And That's How Equestria Was Made
Limestone Pie stared across the farm. Her father’s farm. So many rocks to grow and break and grow some more. It wasn’t pretty, not like Mama. It was hard, tough. Like Limestone, the toughest eight-year-old filly in—
Something whacked against the back of her head with enough force to make her bob forward. Groaning, she snatched the two-year-old sitting on her back and deposited her roughly on the patio. The foal looked up at her with cool disinterest, a foam pickaxe lodged firmly between her baby teeth. “Maud,” Limestone cried with the utmost indignity. “I was trying to be big pony-like!”
Maud sat where she’d been placed, weapon of foamy power in mouth, and cocked her head.
Limestone pouted. A poke at the pickaxe earned no further response. “Why do I have to carry you? Why do you get to play with my pickaxe?” Another couple of pokes. Maud rolled backwards from the force of them, only to roll right back into place like the world’s most stubborn bowling pin. With a sniff of disdain, Limestone looked away. “I don’t want two more of you.”
“Hmm,” Maud answered in only the most articulate way she could with the pickaxe still firmly in her mouth.
A glance around. From the back patio of their two-story home, she could see Papa in the distant south field. No sign of Mama. Probably in the house, cleaning up from breakfast. Nopony to notice. Limestone reached out to curl a fetlock around the pick-end of the Destroyer of Rocks, lifting it up. Maud’s chin rose with it, then her whole head, until her front hooves barely touched the ground.
Limestone released. Maud settled.
Up went the pickaxe again. Limestone grimaced as this time Maud’s forelegs lifted off the ground entirely, tucking under her. Little teeth remained firmly clamped around the handle. The elder sister waggled the pickaxe, making Maud sway.
Let go. Back to the ground.
With a growl, Limestone grabbed the head of the pickaxe between her own teeth, reared up and lifted.
Maud dangled from the foam handle, all four hooves tucked in. She blinked at her elder sister. “Hmm.”
“Le’go.” Limestone waggled the pickaxe.
“Hmm.” Maud’s tail brushed the ground. Her eyes never left Limestone’s, just like her teeth never left the pickaxe.
“Le’go!” Another waggle. If nothing else, the back patio was getting swept.
“Hmm.” Another blink from the two-year-old.
“Ish mine!” Limestone tried to keep the tears out of her eyes. Waggle waggle waggle.
Brush brush brush. “Hmm.”
“Troublesome child!” Mama‘s head emerged from the shadows of the back door, eyes sharper than the pointiest shards. “Leave your sister alone. Your Great Uncle Holder will be here at any moment and I do not want to see you behaving like this when he does.”
Limestone opened her mouth to retort, only to realize too late that it had still been holding the pickaxe. The thunk of the foal’s rump on the hardwood floor seemed to echo for miles.
“Limecena Doris Pie!” Mama’s massive frame wobbled through the doorway in as much hurry as it could manage. “Be careful with your sister, for Celestia’s sake!” The fact that Maud promptly sat up, foam pickaxe still firmly entrenched between her teeth and making naught a sound of complaint, went unnoticed.
Limestone scowled at her mother’s hooves and sat, tail curling about her flank. “She started it.”
“Hmm.”
Mama snorted, then paused to take a few slow breaths. Limestone’s hairs prickled from what was surely a stern gaze. A small part of her felt guilty. She tried very hard to kick that part away, but it was stupidly persistent.
At last, Mama spoke. “That toy was a gift for your sister, was it not?”
The filly huffed and hunched her shoulders. “Only because you made me.” The silence was like a granite boulder gradually growing heavier on her back, until she finally grouched a “Yes.”
“Then you shall cease this senseless bickering,” her mother concluded. Hoofsteps slowly started moving away. “Your father prepares our fields for your great uncle. Your mother prepares this house for your great uncle. Please, mind Maud so neither of you are underhoof. Think of it as practice for when your new sisters come into this world.”
Limestone turned around to glare at her mother’s tail, but her eyes went to the mare’s expansive belly. Particularly, at how it swayed and slowed her down. Gritting her teeth, she instead looked down at Maud. The child stared up at her with the same plain expression she always had. Then, with a “Hmm,” she batted the pickaxe against Limestone’s knee.
The elder sister scowled and pushed the harmless toy away. “I hope you’re happy.”
Maud cocked her head, the motion limited by the pickaxe pushing against the floor. “Hmm.”
Limestone turned around to face the fields, flopped to her haunches, and crossed her forelegs.
“This sucks.”
Great Uncle Holder came just before lunch, and he didn’t come alone. He came with a big flying ship! Papa saw it first, soaring low over the distant town of Rockstead. Munching on a lime her mother had given her in exchange for a promise to behave, Limestone watched it come closer with wide eyes. She wondered what made such a thing of wood and metal move in the air like some overweight bird. Said bird went straight to the south field and landed there like it owned the place.
Then the bird laid an egg.
Except it was the ugliest egg Limestone had ever seen. A giant rock of mixed grays, greens, and yellows all swirling together, lumpy and jagged and disgusting. It stood taller than the farmhouse, and judging from the way the earth shook beneath her hooves when it landed it was probably heavier too. Mama, Papa, and Limestone – with a little pest called Maud on her back – all stared up at the thing, mystified by its very existence.
Then Holder Cobblestone appeared, walking down a ramp from the side of the ship. He was a tall stallion the color of wet, orange clay, neither thin nor heavy. He had Papa’s sideburns, all grey, and a smoking pipe that was perfectly identical to the one Papa used to use back before Mama complained about it too much. He moved slowly, and Limestone wasn’t surprised; he looked old enough to live in the pyramids of Saddle Arabia.
“Nephew!” The stallion pulled Papa into a hug. Limestone’s world just about turned upside down when her father actually smiled at the gesture. “It’s been too long. Was hoping to come by last Hearth’s Warming, but you know how business gets.” His voice didn’t match his looks, coming out gentle and youthful.
“That I do, Uncle,” Papa replied with the kind of warmth usually reserved for goodnight nuzzles and Mama’s cooking. “Time awaits no pony or bill. Receiving your letter was both a surprise and a pleasure. Come,” he gestured to Mama proudly, “my wife, you do recall.”
“Ah, the Lady Pie.” Great Uncle Holder bowed deeply. “A pleasure to see you again. Lovely as always.”
