broke through the planks. Broken wing or no broken wing, Limestone was going to help her sleep. One way or another.
The earth pony opened the door wide, preparing for some Pie anesthesia, when she saw Spitfire struggling. The sleeping pegasus looked so sweet and innocent. All the furrows and wrinkles in her brow were gone. The face looked almost cute.
“Noooo!” the cute face screamed in agony. “No more… no. Don’t give me anymore.”
Spitfire was talking in her sleep. Well, a nice, gentle knock of the hoof would cure that.
“No more pancakes. I can’t take it. Stop, mean farm pony. I don’t want anymore. They hurt.”
Mean?! She was mean?! She helped carry her in and set her wing. Why was she mean? For some reason, Limestone felt her ears flop to the side.
She had just been about to bop the pegasus in the head. That was kind of mean. And she supposed she could have set the wing a little gentler. The quilt edge dangled from the edge of that wing.
She sighed. Her hoof gently touched Spitfire’s back. The pegasus started to quiet down with some gentle rocking. It felt strange to touch another pony like that. It was the softest touch she’d ever used.
Spitfire’s anguished face turned to one of peace again. Limestone returned to the couch, with her hoof oddly warmed by another pony’s body. She drifted off wondering why it felt so… good.
Morning came. Maybe. The wind still bellowed through the shingle. What little light the sun gave made darkness just a little less dark. Limestone was up and stiff. The couch was a mess of cushions and bedding. She didn’t sleep well. Some dream about a glowing stone and a heart. She didn’t really remember.
“Alright, rookie,” boomed a mobile Captain. She had her wings strapped down and her legs shook slightly. But she puffed her chest out in pride. Limestone noticed she looked smaller without her uniform. “Thanks a lot for patching me up and the… umm… food. But it’s time to get back to my team.”
Limestone rolled her eyes. “Sure, let me just open the door for you.” The snark was palatable. She swung the door to the farm open and was instantly sandblasted. The darkness remained. The wind didn’t let up. It looked like the world was ending out there. “You ready?”
Spitfire looked outside with trepidation. She took a few determined steps forward but stopped. “Alright, alright, you made your point. Looks like we’re stuck here.”
“I live here,” Limestone said with an edge. Just try and insult the farm, just try.
“Whoa! That couch sleep didn’t do you any favors. I just meant we aren’t going anywhere, I didn’t say your home was bad. Sheesh, lighten up, Limey.”
“L-L-Limey?! Where do you get off?! Do you want me to start calling you Spitty?”
“Ooh, a soft spot in that thick armor of yours,” Spitfire said cheekily. Who did she think she was? “Hey, it’s no big deal. We all have nicknames in the Wonderbolts.”
“And what was yours? Shitfire?”
“That was a little harsh. Limey isn’t that insulting. You got some mouth on you, missy.” Spitfire’s words were inches from Limestone’s face. “You need me to take you down a peg?”
“As if! Your wings busted. It’s not a fair fight!”
“So you wanna fight? After patching me up, you want to fight me? Over Limey?!”
“It’s not the name, it's the attitude.”
“I could say the same thing about you.”
The mares were inches from each other. Limestone’s body shook with adrenaline. This guest was getting on her last nerve. Spitfire was barely standing, but wasn’t backing down. Limestone was taken back a little. Most ponies couldn’t be in the same room as her fury, let alone stand up to it.
The two stared into each other’s eyes. The same fire burned in both of them.
“Mean farm pony ” suddenly echoed through Limestone’s high-strung brain, and the fire relented. Was she being mean? She did just threaten to beat up an injured pony over a nickname.
“Gah!” Limestone screamed. “Fine! I’m not a mean pony.”
“I didn’t say you were,” Spitfire said, eyeing her up and down.
“You did,” Limestone insisted, letting all the fire out with a sigh. “You said it in your sleep last night.”
The pegasus backed up a little. “You were listening to me talk in my sleep?”
“Oh c’mon! I’m not some weirdo. You started screaming about pancakes in your sleep. I came up there to bop you to sleep.”
“Bop me?!” Spitfire gasped. “What kind of pony hits another in their sleep?!”
“I didn’t. You called me mean but I just lightly rocked you back to sleep. I swear,” Limestone cried.
“You… you rocked me?!
“Don’t make it sound like that!”
“How is it supposed to sound?”
Limestone put her hoof to her head. “Look! I just did it to help you sleep. No weird stuff. I’m not like that!”
“Okay, I’ll let it slide this time,” Spitfire said, easing out of the room. “But next time you think I’m having trouble sleeping, wake me up ok?”
“Fine! Whatever! You’re taking this all the wrong way.” Limestone was getting frustrated and hungry. Why couldn’t this stupid pegasus see that she was trying to be nice? Her stomach growling interrupted any further discussion other than, “I guess I’ll make some breakfast for us, huh?”
“Oh no! You are not cooking again,” informed the uncomfortable mare. “Those pancakes nearly killed me!”
“It’s my stupid ‘cousin’ Applejack’s fault,” retorted the sulking farm pony. “I followed her recipe.”
“Applejack is your cousin?”
“Sort of. Pinkie believes it anyway. I don’t see how I could possibly be related to those apples.”
“Pinkie? As in Pinkie Pie? Wait, your last name is Pie too. Are you related to her too?”
Limestone’s eye roll nearly caused them to fall back into her head. “She’s my little sister. Duh.”
“Look, Limey, I just asked you a question,” Spitfire was in her face again. She was just begging for a mouthful of hoof. “No need to act like an ass. If Pinkie is your sister, then do you know Rainbow Dash too?”
“I can’t fucking keep track of all Pinkie’s friends. She’s friends with an entire fucking town!”
“Uh huh. So, no streamers or balloons are going to pop out of your ass, right?”
“Do I look like the type that has balloons in my ass?”
“Well, you have something shoved up there.” Spitfire said deftly. She turned to the kitchen before Limestone could retort. The nearby table took a hoof-filled comeback instead.
***
The breakfast the Captain prepared didn’t have a single rock in it. She seemed to replace the rocks with eggs. Eggs on toast. Eggs over easy. Eggs on top of eggs. How many eggs did she find?
“Eggs, huh?” It was the only thing that came to Limestone’s mind. They were simply everywhere.
“Gotta have your protein,” explained the Captain. “Nothing has protein like an egg. The more protein, the more muscle I can rebuild. Clearer skies for me.”
Limestone felt a strange, uncomfortable feeling at the idea of being alone again. The emptiness of the last time got to her. It stirred something in her soul. Luckily, the storm raged outside still so she didn’t have to worry about it.
Worry about it? What was she thinking? This was the most arrogant, bossy pegasus Limestone had ever met. She should be ecstatic to get rid of her.
She chewed the egg on her plate thoughtfully. The texture was soft and rubbery, but it wasn’t that bad.
“Wait!” cried her breakfast chef. “You’re missing the best part. I don’t normally let anypony else use this stuff, but you seem like the kind of mare that would appreciate it.”
Spitfire produced a small bottle from under her wing. How did she carry it there? The brown bottle was thrust under her nose and opened. A mixture of spices and some sort of tomato based scent tickled Limestone’s curiosity. She looked at the label.
“Hoofbasco sauce?”
“Yup! Hope you like some heat, Limey,” Spitfire said with a wink.
“Don’t call me that,” the farm pony said with the heat she was promised.
“Here you go,” the Wonderbolt snickered as she poured the thin red liquid onto the mound of eggs.
Limestone cautiously sniffed again, but the spices remained the same. She watched as the Captain slathered it onto her own breakfast and ravenously devoured an entire egg in one bite.
The farm pony wasn’t going to let this pegasus get the better of her. She was just as bold. The egg yolk popped in her mouth and was accompanied by a new sweet flavor. It was pretty good.
Until it changed completely on her. Any further flavor was lost as the top of her mouth, her tongue, and her throat caught on fire. It was like licking a flame. It hurt. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to show any weakness.
“You like it, Limey?” snarked Spitfire with a chuckle.
“Yes!” screamed the writhing earth pony. “Give me more!” There was no way she was going to lose here. The Captain was barely breaking a sweat.
“Your face is pretty red, you sure?”
“Just give me the hot stuff!”
“Okay, miss hot stuff, ” Spitfire said with a smirk as she slathered Limestone’s eggs with a huge helping. Limestone immediately tried to wolf it down. The faster she ate, the less burn she’d have to endure. She thought.
She was wrong. The huge mouthful combusted in her throat and she could feel the surface of her tongue melt away.
“Ha ha ha,” Spitfire laughed. “Your-your face looks like it’s going to melt off!” She continued to laugh until tears streamed from her eyes.
The pain in her mouth kept Limestone from lunging over the table at her. The only thing that kept all the food in her belly at all was pure stubbornness. She tried to glare at her combatant, but the tears in her own eyes made look more like a sad puppy.
“You okay, Hot Stuff ?” the Captain snickered.
“Why do you keep calling me names?” demanded the hoarse-voiced pony.
“It’s what we do in the Wonderbolts. It promotes camaraderie and makes them feel special. No pony else calls them those names, so it’s just an us thing. You get it, Hot Stuff?”
“Now it just sounds like you're hitting on me,” retorted Limestone.
“So what if I am?” Spitfire said with a completely straight face. The air became pregnant with hesitation. Limestone waited uneasily to see if the Captain was bluffing.
“Relax, Hot Stuff, I’m just busting your flank,” chortled Spitfire.
“Well, I don’t like my flank busted,” Limestone croaked.
“You better get used to it, because that’s my job, and I’m really good at it. And until this storm lets up, we are stuck here.”
Limestone looked through the cracks in the shudders. The storm seemed to have no desire to let up. It just swirled dust around like a snow globe being shaken.
“Why haven’t your Wonderbolts stopped it yet?” whined the agitated farm pony.
“We tried. This storm didn’t react the way normal storms would,” Spitfire explained. “It should have blown out by now. Usually a storm needs to move to keep the energy it has, otherwise it just balances itself out. This one is staying put.”
“So it’s not normal? What is it, then?”
“Probably magic.”
“Magic,” snorted Limestone. “Why would our farm be under attack by magic?”
“It might not be an attack. Sometimes magic wells up in a place and just causes havoc. It happens a lot over the Everfree Forest, but I don’t know enough about that stuff to tell you why it’s here.”
“Well, this fucking sucks,” the earth pony said with a huff. “I have chores to do. Those rocks aren’t going to turn themselves.”
“This is a rock farm?” gasped Spitfire. “How do you grow rocks?”
“We don’t grow rocks, we grow crystals inside the rocks,” said Limestone as she turned from the window. She knew the south field’s bounty still remained out there. She could lose them all if this storm didn’t let up soon. Pa would be disappointed.
Pa, Ma, Marble, Pinkie, Maud. What was happening to them? Were they out there in this? Were they okay? It was the first time in a long time Limestone felt for her family. She shuddered to think of them being stripped by the winds.
“You alright? You look kind of pale.”
“Just worried about my family,” the farm pony said without thinking. It seemed like a natural thing to admit but the words seemed so odd to spit out.
“Your family? Pinkie? Isn’t she in Ponyville?”
“I have more family than just Pinkie! My Pa and Ma, all my sisters and their mates are out there. Stupid tradition.”
“I’m sure they're fine. Pinkie is tough. And the storm seemed to be centered here,” the Captain assured.
“Here! On my farm? What the fuck? What sort of magic could be… Holder’s Boulder,” Limestone gasped.
She ran to the door again and opened it. She peeked through the crack she made. She saw the swirling anger of the dust and wind spinning like a mad mare. The focal point was her boulder.
“What the...?” She spun on Spitfire. “This is your fault! You cracked it!”
“The storm started before it cracked! I cracked it because of the storm,” pointed out the Captain. “What kind of stone is it, anyway? Why is it so important to you?”
“You wouldn’t understand, Captain Ass,” Limestone spat. “You’re surrounded with fans, cadets, and your Wonderbolt friends. You don’t know what it is like to be...”
“Lonely?” suggested the pegasus. “Of course I’ve been lonely. I practice flying constantly, and not everypony can keep up. While the other foals were playing games, I was training. But that’s what got me to where I am. Sure, I look back at all the fun they had, and the boyfriends and girlfriends I missed, but that can be the price of success.
“Of course, now I worry. I’m getting older, and I can’t keep this up forever. I just broke my wing. I’ll be out for months. I’m not looking forward to hanging out at home by myself for that long.”
“Empty house? Aren’t you dating Rainbow Dash or whatever her name is?”
“Crash?! No, no, no. I don’t date subordinates, and I think she’s with your cousin, anyway.”
“Applejack?” Limestone sighed. Even cousins were finding other ponies. It just didn’t seem fair.
“Yeah. So I’m not dating anypony right now. Fuck, I don’t even know where I would start with that. But what does any of that have to do with that boulder?”
“Because… it’s my… my best friend,” the red-face pony hissed and hid her face behind the curtain of mane.
“Your… best… friend,” echoed Spitfire with that strange expression she had adopted earlier.
“Fine! Mock me! But that boulder has been there for me when everypony else wasn’t. It doesn’t care about my attitude, or whether I have a special somepony, or whatever. It’s just there!”
“Who cares if you have a special somepony?”
“My family! They’re not here because they’re out doing some stupid Choosing Stone tradition with my sisters,” Limestone said while she slammed the table with her hoof. “They left me here because I didn’t have anypony!”
“Really? That’s harsh. My family’s always on me to find somepony lately, too. ‘You’re not getting any younger.’ ‘Your sister already found a mate and she’s younger than you,” Spitfire complained.
Limestone couldn’t help but notice how similar the sound was to her own mother.
“All my sisters are younger,” she replied, “and they all found somepony. Even Marble, and she barely fucking talks.”
“How many sisters do you have?” asked Spitfire with a raised eyebrow.
“Three. Maud, Pinkie and Marble. Pinkie and Marble are twins.”
“It’s hard to imagine anypony related to Pinkie not talking. Especially her twin,” snickered the Wonderbolt. “So I understand that families can put a lot of pressure on a pony to find somepony, but is that what you want?”
Limestone froze. She hadn’t thought about what she wanted. Normally, she just wanted what her family wanted. Though, lately, she’d felt the need to fight it; to show they didn’t control her.
She looked around the house, wondering what she truly wanted. The chair in the corner of the living room reminded her of yesterday.
“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I don’t like the feeling of being tied down, but I’m in charge of the farm. I give it my all here. So I guess I kind of am tied down. I don’t like being by myself though. It just feels like nopony cares.”
“So we’re in the same place,” Spitfire said with a hoof to her mouth in thought. “Maybe your rock brought us together to help each other out.”
“Holder’s Boulder is not a rock! And who says it called you here?”
“Umm… a big sand storm that won’t leave?” reminded Spitfire. “And I was thrown right into it while my team got away.”
“But...” Limestone tried to retort but nothing came out. She had a hard time accepting that the boulder was capable of something like this. She used to pretend that it could—that it was so much more than just a large stone that represented their family’s farm. That it had abilities, and actually listened to what she was saying. If Spitfire was right, that actually could be true. Now the thought made her nervous. How often had she shouted, bucked at, and struck that stone? What could it have done to her?
“It doesn’t really matter whether the ro… boulder did it,” Spitfire said offhandedly. “The point is, you and I are stuck here, and we both seem to have the same problem. Perhaps we can help each other out.”
“How are we going to find a special somepony here?”
“Not find one. Train to find one,” the batshit pegasus explained. “Look, both of us are looking, but we don’t know what to do. “
“Who says I’m looking?”
“You just said you don’t want to be lonely. This farm isn’t exactly filled with prospects, so you’re going to have to find somepony outside of it. Same with me. I won’t date Wonderbolts, and every other pony around sees me as more of an athlete than a date. I don’t think I could date a fan, anyway. It’s too weird. So we have to work on ways to find dates and, I don’t know… bag them?”
“So we’re just going to fumble around here trying to figure this out with no idea what we’re doing?” Limestone deftly pointed out. Spitfire wanted to train for dating? What sort of pony does that?
“I’m sure we could figure this out. How hard could it be? You said your sister who doesn’t talk did it.”