Mama took on a scowl that was defied by the playfulness in her eyes. “And you have lost none of your flamboyant nature, I see. I welcome you to our humble farm, although I question your intentions.”
“My intentions?” The elderly stallion pressed a hoof to his chest in mock dismay. “Whatever intentions do you accuse me of, my dear?”
With a practiced scoff, the mare gestured to a still-staring Limestone and the persistent parasite on her back. “Why, spoiling your grand-nieces rotten, of course.”
Vibrant blue eyes landed on Limestone. She tensed at the sudden attention as the stallion let out a grinning gasp. “Limestone Pie! By Tartarus, you’ve grown so much. Last I saw you, you were only a parcel in the crook of your mother’s foreleg.” He took a step closer and leaned forward, a spot of hope in his smile. “I don’t suppose you remember your crusty old uncle?”
Limestone tossed the lime’s rind aside and glared at him, wondering if he had rocks for brains. “Mama and Papa said I was one last time. Do you remember being one?”
Mama looked two steps away from fainting. “Limestone!”
But Great Uncle Holder burst into laughter, a bellowing sound that echoed across the fields and no doubt could be heard all the way in town. “She’s got her grandmother’s barbs! You must drive your parents up the walls, you wonderful child.”
This threw Limestone back every bit as much as it did her parents. To be praised for being snippy was… strange. Not unwelcome, but it left her uncertain of what to say next. She settled for an awkward, “Okay?”
He leaned over her to examine the ever-present nuisance still settled on her back. “And this little thing must be Maud. A pleasure to meet you, young lady.”
Maud stared blankly at him, foam pickaxe still locked in the iron grip of her jaws. She gave his snout a test-whack with it but, alas, it failed to produce any gems.
The stallion barked a laugh that made both fillies’ eyes widen. “That’s adorable! They’ll make a rock farmer out of you yet.”
Limestone bristled at the praise. It was a stupid toy. She was the one who went out and worked with Papa whenever she could, it should be her getting the attention. She opened her mouth, but a warning glance from Mama shoved the words back in her throat.
Mama watched her for a few more seconds. Apparently content that her daughter wouldn’t interrupt, she turned her attention back to Great Uncle Holder. “I had intended to invite you to lunch, Mr. Holder, but curiosity has robbed me of my manners. What, pray tell, is that.” Her hoof gestured to the mighty lump of hideous stone now settled in the middle of the rock farm. It was a good enough question to make Limestone forget her annoyance at being Maud’s whacking dummy. Mostly.
“Ah,” Great Uncle Holder replied as though he’d somehow forgotten all about the preposterous pillar of petrification. “The reason I am here. Quite right. Better get it over with! Come, come, all of you. Let’s take a look at this thing, shall we?” With an inviting wave of his hoof, the stallion led them closer to the strange object.
He trotted to the side of the great boulder and slapped a hoof to its side. “Nephew! Tell me what you make of this.”
Papa let out a long, low hum and rubbed his own hoof against the stone. Curious, Limestone followed suit. The rock was… odd. It felt smooth in places that looked jagged and jagged in places that looked smooth. Something about the way it felt under her frog gave the impression that it was a very hard, dense stone.
Maud gave it a light whack with her pickaxe. The rebound was so inordinately strong that the filly almost toppled backwards. She straightened up and offered a thoughtful, “Hmm.”
“Yeah,” Limestone agreed quietly. “I think it’s weird too.” She cautiously stepped back, making sure to keep her little sister well away from the thing.
Papa had his eyes closed, as he did whenever he was feeling the earth or checking a rock for quality. Nopony interrupted him, for all knew that he was deep in concentration. Limestone watched the act with a reverent feeling, wondering if maybe she could one day feel the living rock as her father could.
“The feel of this stone is unfamiliar to me,” Papa admitted after a long inspection. “And to my earth pony senses.” He opened his eyes at last to give Great Uncle Holder a studious look. “Yet if the knowledge passed on to me by your brother holds true, then this is none other than a Stone of Chaos.”
Great Uncle Holder's quiet manner made his next words seem heavier somehow, heavy enough to still Limestone’s hooves with the weight of them. “You are correct, as can be expected. This rock was touched by the magic of the Age of Chaos. But it is far more than just that, for this very stone once resided in the blasted lands near the Gates of Tartarus. Indeed, it was from rocks just like this one that Celestia herself forged the Gates to hold Equestria’s most horrible foes.”
Chaos stone? The very idea sent Limestone’s mind aflutter with stories told by her Papa late at night when she couldn’t sleep. He’d spoken of all the different kinds of fantastic stones that existed out there. Rocks that burned and birthed phoenixes. Rocks colder than ice, said to have been touched by windigos. Rocks that floated in the sky by magical means unclear to even the finest unicorn minds. Chaos Rock, as her father had described it, was among the rarest. A rock so hard that no earth pony strength nor unicorn magic could crack it. That idea had always sounded crazy to Limestone. After all, what rock existed that Papa couldn’t shatter with but one hoof?
Mama, who had until now kept her distance and her tongue, at last spoke up. “That cannot be. Only Celestia herself can break such stones. If what you claim is true, then how did you crack this rock from the earth and bring it here?”
“You are partially correct, madam.” Great Uncle Holder nodded respectfully to her. “No pony other than Her Royal Highness could have achieved such a feat. But this stone was already broken from the earth. This one in particular was found in an abandoned dragon’s nest. I needed only to find a means of lifting it. Fortunately…” He gestured with his chin and a smile to the airship sitting mere steps away. “Equine ingenuity was up to the task.”
As fascinating as all this was – no, really, Limestone was in awe that she was lucky enough to actually touch such a thing – it didn’t answer the question burning in her mind. “But why did you bring it here?”
All eyes went to Limestone’s. Except for Maud’s, as she was too busy stretching her entire body out in an attempt to whack the stone from her perch on Limestone’s back.
When those same eyes went to Great Uncle Holder, he smiled and declared, “It is a test, of course.” He turned to Papa, who stiffened as one might do when being judged. “I am in the twilight of my life. I need to choose somepony to inherit the family’s estate. The Holder Family owns nine farms, this one included. There must be a leader.”
Once more, he set a hoof to the Stone of Chaos. “Each of your cousins has received his own stone. The one that finds a way to reshape it earns it all.”
Things got quiet. Not even the wind blew as the momentous statement took hold of everypony’s brains.