“She just found some weirdo that doesn’t talk either.”
“So how did she do it?” asked Spitfire earnestly.
“Lots and lots of cider, apparently. She won’t say much about that night but I saw them together with quite a few drinks,” the farm pony said in contempt. The night still boiled her blood.
“That sounds like cheating. I’m surprised they’re still together if that’s how they started. I want to find someone more conventionally, I think. What is a good way?”
“Oh shit!”
“What?!”
“Pinkie gave me that fucking book on dating,” Limestone sighed. “I refuse to read it. It just seems...pathetic.”
“Well what are you waiting for, Hot Stuff? Get that book! Get the lead out!”
That stalled all the mare’s forward motion. “Excuse me?! Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
“We’re back to this shit again,” Spitfire said with a snap of her head. “Listen. I don’t know the first thing about this stuff. But I know training. Things have to be done fast, and with as much precision as possible.”
“So your plan is to order the pony you’re interested in to date you?”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“You mean rather than demanding others go out with you? Or training for… this.” Limestone could feel her body shaking again. It was always ready to lash out. She made a valiant effort to restrain it.
“That’s it! Down and give me twenty!”
“What in the fuck do you think—”
Spitfire squinted at her like she had probably hundreds of cadets. There was little room to argue in that stare—the blaze in the captain’s eye matched Limestone’s own.
A few moments later she found herself doing pushups. It wasn’t hard; she was a strong pony. Still, it felt humiliating to give in.
“Now, this is the first part of our training,” the captain informed her. “You were seconds away from decking me for throwing ideas around. How many ponies are going to tolerate that? You want a nice special somepony, you have to work that anger off. Every time you want to hit me, I want you doing this instead. Burn it off. Then think about what you’re really mad at. Is it worth hurting another pony?”
Limestone’s brain was fuming. Each stupid word this pegasus said made her want to strike her more. She took that feeling and pushed into her hooves. With each thrust it became less and less difficult to maintain control. After about a hundred, Limestone finally stopped.
“Feel better?” the Captain asked, still standing over her.
Limestone said nothing. She marched out of the kitchen and went to her room. She opened the door and nearly screamed in fury. Her bed was in disarray and covered in yellow feathers. How could a pegasus lose that many feathers in a single night and still have any left?
She turned to chew out her guest when she saw that fucking quilt again. Fuck! Why was this happening? Why couldn’t she just release her fury on that pegasus and be done with it?
The floorboards groaned under Limestone’s hooves as she polished off another set of 30 push ups. She did a push up for each infuriating feather she saw on her bed, then one more ‘cause fuck it. A wobbliness started to affect her limbs. She grabbed the offensively pink book with her teeth and returned to the annoying Wonderbolt in the kitchen, who was making a flowchart or some shit.
“Okay,” Spitfire began as she entered, “since you took so long I started to write out the mission’s objective. It’s deceptive in its simplicity. For instance, ‘getting dates’ doesn’t really mean any date; it means an enjoyable date. We could easily just find some mooks to take us out, but it would probably end in disaster.”
“Like those dates Pinkie set me up on.”
“You’re been on dates?”
“You haven’t?”
Spitfire actually reddened when confronted. “I told you I didn’t have the time! That’s why I don’t know what to do!”
“Sorry. I just thought the head of the illustrious Wonderbolts would have some experience.”
“Fine, fine! You’re hardly the only one to think that. But it’s true: I have no experience at all,” the Wonderbolt admitted.
“So you’re a cherry mare,” snickered Limestone.
“What? Hey! You’re telling me you’ve had experience ?!”
“Maybe.” She didn’t, but Spitfire’s cherry-red face was too good to pass up.
“Come on,” the red-faced pony commanded, “spill it. I want to know.”
“Sorry, Cherry Mare, I’m not really the sharing type.” Her smile couldn’t be wider. She had this flank busting thing down.
“Well, at least the nickname isn’t that insulting. So, uh, there are two approaches I can think of. One: date as many ponies as possible until we find the right matches. Or two: We narrow down the playing field by finding out what we want in a mate.”
“What I want?” There it was again. The concept of her “wants” was so foreign that it seemed like an elusive mystery. All she had found of life so far was what she didn’t want. She had no idea what she wanted.
“Well, let’s start with something simple. Stallion or mare?”
The question hit Limestone like a bolt of lightning. She had never considered it an option. Mares had stallions, right? But then, her own sister had shown her that wasn’t true. Could she date a mare? It sounded so much easier than dating a stallion. Stallions were so focused on how strong she was, and how they had to get stronger to match her. A mare, on the other hoof, sounded much more comfortable, but would they be strong enough to handle her?
“Umm… this was supposed to be the easy part,” Spitfire sighed. “I guess you’re still finding out about yourself. No biggie. It takes a while to figure out what you like. Heck, you don’t even have to choose if you don’t want to. For some ponies it’s just about the pony, not the gender.”
“What about you?” the embarrassed farm pony spat.
“I’ve already given this great thought, and I love mares. With a few exceptions,” the Captain folded her forehooves across her chest in pride.
“So it doesn’t have to be one or the other?”
“Nope.”
“I guess as long as they’re strong enough, that doesn’t matter,” Limestone said with a defiant face. If Spitfire could choose both, then so could she. After all, it should be about the pony.
“Into strong ponies, huh?”
“Well, not necessarily, but they need to be. I keep nearly crushing most of them. I don’t want some delicate flower that I have to worry about just giving them a hug or something. If they can’t handle that, they sure can’t handle the real stuff.”
Spitfire looked at her in thought. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll put that down for me too.”
Limestone couldn’t stop the snort that followed that statement. She was a pegasus talking about being strong.
“Excuse me?!” the pegasus asked with an eyebrow raise. “You have something to say, Hot Stuff?”
“Oh c’mon,” the farm pony finally blurted. “Sure you look tough, but you're a pegasus. You're light and fluffy from flying around. I break rocks for a living.”
“Flying around takes a lot more work than you know. I break storms for a living, for fuck’s sake.”
“Alright, Cherry Mare, let’s put this to the test!” A farm hoof was raised and placed on the table. The gauntlet had been thrown. That cocky smile returned as she waited.
“You’re on, Hot Stuff!” Spitfire answered with a hoof placed next to her combatant.
The hoofs interlocked and the battle began. Tendons and muscles bulged on both forehooves. Teeth clenched. Shoulders hardened. Eyes blazed. The ball of conflict didn’t move. It stayed suspended in the air and shook slightly. Perspiration had started to drip down on both of their foreheads. Limestone had never been stopped like this. The fire within her blazed in agony. This mare had to go down. But the hoof wasn’t moving. The papers on the table wrinkled and scattered.
Seconds turned to minutes. Finally the strain was too much for either of them and they both collapsed. “That’s… that’s… never happened to me… before,” puffed the farm mare.
“Me… either,” the pegasus panted.
“It’s probably because I just did a million push ups.”
“Yeah, well I must be sore from my crash. We’ll try this again tomorrow. First thing. That way, we’re both at our best. Now, let’s take a look at this book.”
Spitfire grabbed the book with her other hoof and began to look through it. She squinted at it and looked a little uncomfortable. “Uhhh, you never opened this book have you?”
“Fuck no. I’m not going to look through something like that.”
“It’s rather specific. It’s very… Pinkie.”
Limestone buried her head in hooves. It was so embarrassing. She was sitting across from another tough mare and looking at some stupid book in dating. How did it come to this?
“What, is it filled with balloons or something?”
“No, I mean she wrote it.”
“What?!” The earth mare was instantly up on her hooves and looking over Spitfire’s shoulder. The book had been hoof-written; it was specifically written for her.
“Your sister really did a lot of work,” Spitfire said as she flipped through. She suddenly gasped. “No way!”
“What?!”
“It’s-it’s a training manual,”said the pegasus, opening the book wider so Limestone could see. “It has an entire training routine all worked out for you. It says ‘for you and a friend.’ This is exactly what we need.”
“Well it is Pinkie. This is the kind of thing she does.”
“What do you mean?” asked Spitfire as she skimmed through the book.
“Pick a random page and stop,” commanded Limestone with a sigh.
The Captain stared at her a bit but did as instructed. She riffled through the book and picked a page closer to the back.
“Now read it.”
The pegasus began to read,``Now you and your friend, start at the beginning of the book and DON’T SKIP AHEAD!”
“Huh? How could she have known?” Spitfire mused to herself. She quickly skimmed the book back to the beginning to make sure the party pony didn’t write on it every page. She didn’t.
“Pinkie sense,” Limestone said with a slight nod and stood still.
“You say that like I should know what it is.”
“Fine,” said the farm pony with an eye roll. “Pinkie has a sense that can tell her before things happen. All of us Pies have senses (find that thing and change it).”
Spitfire’s eyes became two thin slits. “Sooo, you can sense the future?”
“No, that's Pinkie sense. The rest of us have different senses.”
“So what are the other ones?”
“Maud has Maud sense, which means she can find anything she puts her mind to. Marble has the ability to talk into your mind. She only does it with us Pies usually, but apparently she can do it with Vinyl, too.”
“And you?”
“I”, Limestone looked away. She was feeling very exposed all of a sudden. She hated that. “I don’t use mine anymore. So, what does the book say to start with?”
Limestone’s tone completely shifted and she sat next to Spitfire once again with an eager expression on her face. The pegasus opened her mouth and shut it again then shrugged.
“Congratulations ,” the Captain read. “You have found a friend to help with finding a special somepony. Please don’t use Marble for this. Though I know you won’t.”
“Why would I use Marble? She’s my sister!” cried an exasperated Limestone. She was tired of comments like this. She heard the whispers in town when she and her sister went shopping. It made her slam the table with her hoof.
“Hot Stuff, more push ups.”
“I’m fine! I’m fine. Just, everypony has the wrong idea about us. It’s infuriating.”
“Well, I don’t,” declared Spitfire. “So drop the rest of it. Now, can we start this training?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
The pegasus started from where she left off. “You and your friend will go through exercises to train you for a real date. Remember, this is your friend, so there is no need to be nervous. Start by thinking of your perfect special somepony .”
Spitfire put the book down and closed her eyes. Limestone watched but then a sideways glare was all she saw. “Come on, friend , this is the only connection we seem to have. You think it’s a coincidence that your boulder brought me here right after your family left you for not having a special somepony? I’m here to train with you. Or do you have other friends?”
Limestone closed her eyes. She pictured a strong stallion. The kind on the covers of those trashy romance books Marble used to read. She pictured his mane blowing in the wind. The white tussled shirt with a button open. That perfect cheesy smile. Then Limestone pictured her hoof sailing into that stupid smug face of his. The look of shock and confusion that would set in. How dare he look at her like he’s Celestia’s gift to ponies!
“Umm, Hot Stuff?”
Limestone’s eyes popped open. She looked at the concerned pegasus who pointed at the table. Under her hoof was a fresh dent.
“Sounds like you didn’t really get the idea on this one. Why don’t we return to traits? You said ‘strong’ so what else?”
“Well I don’t want anypony that takes shit. Those types of ponies that just get pushed around piss me off.”
Spitfire stared at her blankly. The pencil remained still in her hoof. What the fuck was that look for? Nothing was more aggravating than watching some pony just lay over and take whatever shit other ponies dish out.
“And I don’t want them to give me shit either,” Limestone added with a head nod.
“Okay, you know who you are, right?” sighed Spitfire as she put down the pencil.
“What?”
“Well, if they can’t take shit, how are they going to talk to you at all? You’ve done nothing but give me shit since I got here. And if they don’t take your shit, they probably will be the type that will give it right back. So I don’t think this pony you're looking for exists,” Spitfire said, crossing her forelegs in a self satisfied manner.
“I won’t take anypony’s shit,” Limestone stated as if it was a law of her universe. “Especially if it’s a mate.”
“You’re going to have to do something. This nonshit-taking, nonshit-giving pony’s going to be near impossible to find.”
“Fine… I’ll try to take a reasonable amount of shit if I end up giving it.” Did she just concede a point again? That lonely day must have taken its toll on her.
“As you said earlier, you’re older than I am,” Spitfire sat back in her chair with a business-like look on her face. Was this training or was she being demoted? We can’t afford to be too choosy now. That being said, what about foals?”
“Foals?!”
“Do you want them? Do you care if the other pony has them already?”
“I never even thought about it.” The wide-eye mare admitted. Why did this have to be so complicated? What was wrong with just I like you, you like me, let’s go out? “How about you?”
“I like mares and I make my living as an athlete. One foal will turn my body to shit.”
“But aren’t there spells? For mare couples, I mean?”
“Yeah, but they aren’t as effective and have a lot of problems. But it is possible,” sighed the Captain. She placed her hoof to her forehead. “I think we’re getting off track. We should be focusing on dating first. That other stuff will come in time.”
“You’re the one that brought it up,” whined Limestone. Foals, special spells, worrying about ruining her body with pregnancy? This felt too overwhelming. No wonder why she never made it through dates. Crushing rocks was so much easier.
Spitfire ignored the farm mare’s comment and turned the page. “Finally,” she sighed, skimming the page. “How to ask out a special somepony. Special someponies can be anyone. So be careful. They can jump on you when you least expect it. Even the pony sitting across from you could be a special somepony in disguise. So you have to know what to do when one jumps out at you.”
“What in the heck is she talking about?” cried the pegasus in disbelief. “I don’t think this is how this works at all.”
“It’s just Pinkie’s way of thought. Her advice is usually pretty good,” sighed Limestone.
Spitfire snorted. “It’s all we have,” reminded the farm pony. The reading began again. “The basics of asking a pony out are simple: Be yourself. Don’t use cheesy lines unless you are cheesy. Don’t use corny lines unless you’re corny. You get the idea. You should probably just punch them because you’re punchy. NO, WAIT, DON’T DO THAT!”
“Your sister knows you well,” commented the highly critical insufferable “friend”. The pressure was building in Limestone’s hoof again.
“Push ups!”
A grumbling mare listened while her face moved closer then further away from the ground. “Sounds like we should practice this,” Spitfire informed her from above. “I think we should ask each other out.”
“What?!” The cry was followed by a crash as Limestone’s body struck the floor.
“We have to ask each other out. To practice. What’s the big deal? We’re training.”
“We can’t just ask each other like that? It sounds… lame.”
The Wonderbolt placed her hoof to her head once again. The move started to grate at Limestone. It made her feel stupid or difficult or something. She opened her mouth to tell the prissy pegasus off but closed it again.
“What are you going to say when the time is right? You need to think ahead here, Hot Stuff,” chided the Captain with a shake of her hoof. “Now get up here and ask me out already.”
Limestone sat across from her and took a big breath. She looked at the smug, demanding face of the Captain, who crossed her hooves and waited. She could feel redness fill her cheeks but shook it away.
“Go out with me.”
Spitfire sat there looking at her as if considering the offer. She looked at the ceiling mulling the prospect over. Finally she looked back at her “suitor”
“Are you demanding me to go out with you or are you asking?” The response finally came.
“Well, would you turn me down?”
The question caused Spitfire to redden. “That’s not what we’re talking about here. You’re supposed to ask a question, not just demand some pony to date you.”
“Fine, Cherry Mare, if you’re so great, you ask me out.”
Spitfire stared. She placed a hoof to her chin and looked at the ground. Then looked right into Limestone’s eyes. “Is Tuesday a good day for us to go out together?”
“I don’t know. What day is it now?” Limestone cried, throwing her hooves in the air.
“It doesn’t matter what day it is. It was just an example.”
“Wait, that was you asking me out? That sounded just as demanding. I thought you were still talking about me asking you out!”
Spitfire reddened. “Are you saying you were asking me out for real?! This is training.”
“Fine. I will do this the right way. For training.” Limestone knew how to do this. She secretly read those lame books Marble brought home. Just to make sure her sister wasn’t getting funny ideas about things. She would never admit that to some self-important pegasus.