This lasted for about three seconds before Mama shattered it with an amused scoff. “You sent one of these things to Wine Holder? In Prance?”
Limestone gawked. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard her mother speak with that much… enthusiasm before! Even Maud ceased her ceaseless whacking at Limestone's head to stare for a few seconds.
“Well. Somepony has feelings about this,” Papa said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.
That actually made Mama laugh. “I do not need to speak like my father to get this point across. Uncle Holder, you seriously did not waste the bits to send one of these useless things to Prance for a test that colt will not be interested in even trying, did you?”
Great Uncle Holder merely shrugged with a lopsided smile. “Fair’s fair, my dear. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t give each of the brothers a go at it too?”
“That must have cost a fortune!”
“And then some.” The old stallion waved a hoof as if to brush away dust. “I told the Prench Royal Museum it would be given to them as a gift if Winey couldn’t crack it. Made the same agreement with the Manehattan Museum of Natural Sciences for Stock. Princess Celestia said if Spear can’t figure it out then she’d do it herself and make some new furniture for her school. All three count as charitable donations.” He grinned and winked. “Which means tax breaks. Don’t think I didn’t think this through.”
That gibberish went over Limestone’s head, and presumably Maud’s too. But one thing was clear: if Papa could crack this big rock, everything Great Uncle Holder owned would be his. Theirs? No, his. But maybe hers someday. And it would have to go to Papa, wouldn’t it? Limestone recalled only a little about her cousins, but she knew Spear Holder liked to fight, Stock Holder liked to make money, and Wine Holder liked something that Mama and Papa unanimously agreed was in the supremely unfair territory of “when you’re older”. None of those things involved rocks. Well, Uncle Wine’s might, but probably not.
That meant it was up to Papa. He had to crack the Stone of Chaos and beat Great Uncle Holder’s test. Pay no mind to little Maud whacking away at the thing with her pickaxe – when did she get down there? Limestone snatched her safely away. This was too much for her mighty foam, but not too much for Papa. No stone was too much for Papa.
Limestone gazed upon her father with confidence, sure that at any moment he’d demonstrate just how good he was with rocks.
Papa was not as good with rocks as Limestone had been led to believe.
Her chin sat on the sill of the window of her second story room. She was barely aware of Maud trotting around behind her, whacking at random things and occasionally Limestone herself with that pickaxe that was still, somehow, locked between her teeth. Had she even eaten today? Maybe some cruel pony had glued the thing to her lips and all that whacking was in an effort to dislodge it.
Never mind Maud. Limestone’s attention remained on Great Uncle Holder’s test, clearly visible from her window. The airship was gone, but the stallion remained, taking up Mama’s offer of the guest bedroom. And Papa? He was out there, walking circles around the boulder. The burnt oranges and golds of evening lit the fields, and still he hadn’t made so much as a dent in the thing. He’d hardly tried so far, merely giving it little test taps and such, maybe a lick or two.
Papa was supposed to crack the stone, wasn’t he? He had all that strength, why not just give it a good buck? She’d asked that earlier and he’d told her something about “the science of rocks”. Science, shmience! It was a rock. Break it.
But no, that was too direct for him. He’d said this was a project that would take days. Days! And that assumed he could do it at all. To hear Papa even hint at the idea that he might not be able to break a dumb boulder grated on Limestone’s every nerve. Why was he taking so long? And in the meantime she’d be expected to help out in the field.
Actually, that wasn’t bad. Limestone liked working the fields and in the mine. She hated to admit that she just wasn’t big enough for the harder work yet, but she found her limits the one time she’d cracked a hoof trying to break a rock Papa had expressly forbidden her from trying to break. Still, she could crack the softer ones, and was developing a sense for detecting the geodes, if not their ripeness. She could be useful out there, and there was nothing Limestone liked more than being useful.
A chuckle made her ear flick to the door. “That face explains why Igneous likes to refer to you as his ‘Sourpuss’.”
Limestone shot Great Uncle Holder a glower. He wasn’t decent enough to take this as the threat it was meant to be. Rather, he was leaning against the doorframe and smiling as if she’d just welcomed him home. She huffed and went back to watching her father poke and prod the dumb boulder. “What do you want?”
He took a step into her room. “No need to be so fierce, Sourpuss.”
The hairs on the back of Limestone’s neck went straight. “Only Papa calls me that.”
“And now I do too.” He stood next to her, following her gaze as her father pressed an ear to the ugly rock. “He’s certainly taking his time, isn’t he?”
Another huff. She couldn’t think of a better way to show her frustration, seeing as he was immune to her glare. “It’s stupid. You’re stupid.”
The stubborn old mule refused to be bothered by her tone, even if it was the one that would have made Mama threaten to whack her bottom. “And why is that?” He had the audacity to make the question sound curious.
She turned, growling right in his smiling face. “Because Papa’s the only pony who can run the farm. Or nine farms. My cousins can’t. He doesn’t need a test, and that makes it stupid.”
He rubbed at his sideburns in a way that was probably supposed to make him look wise and thoughtful. Limestone couldn’t help thinking of a rooster preening its feathers. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is stupid. But it doesn’t matter. Unless you think your father won’t pass the test?”
“He will!” She punctuated the shout with a firm two-hoofed stomp.
Which was promptly followed by her mother’s voice from below. “Limestone! What have I told you about stomping upstairs?”
Reflexively, she shouted back a “Yes, Mama!” She didn’t peel her glare from Great Uncle Holder’s face. “Papa will pass your dumb test. Then he’ll own the whole world!”
The stallion chuckled at the declaration. “I can think of a certain pony in Canterlot who might have something to say about that.”
Limestone was readying a fool-proof retort when a squeak of springs caught both their attention. They turned as one to her bed, which bounced as if kicked from underneath. Then something slid out from under it, long and caked in so much dust it might have been made of the stuff. A little dirt monster came crawling out in its wake, and it took about five seconds for a horrified Limestone to recognize the shape of a familiar foam pickaxe. A pair of blue-green eyes opened. “Hmm.”
“Ugh, Maud! What are you doing under there?” Limestone carefully hooked a lone fetlock around the head of the pickaxe to pull the filly out the rest of the way. “You’re getting dust bunnies everywhere. Mama’s going to want me to clean this mess, you know.” She added with extra disdain, “And probably give you a bath too.”