She took a deep breath and reached out with hooves and placed them on Spitfire’s. They were much softer than they seemed during the hoof wrestling match. Spitfire blushed but didn’t back down. Limestone turned her head as she saw Marble do hundreds of times so that her mane blocked her face. She could feel the redness burn her cheeks but knew it was part of the look she was going for. In a shy soft voice she asked, “would you like to go out with me?”
“Yes,” came the immediate response. “I mean, um, yes, that’s the way you should do it.”
Limestone turned her head quickly and caught that Spitfire was staring red faced at the ground. She almost forgot that she was still holding the Captain’s hooves. She slowly slid her own hooves off. There was a lot of resistance to that movement, like trying to get out of the covers in the morning.
“Now you try,” coaxed the farm pony. She wondered why her hooves still felt warm and why she looked forward to this attempt with such eagerness. Because she wanted to win. That had to be it.
“I… I need a break,” Spitfire said in a dejected voice.
“What? What’s the matter?”
Spitfire didn’t answer. She left the dining room and entered the living room. Limestone watched with eyebrow raised and then could have sworn she heard grunts and huffs coming from there.
Chapter 6: Things Heat Up
Limestone shrugged and picked up Pinkie’s book. She glanced at the next two sections. One was on the date itself, the other was on kissing. Kissing?! What the fuck was her sister doing with those friends of hers?! Did she honestly expect her to do something like that? She doubted Spitfire would even consent.
The mare must have Marble’s telepathy because she appeared in the doorway while Limestone quickly shut the book. She was coated in sweat. It made her glisten and her muscles stood out in appealing ways. Limestone couldn’t help but stare and be impressed. Then shook her head and refocused. How would she even bring up kissing for training?
Spitfire flopped in her seat across the table. She was still breathing heavily from whatever it was she’d done. “Ok,” she huffed, “here goes.”
The mare stared at Limestone with a soft gaze. It was determined but uncertain. There was a slight quiver in her voice as she spoke. Nerves or exhaustion, Limestone couldn’t decide. Spitfire tentatively reached a hoof out but withdrew it again.
“Look,” the pegasus finally said, “we haven’t known each other for a long time, but there is a connection. Life is too short to ignore it. It might hurt us both in the end but if it doesn’t it could be the best thing to ever happen to us. I know I would kick myself if I passed up a chance like that. But it would take us both to really make it work. What do you say? Do you want to give it a shot?”
Limestone’s mouth dropped. Then closed.Then she leaned back in her seat in thought. The Captain leaned in face full of focus. She owed it an answer. She looked down at that ground. “I guess when you put it that way, I’d be stupid to say ‘no’. I mean you’re not that bad looking actually, and we could work through our conflicts, I guess. I could compromise more.”
“What?” Spitfire said with pure confusion. “What kind of critique is that?!”
“That was for training?!”
“Of course it was! We’re practicing! Practicing. And what do you mean not that bad looking?”
Limestone turned more red than she ever had in her life. She had been tricked. There was no way to back out. But her anger flooded her brain. “I mean you’re not uglier than a tatzlwurm!”
“Your standard is a tatzlwurm?!” Spitfire just shook her head.
“What?! No! Let’s just move on.” Then she remembered what the next lessons would bring. This obnoxious pegasus didn’t deserve a kiss from her. She deserved to kiss her ass. But then that brought up even worse sounding implications. She collapsed in a confused, frustrated heap.
“Uhhh, right,” Spitfire said but Limestone swore there was a hint of amusement in that comment. “So, the book says the next thing is to picture where you would take your date... that’s a tough one. Movies? Dinner?”
“Yeah, that’s a great way to get to know somepony,” snarked the deflated pile of red.
“It’s to build a bond.”
“Or put me to sleep. You need something exciting to happen! Something, you know, something kick-ass. If you can kick another pony’s flank in the process, then it’s much better.”
Spitfire placed her hoof to her forehead. A large sigh escaped her. “A fight is not a date. You shouldn’t be trying to hurt other ponies anyway. But… you might be right about the ‘standard’ options. I could take them to the Wonderbolt headquarters, but it’s embarrassing to go on a date in front of your squad. Picnic? Hiking? Rock climbing?”
“Hoof boxing? Karate match? Arcade?”
“Arcade? What are you, twelve?” the captain sneered, and tried to think.
Limestone finally lifted her head. Why would the pegasus be so hell bent on something she would want? If Spitfire wanted to take her date to some lame hiking trip, let her. The farm pony would rather go to a…
“Metal concert!” The mares cried in unison. They gasped at each other.
“You like metal?” cried Limestone. How could a wimpy pegasus love the music of the rock gods themselves? Was she tougher than the farm pony had thought? Time to find out. “Which bands?”
“Iron Mare Den, Rwar, Ram Sty,” Spitfire rattled off.
“How about Wɥeat, or Maretailica?”
“They’re good but my favorite is Pontera.”
“No way! I love Pontera!” Limestone shouted, climbing out of her chair. “I have all their albums! I haven’t seen them in concert yet.”
“I’ve seen them three times,” the Captain said, hopping out of her chair. “My ears rang for three days each time. Made it hard to do dives and spirals like that. If you want, I could hook you up with tickets.”
“You’re kidding! That would kick ass! You have to come. I want to see that soft flank of yours in the pit.” A wicked grin spread across the sadistic pony’s face.
“Umm, you know, it’s hard to tell if this is a friendly thing or if you really want to hurt me.”
“I’m just making sure you’re tough enough.”
“Tough enough for what?”
“To be my—” Limestone stopped. What was she testing Spitfire for? A friend? A special somepony? Was she actually considering it? “—friend,” she said definitively. She was just thinking friend, wasn’t she?
“Alright, Hot Stuff, but wait until my wing heals, ok?”
Limestone nodded and made her way to her phonograph and record collection. Her movements were fast and erratic; she hoped Spitfire wouldn’t notice. Limestone quickly found her favorite Pontera album and slid the well-loved vinyl from its sleeve. She placed the record on, and was rewarded with jarring guitar and double kicking bass drum. The singer screamed like a demon.
“Ahh, this is a good album,” Spitfire stated as she appeared next to her by the record stack. The pegasus beamed with the unfiltered pride of a true metal connoisseur as she admired Limestone’s collection—it was about time there was a pony cultured enough to appreciate it. Limestone was pleased to note a few eyebrow raises as the pegasus leafed through the tattered sleeves. The yellow hoof suddenly stopped when it came to a dark purple spine. It moved with unnatural speed and pulled the album out. Limestone’s face fell
“Raspontina?” read the much-too-knowledgeable Captain. “This is goth, isn’t it? Did somepony go through a goth phase?”
“That must be Maud’s,” whined Limestone, though the tell tale glow on her face told otherwise. She watched in horror as the pegasus opened the sleeve, and bit her lower lip. Spitfire’s face ballooned out and her eyes started to water.
“What?!” spat the glowering Limestone.
“Just Maud, huh? What about this picture, Hot Stuff?” Spitfire pulled a picture that should have been burned along with that record. It clearly showed Limestone and Maud in the goth clothing they used to wear in highschool. She cringed as she remembered the hours they spent each morning putting on their makeup. She could still feel the tightness of the fishnet stockings she used to wear.
“You look kind of hot,” admitted the cheeky pegasus, in between snickers. “You still have those socks?”
“Shut up!”
“Heh. Now ‘Hot Stuff’ has a whole new meaning!”
“Shut up!” Limestone shouted as she stormed out of the living room. She roughly pushed a chair over.
“Relax, Limestone,” Spitfire called from the other room. “I’m not going to tell any pony. I am your… friend, after all.”
Limestone stared at the infernal book on the dining room table. She knew what was next. But Spitfire’s smug face was something to punch, not kiss—it laughed at her. It mocked her with its soft features and cute smile.
“Hey, we all did dumb things in highschool,” Spitfire reasoned. “I’m sure we’re doing dumb things now. Just have to let it go.”
The earth pony grumbled and crossed her forehooves. Like it was that easy. If she could do that she would have done it.
“So let’s take a look at what’s next,” Spitfire said and reached for the guide. She stuffed something behind her wing.
“I already did,” sighed Limestone. “It’s kissing.”
“Kissing?!”