Great Uncle Holder laughed as Maud, much to Limestone’s dismay, shook like a dog and sent the dust and old sheddings all over the room. “Looks like we’ve got a little cave explorer here! Why don’t we see what treasures she’s unearthed?” He gave the object a light rap with his hoof.
“Not you, too,” Limestone snarled, coughing as more dust and hair went flying. “It’s gonna take forever to clean this, and I’m supposed to sleep in here.” Limestone didn’t mind getting dirty, but she’d rather not sleep that way.
Ignoring her, Great Uncle Holder repositioned the box – for it was indeed a box, now that it wasn’t covered under a century’s worth of dust – and pulled the lid off. “Now, what have we here?” The inside was in great condition, featuring a neatly organized arrangement of tools and bottles and stuff Limestone didn’t recognize.
Curiosity overriding her annoyance, she reached in and pulled one of the objects out. It was translucent and shaped like a cylinder with a small spout. “A glass?”
“I believe it’s called a ‘beaker’, Sourpuss.” Ignoring her glare, Great Uncle Holder flipped through a tiny, yellowed booklet that had been nestled in a corner of the box. “Ah, it’s a foal’s science kit! Judging by the age, I’d say it was probably your mother’s from back when her parents owned the farm.”
More science. Limestone wanted to gag. She faked it, just for the effect. First her father, now Maud. “Toss it in the garbage. It’s worthless.”
“Come now, you don’t know that.” Great Uncle Holder kept flipping through the book, even as his tail flicked to avoid a strike from Maud’s pickaxe. “I for one was fascinated by this stuff when I was your age.”
“And that’s why you’re not a rock farmer.” Limestone turned dismissively from the box and glared out the window. Papa still hadn’t just broken the dumb boulder already. Her ears folded back as she recalled what he’d said about the ‘Science of Rocks’, but refused to take the statement back.
Great Uncle Holder merely chuckled once more, a sound that was increasingly tweaking her nerves. “Perhaps you’re right, child.
“Perhaps you’re right.”
Limestone, a hard worker like she was supposed to be, was busy moving the rocks Mama pointed out to a wheelbarrow. They were destined for the southeast field, where all the nearly ripe geodes were sent to finish out their growth and be sorted. This was normally Mama’s job, but she was in no condition to move these rocks. Limestone didn’t mind. The field was always a good place to be.
She tried to use her earth pony senses on each stone as she pushed it. She could tell there were geodes in them, but how to determine that they were ripe, or close to it? She needed to figure this out if she was ever going to take on more responsibilities around here. She’d asked Mama, but she’d said it was something that had to be learned through experience. Limestone hated that phrase. It was just adultspeak for “I’ll tell you when you’re older”.
Her latest stone settled into place, Limestone paused as she always did to glance towards the Stone of Chaos near the farmhouse. Three days it sat there, and three days Papa still hadn’t cracked it. Now he’d built a large structure – a “scaffold”, she reminded herself – around it so as to look at the higher parts. She could see him studying it even now. And there was Great Uncle Holder. Limestone resisted the urge to snarl at the sight of him sitting in Papa’s rocking chair on the back patio and watching the work being done, but only because Mama would notice. Snorting, she turned and trotted towards her mother, muzzle held high.
Mama was settled on a wool blanket, resting on her side so her swollen belly wouldn’t get in the way. In her shadow was Maud, repeatedly stacking small stones into different shapes only to smash them down with her ever-present pickaxe. This was something Limestone did not begrudge the filly, for it was good practice for when she was old enough to do the real thing. Her mother’s face shifted towards a large stone some forty paces away, nearly identical to all its neighbors.
“That one. Limestone, if you please.”
Without a word, she went to the rock, which was taller than she was, and began pushing. She had to strain and grunt and maybe almost use those words of strength Papa whispered when he thought she wasn’t listening, but the thing moved. Limestone didn’t complain about how hard it was. Hard was good. Doing something hard meant proving she could, and proving she could would make Mama and Papa trust her more. Only trustworthy, hard-working ponies worked on rock farms.
At last, the rock came to a stop next to Mama. “Thank you.” The mare promptly set her hooves to the stone and closed her eyes. That’s all there was to it. No flashy lights, no audible hum. Earth pony magic was shy like that. Limestone observed, hoping to catch some hint as to what her mother was doing, but the truth eluded her. Pursing her lips, she set her own hoof to the rock and tried to ‘feel’ it.
Feel she did. There were gems within, lots of them. This rock was worth a lot of bits. Limestone could also sense her mother’s magic, hard and soft in tandem, running smoothly through it all like the lapping waves of the ocean. Limestone had never seen the ocean, but told herself it was an apt comparison anyway.
“Hmm, not yet.” Mama’s eyes opened, already set upon Limestone’s. “This one needs to ripen for a few more months.”
Limestone looked at her mother and back at the stone again and again and again, every transition leading to a scrunchier face. At last she threw up her hooves and demanded, “But how do you know?”
Mama shrugged, for once not being bothered by Limestone’s outburst. “It is okay to be frustrated at your age,” she declared, but kindly. “I suggest you not worry about it, but past experience suggests that you will anyway.”
Cursing the timidity of earth pony magic, Limestone moved to push the rock away. “I need to figure this out. I want to help you and Papa.”
“Limecena, you are—”
“—too young, I know.” Limestone braced for a scolding at her tone, but none came. This was enough to give her pause and look at her mother.
Mama stared at her with sad eyes, the kind that made Limestone uncomfortable. “There is no reason to be in such a hurry, child. Why so eager?”
Why did she have to look at Limestone like that? The filly turned away to glare at Great Uncle Holder’s stupid rock and the stallion studying it with such unwarranted care. A sick feeling invaded her stomach. It made her want to run away and hide, but she refused to do something so… so foalish. She wished her eyes weren’t burning. “I like to work,” she muttered sullenly. “Is that wrong?”
“Is that really what you like?”
“I ain’t lying!” She stomped her hooves, still glaring at her father in the distance. “I ain’t. I wanna be helpful. I wanna be useful. Playing won’t make me happy.” Then, under her breath, “And it’s not like Uncle Holder’s helping any.”
“Hmm.” Maud was suddenly at her side, staring in the same distance and chewing softly on the handle of her pickaxe.
Limestone pointed at her sibling. “See? Maud gets it.”
“Maud is two.”
“She still gets it!”
Silence reigned among the three of them for some time. When Mama finally spoke, it wasn’t about what she expected. “You do not like Uncle Holder much.”
Limestone’s ears folded back. How did her mother know? She’d been trying to keep it a secret. Maybe she’d looked his way one too many times. “His test is dumb. And he’s not helping out with the farm. He’s why Papa’s not working, he should be helping.”
“Your Great Uncle Holder is old,” Mama patiently replied. “Too old to be doing field work, for certain. And he was never very good at that, anyway.”
“Then why does he own the farm?” Limestone turned to glower up at her mother. “Why does he own nine farms?”
“Because there’s more to owning a rock farm than rocks.”
With a snort, Limestone went back to pushing the stone. She didn’t understand how her mother could say something so weird. How could there be anything other than rocks on a rock farm? But she didn’t want to be a pest to her mother, not right now, so she focused on the work. Hard work of the good variety. It wasn’t enough to ease her thoughts, though. She wanted to look at that boulder. She wanted to know what Papa was doing, and why. She wanted…
When the next, smaller rock her mother pointed out was brought to her, Limestone sat aside and glared at the chaos stone. There was something she absolutely didn’t want to say, but the question was a little breezie burning a hole in her gut. “Mama, what happens if Papa can’t crack that boulder?” She cringed; just the suggestion that Papa couldn’t do it made her feel like she’d eaten too many brownies.
Mama’s response was woefully lacking in concern. “I suppose life will continue as it has since ages past.”
That answer was stupid, but Limestone wouldn’t dare say so to her mother’s face. She would just have to explain it in a way even an adult could understand. “Great Uncle Holder said whoever breaks the boulder earns the farms. Cousins Spear, Stock, and Wine could never do it. If Papa doesn’t, then nopony does! If nopony does…” She kicked at the ground and tried not to think about how that breezie in her stomach was having a sugar rush. “What happens to the farm then?”
“Not one thing shall happen to this farm,” her mother responded with utmost confidence. “Come now, such concerns belong to your father and me. There is no need to worry. If you are so insistent upon helping—” She nudged the rock she’d been studying away. “—then move this to the wheelbarrow.”
She didn’t understand. If she did, she wouldn’t be so calm. Limestone rolled her eyes and— “Do not roll those eyeballs, Limecena.” —stopped rolling her eyes and did as she was told.
Why were all adults so dumb?
If Mama and Papa weren’t going to take this seriously, then Limestone figured she’d have to handle it with her own four hooves. She took Maud with her, because she was the only other pony who understood the dire circumstances. Late night sounds buffeted her ears from atop the scaffolding, frogs and crickets and the like. Limestone did her best to ignore them and focus on her foe, the Stone of Chaos. Maud was nestled on her back, still awake but probably sleepy. It was hard to tell sometimes.
“Hmm.”
“I know,” Limestone growled under her breath. “Mama or Papa find out and we’re dead.” After a moment’s thought she added, “You can say I made you come out.”
“Hmm.”
“Right.” She went back to glaring at the rock. “To work.” She walked up to the edge of the scaffolding, pulled her leg back, and punched the rock. It wasn’t a hard hit, just a test run. It still made her knee ache. She rubbed at the limb, scowling and wondering just how hard the rock might be. “I’m gonna beat you,” she promised the oversized lawn ornament.
She tried again and again and again, every hit a little harder than the last. Eventually she set Maud aside to whack away at the rock with her foam pickaxe and resorted to good old fashioned bucking. Sore legs, growing weariness and the ever-looming threat of being caught did not dissuade her. She was going to beat this boulder into submission before the sun was up!
Yet no matter how much her legs hurt, still the boulder showed no sign of giving in. What was its deal? Did it want her family to lose the farm? Limestone thought of Papa and how hard he worked every day. She thought of Mama and the legacy she’d be disappointing. She thought of little Maud, whacking away just as diligently even when the odd rebound sent her sprawling on her back. She thought of the two little sisters she didn’t have yet. Every thought made her want this even more, but wanting it more wasn’t making any progress! If she could hit in just the right place, with just the right strength, she could pull it off with just… one… more… good… “Augh!”
Her rear hoof slipped sideways on a crooked part of the stone and twisted. A fire shot through her fetlock and intensified when she tried to put her weight on it. Limping a couple steps away, she sat down and examined the injury. “Stupid leg,” she snarled, “you look fine. Now stop whining and let me—” She tried to stand, only to whimper and fall back to the ground. “Stupid leg! Stupid boulder!” Her eyes started to burn and she clutched her fetlock. “Stupid me.”
“I see somepony is ambitious tonight.”
Limestone whipped around to spot a pony just reaching the top of the scaffold. “Uncle Holder,” she snarled through the terror. “Don’t tell Mama and Papa!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Great Uncle Holder trotted to her side, pausing only to ruffle the industrious Maud’s mane as she continued whack-a-whack whacking away at the rock. He settled beside Limestone and reached for her leg, but she pulled it away from him with a scowl. “Does it hurt?”
“What do you care?” Then, with dawning awareness, “This is all your fault!”
There was that stupid smile of his. “My fault? I don’t remember making you come up here.” He gestured to her fetlock with an encouraging, “I need to look at that.” When she only glared at him some more, he added a curious, “Unless you want your mother to do it?”
“I want to know what you want!” Limestone almost bit her tongue trying to stop those words, if only because she realized how dumb they sounded. “I mean, I want to know… I want—” She nursed her fetlock and glared at the stone and Maud still hacking away as if she hadn’t noticed her sister’s injury or the villain’s arrival. What did she want?
A quiet came over them, save for the faint thumping of the little foam pickaxe. The crickets and frogs tentatively began sounding off again. As calm as everything seemed, Limestone felt like kicking somepony. Preferably Great Uncle Holder. She focused on massaging her leg, not wanting to grace him with her glare. He wasn’t even worth that much.
The stillness was interrupted at last when the stallion, watching the younger sibling curiously, remarked, “She’s very determined.”
“She doesn’t get it,” Limestone growled. “She’s two.”
“What doesn’t she get?”
“That she’s never going to crack that rock.” Limestone nevertheless watched her little sister work. The pickaxe bounced off the stone again and again to a rhythm only the little filly could hear. She seemed to have found just the right force necessary to not get knocked on her flank by the unnatural rebound. There was something pleasant about it, something that made Limestone feel that Maud would go very far someday. Even if…
Ears folding back, eyes not leaving her sibling, Limestone asked, “Why are you doing this to Papa?”