“Yup,” she responded flatly. Let’s see how this annoying pony deals with this! A sadistic smile crossed her face as she realized how much Spitfire would squirm. She looked at her “friend” and was surprised to see a small smile on the other pony’s face, too. It passed so quickly that she wondered if she imagined it.
“That’s… a bit much, isn’t it? To do with a friend,” the pegasus wondered out loud. “Is that what Pinkie did with her friends?”
Limestone shrugged. But this was another challenge that she wasn’t going to back away from. Feelings be damned. This was war. She was still sore from falling for the asking-out ploy.
“And you’re ok with—“ Spitfire’s question froze on her lips. “You’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?”
“What?! What makes you say that?”
“You’re grinning from ear to ear. I didn’t know you wanted to kiss me that badly.”
Limestone’s face dropped. She didn’t think of it that way, and the Wonderbolt seemed much more comfortable than she hoped. Excited even. Was she looking forward to it?
“Well,” the grinning pegasus said. “I guess I am more your type than I thought. But I wouldn’t kiss on the first date.“
“Who says we’re dating?”
“A smiling pony who wants me to kiss her. And don’t think I forgot how you answered when I practiced asking you out.” Spitfire’s eyes burned with a fire that was different than before. Limestone started to feel color in her face. The pegasus was getting closer. Limestone slowly backed up. Her face filled with fear.
No, she was Limestone Pie! Nothing could defeat her: not a storm, a pegasus, or a ridiculous book, and certainly not a stupid kiss. If Spitfire wanted a kiss, then she was going to give one that the Wonderbolt captain would never forget.
She took a step forward and defiantly met Spitfire’s burning gaze. The Wonderbolt didn’t back down, but instead took another step towards her. It was the longest few seconds of Limestone’s life, but finally, they were only inches from each other. Each was silently daring the other to back down.
Their muzzles moved towards one another. Their eyes searched for any hint that the other was chickening out. Neither did.
Limestone opened her mouth and Spitfire mirrored her. Sweat began to form on her brow. The pegasus wasn’t stopping. This was really going to happen. Why was she so excited about it? It was that stupid pegasus. Limestone could feel her body flooding with adrenaline.
Their lips met, and Limestone felt that fire move from Spitfire’s eyes through her entire body.It was strong and powerful. Limestone felt a shift in her. A need she never knew she had was being fulfilled—she was finally getting something she’d never admitted she wanted.
She felt again. She could feel her own excitement. And she felt Spitfire’s want, but it was mixed with uncertainty. She blocked out both sensations and focused on her normal defense: making ponies feel uncomfortable.
Limestone opened her eyes. She saw the bright yellow eyelids of her kissing partner. It was time to push. She turned her head and slowly opened her mouth.
Spitfire’s eyes popped open, then narrowed in annoyance. She knew exactly what the farm pony was doing, and met her challenge.
Limestone felt a tongue slide into her mouth, and she nearly shut it in surprise; but the mare would not be defeated. She stretched her tongue into the Wonderbolt’s mouth and matched the other tongue’s movements.
A tongue battle began as they wrapped and slithered around each other. It was a sensation that Limestone couldn’t get enough of. Her spine spasmed in pleasure. Her mind whirled with possibilities. It made her uncomfortable—she wasn’t used to fighting urges like these. Her hoof moved itself to wrap around the back of Spitfire’s neck but was stopped as her companion broke the connection.
“Okay. I-I think that’s enough practice for now,” gasped the pegasus. Their muzzles were still inches apart. Their breaths still mingled and danced with each other. “We don’t want to take this too far… do we?”
Limestone looked at her. Spitfire’s face was flushed, and her breathing was heavy. She looked up at Limestone through half-closed eyes. The captain’s muscles twitched and her tail swished back and forth. This was not good; they were just training. Right? Just training.
The ponies drifted slowly away from each other. What was Pinkie thinking, writing that crap? This wasn’t being friendly, this was pushing a boundary that Limestone hadn’t explored yet. She sat down at the table and panted a bit.
“Well… I think we finished that section,” Spitfire huffed. “I’m afraid to see what’s next.”
Her unbroken wing reached across the table and swept the book towards her. She opened it and skimmed through the pages they already read. She stopped at the kissing section.
“Kissing is definitely a part of dating ,” Spitfire read. “But you shouldn’t… practice this… with a friend.” The pegasus trailed off and glared at Limestone. “So it was a ploy?”
“No! I just read the title!”
Spitfire placed her hoof to her forehead and blushed. “Well, this is a disaster. I don’t know what we can do about it now.”
“It’s by Pinkie,” Limestone reminded her. “She would have thought of something.”
A glance from the distraught captain told Limestone something was bothering the pegasus. She could feel it. Her “sense” was creeping back. Limestone could feel others pain like she used to. She had to stop it somehow. Maybe if she helped this mare.
“What’s wrong?” Limestone found herself saying.
“Mmm? Oh, um, nothing. It’s just… worrisome,” the Captain sighed. “This felt right. I thought that if we figured out this dating thing, the storm would at least slow down, but it’s still raging out there.”
Limestone glanced out the window. Holder’s Boulder was glowing brightly enough to be clearly visible through the layers of sand. She stared at her “old friend” in confusion and embarrassment. What was it trying to do? Was all this really because of her?
“Is there anything else we could think of besides this?” the earth pony asked. “Are you sure it’s about dating?”
Spitfire nodded. “It feels right. I can’t explain it but it feels like we have to resolve this. ”
“How? Do we need to finish the book or something?”
“It’s a start, unless you have any other ideas?” The pegasus’s face was serious. She raised an eyebrow and waited. Limestone could feel her expecting something. Hoping for something.
“We should continue,” Limestone finally said. What was Spitfire hoping for? What did she want from the farm mare?
Spitfire sighed and continued reading. “Obviously it’s too late for the warning. Congratulations on your first kiss, Limestone. I know you guys are pretty tired of these lessons, so there is only one more: snuggling. This one is fine between friends. You have to get used to another pony leaning on you. both physically and emotionally. It’s really important as the relationship continues.”
“I thought this was about dating, not a full relationship,” sighed the farm mare.
“You backing out? Calling it quits?”
“Never!”
Spitfire nodded. She took a deep breath and got up. “Maybe this will work. Now, where’s the best place to cuddle? I want to feel the full experience.”
“Marble and Vinyl cuddle, like, everywhere,” moaned Limestone. Multiple images of finding them snuggling all over the house filled her mind. She tried to filter out things like the bed or anyplace else that sounded more suggestive rather than relaxing. “I think the couch is probably the most comfortable and… less likely to lead to awkward thoughts.”
“Right! To the couch!” the pegasus said and rushed to the couch that Limestone had woken up from. Limestone followed and felt a strange sense of giddiness. She’d finally get to see if snuggling was as comfortable as those two made it seem.
Spitfire sat on the couch and opened her forehooves. She casually draped a hoof along the back of the couch. Her face changed to a strange “come-hither” expression. She patted the spot on the couch in front of her. “Ready?”
“Don’t you think I should be behind you?”
“Starting that again? Fine! We’ll take turns. I’m already sitting, so I’ll go first,” the captain said defiantly. She patted the couch again. Limestone smiled and flopped on the couch into Spitfire’s chest.
“Oof!” the startled pegasus cried. It wasn’t a great start. Spitfire glared at the back of her training partner’s head, then sighed and placed her forehooves around the bulkier pony.
Limestone leaned into the soft mare. She caught a minty waft of some sort of muscle relaxant patch. Soon, those thoughts returned. She tried to get that kiss out of her head, but it felt like it was hanging there between the two of them.
Limestone had to get things back under her control. She leaned her head into the captain’s floofy yellow chest and gave an exaggerated sigh. She could almost feel the red glow from her companion. A sneer grew on her lips.
“Mmm,” she purred and rubbed her head further onto the mare’s chest. “So comfy.”
The smirk grew wider, but to her surprise, the forehooves just shifted to a more comfortable position. They tightened, holding her firmly but still gently. Her companion was either calling her bluff, or was actually enjoying it. She wouldn’t be outdone. She shifted closer and felt her haunches slide right into Spitfire’s lap. The mare behind her placed a chin on Limestone’s neck. Their faces were touching. Snuggling really was just as warm and soft as it looked.
Limestone found herself melting into the other pony’s hooves, snared by her own trap. It was so comfortable, so fulfilling. She felt warm. Wanted. It was something she had desperately sought without ever knowing it. She looked up at Spitfire’s face. The mare had her eyes closed and looked like Vinyl did when Marble curled up under her.
Limestone could feel the urge to kiss Spitfire again rise. What was wrong with her? It was just a kiss. Sure, she’d kind of enjoyed it, but it was no reason to lose her head and act all lovey-dovey. She had to stop this.
“Umm, I think it’s my turn,” the farm pony said with an extra gruffness to her voice.
“Hmmm? What? Oh yeah,” the pegasus said and lifted her head. Limestone felt the gentle weight shift off her, and the warmth with it. A yearning began immediately in her heart. It was the strangest feeling she’d ever had, but she felt better knowing the warmth would return in a few moments. That thought excited and unnerved her at the same time.
She got off the pegasus’ seat and shifted to the other side of the couch. She tried not to look too eager to open her forehooves, but her heart had started to beat faster. A hunger sought to be sated.
Spitfire got up and sat down in Limestone’s lap. There was no pretense or hesitation, she just sat her warm flanks into the awaiting seat. The farm pony would have been annoyed if she hadn’t been so eager for it.
The pegasus’s body was larger than Limestone had thought, but not so big that it was crushing her. In fact, it was almost the perfect size. She wrapped her forehooves around that body and was immediately hit with that feeling again.
Limestone felt a small part of her heart open. This was what she was looking for: this feeling. Inclusion. She tried to lay her head on Spitfire neck but found that stupid orange mane in her snout.
A snort from the cuddlee alerted Limestone that Spitfire felt the problem. The Captain shifted and suddenly things went in a whole different direction. She turned and wrapped her hooves around Limestone’s back, pressing her barrel chest into the farm pony’s. Her head pressed into the earth pony’s shoulder. It was much closer.
The intimacy was staggering. Limestone felt her face flush and her body burn. It wasn’t the kind of heat she was used to, the burning need to beat something. This fire made her feel giddy and lightheaded. She closed her eyes and rested her head on Spitfire’s shoulder. She could feel each breath the pegasus took. The breath tickled her ear on each exhale.
“This is nice,” sighed Spitfire. “I’ll have to remember to let my mane down when we do this again… uh, with other ponies, that is.”
“Nah, don’t change it,” assured Limestone, her face flushing again. “Don’t change anything about you for anypony. Especially not for love.”
“So, how long are we planning to train on this?”
“Umm, I suddenly feel the need to do more pushups. A lot more pushups,” the flustered mare said. Her body felt way too hot.
“Me too!”
The mares quickly got off the couch. “We need some music to reset the mood,” suggested Limestone, turning away from her snuggle buddy. She still felt hot. Her breathing was too fast. She needed something to bring her back to earth. “Pontera?”
“Pontera.”
The two began their sets to the music. Each push-up was exhilarating. All that cuddling stuff fell to the back of the farm pony’s mind. Each set brought renewed vigor. She glanced at her companion. The pegasus was rhythmically matching her speed. The tension, and a cold feeling hit her with a vengeance.
She had to stop thinking like this. More work, more push-ups. The physical exertion was the only thing that mattered. It cleansed the mind and sharpened the focus.
An hour later both of them were stretching and panting. It took all the awkwardness out of them. “That was just what I needed,” Limestone huffed. “I got to do this more. Do you need a workout buddy?”
“Sure, if you can keep up.”
“Oh you’re on. So the book said that was the last thing, what do we do now? It looks like the storm hasn’t stopped.”
“Well, we could look at the rest of that book, it had quite a few more pages,” Spitfire suggested, still acting odd and uncomfortable. It almost seemed like something was bugging her.
“Ok, that’s it!” Limestone cried. “What’s wrong? Tell me!”
“What do you mean?” the captain asked.
The gift was back on, and Limestone was too annoyed to turn it off. “You have something bothering you, I can feel it.”
“What kind of thing?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I asked. I can only feel emotions, not read thoughts!” The frustrated mare explained.
“Your Limey sense, huh?” Spitfire guessed. “So that’s your gift.”
“Yes! If you really want to know, I can feel everything another pony feels just by looking at them. I don’t know their thoughts, or why they feel it, but I can feel their emotions and I hate it. I willed myself to stop a long time ago. I don’t know why it’s back now.”
“That’s pretty amazing,” admitted Spitfire. “But I’m not sure what you could use it for.”
“Nothing! It wasn’t good for anything! It just made me feel all the time. It hurt. And I couldn’t stop anypony else from hurting, all I could do was hurt with them.” Limestone could feel the old fear and pain welled up so fast that she didn’t have time to catch it.
Spitfire moved the hoof from her shoulder to a true hug. It wasn’t like one of Pinkie’s overexcited, crushing hugs—this hug was soft, gentle, and supportive.
“Are you sure you want to?”
“Of course!” Limestone answered. “It’s killing me that I can feel you wanting to tell me something, and being too afraid to.” Panic filled her body—Limestone knew the panic wasn’t hers, but she had no control over it.
“You’re right… I do have something on my mind, but I don’t think you’re ready to hear it yet,” admitted Spitfire.
“Are you babying me? I’m a grown mare! Spill it.”
“Ok ok, I will! I just… need to think about how to word it, and right now my mind is kind of fried. So I’m going to hit the showers and head to bed. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.” The pegasus took off up the stairs in a flash.
“Ok,” Limestone muttered in confusion.
She had to get her powers back under control. She paced back and forth, worried that some strange thing was looming over them that wasn’t the storm. She couldn’t put her hoof on it. She didn’t even know why she cared so much. It was just a stupid pegasus wasn’t it?
No. Limestone could bullshit a lot of ponies, but not herself. She knew that this pony was special. This pony put up with all her crap. She hoped they could stay friends… no, that wasn’t right at all! She wanted them to become more than friends. She wanted Spitfire as her special somepony. She knew it, and she couldn’t go back on it now.
Limestone tried to put that feeling behind her and get some sleep, but she couldn’t seem to shut her eyes. She just laid on her lumpy couch and stared at the ceiling. Spitfire was going to wait until tomorrow to tell her what was wrong, and that was causing her brain to spasm. She wanted to know now .
Chapter 7: An unmovable object
Sleepless hours passed, and Limestone finally decided to just ask. It wasn’t fair that she had to lay there wondering all night; not when the answer was in her own bed.
Limestone climbed the steps to the next floor. She reached the top and heard some strange mumbling—Spitfire was talking in her sleep again. That gave the mare exactly the excuse she needed: The pegasus had already said to just wake her up if she started doing that again. All Limestone had to do was not let the pegasus go back to sleep until she answered the question.
That sounded right. It was justified.
Limestone opened the door to her own room and found the captain sprawled out on her bed as before. This time there was a large grin on her face, and the lighting in the room didn’t make her look cute, but beautiful. Limestone knew beyond doubt that this was the mare she wanted. But first, something had come in between them, and she needed to get it out of the way.
She crept in and received a snort and a grunt from the room’s occupant. She crept closer and words met her ear. The pegasus looked up at her with unfocused eyes as she approached.
“Why is the farm pony so dense?” the sleeping pony asked.
“What?!”
“Why can’t she see the real reason I’m here?”
Limestone took a step back in suspicion. “Why are you really here?”
“I think I’m her special somepony. But she hasn't seen it yet.”
Limestone gasped. She was the special somepony! And she knew! Why wouldn’t she say it? Why did she go through all those exercises, if she’d thought the whole time that they should be together? And why was Limestone running out of room as fast as her legs could go?
The book! Why didn’t the book say anything? Why didn’t Pinkie warn her?! Her disobedient legs took right to the table and flipped through it hurriedly. As she opened the next page a small explosion rang through her ears and echoed through the empty kitchen. Streamers and confetti rained out of the book somehow.
“Congratulations,” it read. “If you two made through this course, you are now each other’s special someponies. Surprise! You have all you need to know for a good beginning.”