Great Uncle Holder rubbed at his sideburns in that thoughtful way of his. “Doing what?”
She pursed her lips, but refused to look at him. “He can’t crack this rock. He’s gonna fail the test. All my cousins will, too.” His soft laugh at last earned her fiery stare. “It’s not funny.”
“There’s not a chance in Tartarus your father will fail my test.” He sounded disturbingly confident. “Your father will inherit everything, child. I can assure you of that.”
Limestone stood, holding her injured leg up but still managing to maintain her glare. That the stallion was still focused on Maud instead of her only made her want to buck him even more. “If Papa could crack this rock, he’d have done it three days ago. He can’t!” Admitting that felt like raking a pukwudgie across her throat, but she couldn’t deny it any longer. “You know he can’t.”
“Sourpuss—”
“Only Papa can call me that!”
Now he did look at her, his words a whispered warning. “You’re going to wake your parents.”
“Why do you want Papa to fail? You already own the farm, what good does it do you?!”
Great Uncle Holder let out a long, suffering sigh, then turned to Maud. He picked the filly up, cradled her in one leg, and started back down the platform.
Limestone followed, tail lashing and teeth grit. Her limp slowed her, but he moved at a pace that would let her keep up. She almost snapped at him for taking Maud like that, but stopped herself because it would do neither of them any good. At least her little sister had the good sense to whack his cheek with her pickaxe a couple times. It didn’t do much, but it was the thought that counted.
When they reached the bottom of the scaffold, Great Uncle Holder turned to face her. “Limestone, I’m not going to tell you my secrets, because then you’d tell your father and that would ruin the test. But I will tell you this much: there’s more to the test than a single hunk of rock.”
Of course she knew that. There were four rocks, one for Papa and each of his cousins. Did he think she was stupid? She responded with the silence he deserved.
He hefted Maud to a more secure position – and in a way that kept her from whacking his face anymore, which probably wasn’t a coincidence – and spoke in a scolding tone that reminded Limestone far too much of her father’s. “I’m going to put your sister to bed, which is where all good fillies should be at this time of night. As for you, if you want me to look at that leg of yours, meet me in the kitchen. Otherwise you should go to bed too.” He started to walk away, but paused to add, “And I’m still not telling your parents about this.” Then he was off, soon to disappear into the farmhouse.
Limestone didn’t go inside. He wanted her to be a ‘good filly’, so that’s exactly what she wouldn’t be. Walking around to the other side of the boulder, she sat down and glared at the moonlit fields. What a load of hogwash. As if cracking the rock wasn’t the whole test. He was trying to distract her, but she knew better than to fall for his wicked tricks. He wanted to ruin her father and her family and no amount of lying would hide that from her.
But what could she do? She was only a filly. Tonight made it clear she wasn’t going to crack that rock, and she’d been stupid to try. No, all she could do was watch her father and trust in him. The thought got her wound up more than one of Mama’s knitting spools.
Someday she’d be a big pony. Someday she’d be able to handle this entire farm by herself. Someday she wouldn’t have to sit out of the way and let Papa and Mama do all the hard work. But now? Now she would have to trust in Papa. The worst part about all of this was that she didn’t think she could anymore.
That alone was enough to make the tears finally slip out.
“I have come to a decision.”
Limestone looked up from the lime she’d been gleefully devouring. Papa sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, and was looking at everypony present with his usual calm, unenthusiastic expression. Mama and Great Uncle Holder immediately stopped their conversation to listen. Maud whacked the table with her pickaxe, her bowl of rock soup mysteriously half-empty despite Limestone having not once seen her without her teeth clamped around the toy.
There was nothing special about today. Her family looked as normal as they always did. Yet there was something in the way Papa looked that told her this was going to be important. She didn’t know how she knew that. Maybe it was just nerves.
Her father looked Great Uncle Holder in the eye. “I am not going to try and break that boulder.”
And just like that, Limestone’s world crumbled. She thought she might be falling, but a cautious glance down showed she was still in her chair. Her legs trembled as she tried to stay upright and listen.
“Already?” Great Uncle Holder asked, his tone curious. “It’s only been a week.”
“Aye, one whole week,” Papa agreed. “Time spent dallying about eyeing a stone that mortal hooves cannot hope to break. A rock farm is what this place is, and yet I have performed no rock farming. I would be unworthy of owning the farm if I kept wasting time on such a pointless effort.”
Limestone slammed her forehooves on the table, paying no mind to Mama’s sharp look. “But Papa! You can’t give up. You’ve hardly touched the rock!”
Her father nodded in his solemn way, but his eyes spoke of a sadness he refused to show. “Limestone, my little Sourpuss. You have made me proud this past week, helping your dear mother. But you are still a small pony. Even together, the two of you cannot make up for my indolence, and every day the work falls ever more behind. It is my obligation to get back to it before things go too far.”
Couldn’t he hear himself? If he didn’t break that rock, there would be no ‘recovery’! Limestone looked to her mother, who seemed happy – happy! – with this and knew no help would come from that direction. Maud merely looked back with bored eyes, her bowl a third full and pickaxe superglued to her teeth.
And then there was Great Uncle Holder. That… That jerk. He was smiling. Smiling, because he’d won! She thrust a hoof at him and declared, “Then make him help us! He’s been here all week and he hasn’t lifted a hoof to help on the farm!”
Mama’s fierce look came back in an instant. “We spoke of this, Limestone. Do not be rude to our guest.”
“Guest?” Limestone met the old stallion’s hurt look with a snarl. “Isn’t he supposed to be family? Isn’t family supposed to help? Why isn’t he helping? We could keep up and Papa could solve that dumb rock!”
Papa frowned, but it was a look less of anger and more of concern. “Limestone—”
“No! You can’t let him win! You can’t let him take this farm away!”
“Limecena!” Mama stood to tower over her. “You will settle down this instant.”
She shivered, she trembled, she quaked. Her mother’s demanding stare, her father’s apologetic one, her great uncle’s anxious fiddling with his spoon. Maud, for once giving Limestone her full attention. That was the worst. Maud never gave anypony her full attention. That Limestone had it now made her feel small.