Pinkie did know. Limestone backed away from the table and bumped into the wall. It was too good to be true. Too convenient. It was what Limestone wanted, and she never got what she wanted. She couldn’t trust it. It had to be a trick, a prank.
Limestone needed answers. She needed the truth. The light from Holder’s Boulder gleamed through the window. She stomped her way to the front door. Holder’s Boulder would know who it called; she had to ask it.
The storm buffeted her mane and blew it into disarray. She didn’t care. She stepped out the front door, closing it behind her. The glowing landmark lit the area so brightly that she could see clearly through the dust and darkness.
One hoof in front of the other, she plodded her way forward. The sand began to grind her skin. The wind made each step hover slightly and fall short of its intended target, but the mare pushed on. Nothing would stop her. The nicks and cuts on her hooves and flanks burned like fire. The storm growled in its fury, and Limestone growled back. Her teeth ground and her shoulder rolled forward in defiance.
The short walk seemed to take an hour. Her eyes stung from walking into the wind, but she refused to turn her head or move her gaze from the stone. Her muscles burned, and screamed at her that this was suicide. She politely told them to shut the fuck up. The stone was right there, just ten steps away. She could feel her legs beginning to buckle. The wind tore at her. A thousand cuts tore open on her flanks. Her teeth felt polished by the grit, and she couldn’t breathe through her sand-caked snout.
Holder’s Boulder had been a friend to her. It was always there: unchanging, unflinching. Her hooves touched the stone as she fell in front of it. She looked at the scarred surface of her oldest friendship, and allowed it to happen again: She had to feel. She had to know.
She had always felt the rock. No pony believed her back then, but this stone had feelings. Deep, intense feelings. She connected to it as she used to do. Memories rushed back to her, times when she’d been picked on for talking to stones. She’d tried to tell them that it wasn’t stones, it was just the one; but that hadn’t mattered to them.
She could feel the boulder reach back to her. The tears formed on her eyes from the strain and the feelings flooding her: pain, loss, sadness, loneliness, anger. All the emotions she’d given to the stone. Holder’s Boulder gave them back.
“Whyyy?” she pleaded through her dust covered teeth. “Who… who did you send me?”
Now the stone felt pride, and beamed at its achievement. It had searched far and wide over the past few years. Every time Limestone had come to it, yearning for something she barely understood, the stone searched. With every tear she placed in its cracks, it had searched for the solution.
It didn’t have arms to hold her. It didn’t have lips to kiss her. It needed somepony that did, so it found her. It found her, and in its excitement it brought her here the only way it knew how.
Could Limestone accept these gifts that the stone couldn’t give her itself? Could she let the rock that lived in her heart beat for joy instead of sorrow?
Holder’s Boulder wanted her to. It wanted its friend to do all the things that ponies like her did. It wanted her to love, to feel, to bring joy to the farm. The boulder had helped her sisters, and now it wanted to help Limestone—its most precious friend of all. Could she find peace with the boulder’s choice?
“I… I hope so,” she murmured. “I’ll try. And… and nothing can stop me! She will know how I feel, and nothing will stop me from accepting her!” the defiant mare shouted at the wind, sand and stone. Then darkness followed. Her body told her that it was done; that her shenanigans had gone far enough.
***
Holder’s Boulder was born of fire and pressure in an egg of soil. Then it emerged, its surface bright and gleaming. The wind played with it, and welcomed it to the surface.
Animals and trees began to appear. The boulder could feel each life force, and it was content. The stone’s surface was strong; it didn’t mind the cracks it received or the chips it lost over the years. Such was the price of interaction.
Then ponies began to gather around it. They carved names, wishes, and prayers into its surface. They taught the stone about hopes and dreams. They taught it love: the deepest form of connection, the truest act of selflessness.
The rock carried that message to all that passed by. Though they didn’t understand it, they still felt it. Ponies began to change. They no longer saw the way of nature; they saw the way of each other. Of reminding each other of that love. The rock was happy with that. As long as it could feel the energy, it fueled their search. Now it had brought that feeling again, more directly than ever before.
Limestone saw all of this in an unconscious instant. Then she felt her weakened body lifted off the ground. The strongest hooves imaginable dragged her across the dirt. They belonged to a dark form in a cloak. Those yellow hooves dug into the earth, fighting against the wind. The cloaked figure’s mouth unleashed a string of obscenities that made the farm mare melt inside.
“Are you a fucking idiot?! What were you thinking? Why did you have to go out in the middle of the night to see your friend in a sandstorm?”
Each sentence burned with a soft fury. Limestone wasn’t being yelled at, she was being scolded. Like a loved one would do for her. She couldn’t be happier.
“I… had... to know,” she finally sputtered out with a cough of dust.
“Know?! Know what?”
“Who Holder’s Boulder sent.”
“I knew you were dense, but I didn’t think you were fucking stupid.”
“I had to know who you were. A friend or… a marefriend.” The words were choked by a fresh layer of dust that coated her tongue. She felt the stairs to the farm house under her rump, then she was painfully dragged up each one. However, that pain was nothing compared to the question that hung in the air, lingering despite the strong wind.
“Do you really think your magical stone would do all this just for a friend?”
Before Limestone could comprehend what that meant, she was pushed through the door of the home and the storm was shut outside.
The dark-cloaked figure threw the darkness aside and gleamed yellow in the lamplight. She shone like some magical being of grace and beauty. Then the glamorous creature lowered its head inches from Limestone’s face. “If you ever fucking do that to me again, I will murder you! You will be dead! All your bones will be broken, and you’ll end up in a full-body cast drinking through a straw! Do I make myself clear?!”
“Yeah, I hear you.” The slumped form on the floor said. Her cuts were bleeding, and the sand was stinging her eyes. That’s why they were leaking. Definitely not any other reason.
“What the fuck made you go out there anyway?!”
“You…”
“Me?!”
“You said I was your special somepony. In your sleep,” whispered the jelly-legged mare. “Then Pinkie’s book said we were a couple.”
“Huh. Well, I…” the gleaming yellow form took on a shade of red that increased its brilliance. Together, the two colors shone like the sun itself. “I realized that a while back, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I didn’t know how you’d react. It made sense with the whole boulder thing, but I was hoping that you would figure it out. And that you’d want me too. But you never did. Are you really that dense?”
“I’m not used to getting what I want, so I normally don’t want anything,” Limestone explained. “But you… you were something I couldn’t not want. But I didn’t think you would actually want me.”
“That’s because you’re dense. I gave you the nickname Hot Stuff, for fuck’s sake.”
Limestone tried to get to her hooves, but they rejected the ground. They thought she was fine right where she was. “I’m fucked up. My body’s pretty beat.”
“You didn’t even grab a storm cloak, you asshat!”
“Now who’s being insulting?”
“If I can’t insult my marefriend, who can I insult?” Spitfire said with a sly smirk.
“Just because I can’t get up doesn’t mean I’m going to take that lying down,” shouted Limestone with an angry weak hoof in the air.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed. We’ll clean you up in the morning,” the pegasus said, looking away so the increased redness didn’t show. It did anyway.
“Will you kiss me goodnight, Cherry Mare?” A shit-eating grin accompanied that challenge.
“Alright, Hot Stuff, if you weren’t so beat up you might have gotten more than a goodnight kiss. And you might have had to change my nickname.” The Wonderbolt didn’t look at her captive as she helped her up the stairs.
“Who said I was talking about that? Your face is cherry red, Cherry Mare. The nickname stays! And I don’t think I’m ready for it all… yet,” Limestone admitted. “We have time. But if you’re offering that kiss, and maybe some more snuggling, I’m taking it.”
“Of course I am, fuckhead,” snickered the giddy pegasus.
The bed was nice and warm, and covered in yellow feathers. It was like a nest. Limestone found it irresistible.
She let the other mare drape her forehooves over her, then she felt those fiery lips meet her own. Strangely, that fire put out her own, and soon she was asleep.
***
She didn’t care what any of them thought. She wasn’t moving.
“Hey, Limey, guess what? Guess what? The Choosing Stone refused to choose without yo—“ The sound of Pinkie’s voice cut short with the sound of her door opening. “Well, it’s about time you two got together. Sheesh, I wrote that book ages ago!”