Nopony was going to help. None of the adults got it, except the one who was trying to ruin everything. If they couldn’t solve this…
Limestone jumped out of her chair and marched for the stairs. Not a single pony spoke as she stomped up every step, entered her room and slammed the door closed. Her mother could lecture her later, she had more important things to do. Papa might give up, but Limestone wouldn’t quit. Great Uncle Holder would not win. She sat at her window and scowled at the ugly chaos stone, wishing she could shatter it into a thousand tiny bits with her hatred alone.
When that proved predictably pointless, she took to pacing. Papa couldn’t break that rock with his bare hooves, so she certainly couldn’t do it. Mama was in no condition to try, and she wasn’t as strong as Papa even before she somehow got two foals inside her belly. Maud could whack-a-whack away all she wanted, she wasn't going to do anything. And Great Uncle Holder? As if he’d bother to help. It had to be her. But how? Strong hooves weren’t enough to do the job, and if she didn’t have strong hooves, what did she have?
She was in her twelfth loop around the room when she spotted a familiar, dusty box nestled in the corner by her bed. With a scoff, she performed another round of pacing, then saw the box again. Yet another loop, but the box refused to vacate the premises. Growling under her breath, she kicked it back under her bed and went back to pacing.
For three steps, then she was staring at the bed. A bite of the lip, a glance out the window, a folding back of the ears. Was this what it felt like to be tempted by Discord? She was an earth pony, a rock farmer. She didn’t need anything more than her hooves!
What was a filly to do when hooves didn’t work?
Reluctantly, feeling guiltier with every step, she approached the bed. The box slid out from beneath it with ease and the lid popped off. Mind filled with anxious uncertainty, she picked up the booklet.
A heavy knock on the door. “Limestone?” It creaked open, and Papa stepped into the room. He found her sitting in the middle of the floor, four different books from the Rockstead Library opened around her along with a half-eaten lime.
Limestone didn’t look up. She did blink her tired eyes. “I’m busy.” Her tail flicked as she flipped the page of the book in front of her.
Her father’s hooves appeared before her. “Dear little Sourpuss, what has possessed you? You have been hiding away in here for four days. Your mother worries. Your sister is lonely.”
Had it been four days? Now that she thought on it, yes, it had. Four days with only pauses to eat, sleep, and other necessities. No wonder her eyes felt funny.
Papa tapped the edge of one of the books, nudging it closed so he could see the cover. “These seem advanced for somepony your age.”
Yeah, they were. At least, most of it. But not all. Limestone didn’t care. The answer was in here. They were books about rocks and science and junk. Weird terms like ‘permeability’ and aniso-something floated around in her noggin, shifting and shaking through the filter of her brain. Not all of it slipped through, like this whole ‘Ph’ thing that apparently lemons and soil both had… somehow. The books had to have an answer. If they didn’t…
“Why not come with your father to the west field? We are still behind on farm work, and it would be very much appreciated.”
No. She wouldn’t be distracted. She needed to make this work! And so she focused. The words were weird and boring and adult-y, but she would wrap her eight-year-old brain around them even if she had to pull it out of her head first and flatten it with Mama’s rolling pin. Working out in the fields with Papa was the best thing ever, but there was no time for such luxury. Who knew how long it would be before Great Uncle Holder took the farm away?
So she read and, though it made the breezie in her stomach flutter, ignored Papa. He’d understand when she saved the farm. They all would.
Then her father said something that finally broke her concentration. “I am sorry, Limestone.”
She looked up and felt her heart flip. Papa wasn’t looking at her, and his face was marred with guilt like she’d never imagined he could possess. Papa wasn't supposed to look like that. It was wrong. “Why are you sorry?”
“I did not break the boulder.” He didn’t let his head or shoulders sag, or scuff at the floor, or any of the things that a pony might do when nervous or sad. Yet his eyes were softer than clay as he met hers in a disturbingly fleeting moment. “You believed I would. Your father is not the pinnacle that stood so tall in your mind. Now you know, and in letting you know I feel I have caused you harm.”
Limestone opened her mouth. Closed it again. Her ears twitched as she fought for something to say. She understood what he meant and knew that it was true, but to voice it to his face? Her knees shook at the very idea. Ears folded down, she went back to reading, but the words just blended together as her stupid eyes blurred and burned.
“You can still rely on me.” Papa knelt towards her. “You understand that. Do you not?”
He needed to stop. He was ruining her concentration. Making her think about stupid things. Things she didn’t want to think about. She tried to flip a page, just to look busy. Her stupid tears were ruining the paper. She’d dry it later.
“Will you not tell me what is on your mind?” When she said nothing, he added, “I promise not to be upset.”
He wanted to know what was on her mind? Fine. “I want you to leave.”
A long, heavy pause. His next words were like a windigo in her heart. “Alright, little Sourpuss. You… You know where to find me.” And he left. He even closed the door for her.
Limestone sat there for some time, rubbing at her eyes and trying to get back to reading. She didn’t have time. She had to stop this thinking and get back to work. She needed to be responsible. She had to make it right. After what felt like a wasteful eternity, her eyes stopped burning and she could read again, so she did.
As much as it stung to acknowledge it, her father was wrong. She couldn’t rely on him. Not for everything.
Not for this.
They hadn’t taken down the scaffolding, but they would soon. Tomorrow, in fact. That meant Limestone only had one shot at this. Most of the things she read were too dense and wordy for her, but there was a solution in those pages. If brute force couldn’t break this boulder, maybe something else could.
So now she sat atop the scaffold, a few bowls around her with different things she’d scrounged out of the workshop, the kitchen, and in the hills outside the farm. That last one had been the hardest. She’d had to slip away from home a few times. The first two she couldn’t find the plants she needed and had to go back to studying for other options. But now she had them, small red flowers that looked like daisies but had thorns. Her mouth and hooves still stung badly from getting poked by them, but she ignored that.
There was no time to get worked up over a little pain. Great Uncle Holder had been secreting Papa away more and more lately. They wouldn’t say what they talked about, but Papa always came back a little more tired, like a heavy rock had been set on his back and replaced every day by an even heavier one. Limestone knew what was coming. She was out of time.
A mortar and pestle from the kitchen had worked to ground all the solid ingredients up. Everything had been mixed together in Mama’s big bowl, the nice metal one she got from town. It smelled foul enough to turn her stomach, but it wasn’t done yet. There was one more ingredient, and it was this that she now diligently prepared.
Before her was Mama’s tea pitcher. Atop that, a strainer. Atop that was the wide-mouthed funnel Papa kept in the workshop, though she’d never seen him use it. Beside this setup was a wide, shallow bowl, and beside that?
Limes. All the limes she could gather from the kitchen. A whole eight of them! Would eight be enough? Mama had bought them for her, trying to ‘cheer her up’ or something like that, so it wasn’t like she was stealing from the kitchen. They just weren’t being used for what Mama expected, that’s all. Using her hooves, she carefully pressed each lime into the shallow bowl, squeezing and twisting and crushing. Sticky juices flowed. It never seemed like enough, but even so she diligently poured the pulpy results into the funnel. Under the light of the full moon she watched as the tea pitcher collected more and more of the liquid that she hoped would solve everything.
As the frogs and crickets and hoot-owls made their racket, Limestone set aside the last green victim and poured her prize into the pitcher, not even allowing herself a lick of the yummy nectar. It was just over half full when the juice stopped trickling. She’d been hoping for so much more. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. There were a lot of numbers in that one book, and Limestone wasn’t sure what they were all for, but she couldn’t waste time trying to figure it out. She knew the ingredients, and this was the most important one. It would have to be enough.
‘Acid’. She’d always known of the concept. It was supposed to be dangerous, but that was what she needed right now. Imagine her surprise when she’d read that those yummy fruits – well, she thought they were yummy – were filled to bursting with the stuff. With great care, she poured the contents into the mixing bowl. A misty white fog rolled through the juice, and she began diligently stirring with a big spoon. When the fog was nice and even throughout the bowl, she called it good and set the spoon aside.
She blinked eyes that were still sore from all that reading and stepped away from her work. Her gaze roamed the rock farm. The fields of stones stretching across the land, barren yet beautiful in the moonlight. She observed the slowly spinning windmill that ground select rocks into the seeds of newer ones. The farmhouse where her family slept peacefully. She thought of Maud and her two up-and-coming sisters and how ignorant they were of the threat to the farm. She thought of her mother, how hard she worked every day to support Limestone and Maud and even Papa. Dear Papa, who couldn’t do the only thing necessary to save the farm.
And Great Uncle Boulder. If this worked then she’d relish the look on his face. Speaking of…
“Okay,” she muttered, carefully lifting the bowl in her forehooves. “This better work.”
The concoction poured like water over the jagged edges of the boulder, fizzing and popping and hissing and stinking. She swallowed and kept pouring. When the flow slowed, she shook the bowl a little, trying to get out every last drop. That done, she set the bowl aside and settled on her belly to watch. The entire world felt so heavy right now, even her eyelids were weighed down.
“Please work.”
Thunk, something soft whacked Limestone’s skull. It was just enough to jolt her into awareness, but she was too slow to raise her head before it happened again. The third time finally got her eyes open.
“Maud!” She sat up with a growl and shoved the foam pickaxe away before it could issue a fourth whacking. “I’m up, I’m up! I know what Mama says, but your sister’s head is not full of rocks.”
Maud blinked at her. “Hmm.”
“Is not.” Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Limestone stretched and let out a long yawn. “What are you doing in my room… anyway?” She looked around. High off the ground. Outdoors. Bowls and other kitchen stuff all around. Wood under her hooves. And there, sitting at her side, was Papa. Her ears folded as she realized that she’d fallen asleep waiting to see what happened to her plan.
Papa wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was set forward and slightly down, ears raised and eyes wide. It wasn’t his usual face, but he didn’t look angry. Even so, Limestone decided to tread lightly. “Um, Papa? I know this looks weird but, um…”
His head twisted towards her so fast it made her jump and tuck her tail in. “Did you do this, child? Tell me the truth.”
She blinked up at him, then looked at the boulder.
A long, shallow gash had been cut into the rock, leaving behind a smooth, uniformly gray surface. The gash ran all the way down to the earth, waving and swerving like the bed of a dried river. Limestone gaped at the sight, not moving even when an inquisitive Maud whacked her shoulder. Slowly, she reached forward to discover that her hoof could easily fit in the crack. Upon touching that hard, undeniably rocky surface, a spark lit off inside of her.
“It worked.” Her entire body trembled. “It worked.” She whipped around to beam at her gaping father, even going so far as to hug his leg. “Papa, it worked!”
“Igneous!” A familiar and unusually welcome voice sprung from the ramp. Great Uncle Holder appeared, wide-eyed and out of breath. “Igneous, are you seeing this? Something’s gone and—”
“You!” Limestone was all smiles as she pronked around her father to point at him. “This is our farm, ya big bully! It worked!” Her heart swelled. “You thought you would win.” Her hair bristled. “But it worked!” Lightning rushed through her veins, filling her every cell with euphoric energy. “It doesn’t matter what you throw at us, I will find a way!” The entire world was brighter than ever before. “I’m going to live and work here forever because it actually worked!”
The old stallion’s eyes narrowed as if to block a sudden flash of light, only to widen. He stared at her as though she were speaking in Goatese, then looked past her. “Igneous…”
She pronked about, legs kicking the energy out. A girlish giggle escaped her and she didn’t even care. “Tell him, Papa! Tell him this is our farm!”
But her father did no such thing. He was too busy studying the slaughtered remains of the fruit laying around the scaffolding. He lifted up a bit of peel and sniffed it. “Lime juice. You used lime juice? But I checked, the rock shouldn't have been affected by—” Maud whacked the bit of rind out of his hoof with all the eagerness of a foal who very much didn’t like limes.
Legs dancing, grin seemingly plastered to her face, she answered, “Yep! Limes and cleaning stuff and some flowers from afield!” Her hooves came to a cold standstill and her ears folded back. “Um, we might have to restock on a few things.”
The conversation was interrupted by full-bellied laughter. Great Uncle Holder was lying on his side, legs kicking with abandon as he laughed and laughed and laughed some more. He laughed so loud and so hard that Limestone took a step back, starting to wonder if Discord had stolen his last marble. He looked at her once his humor came somewhat under control and, between the giggles, said, “That’s why you’ve b-been… been reading so much. You precious… precious child, you’re adorable!”
“I am not!” But her annoyance couldn’t last against the rockslide of pure joy filtering through every tingling inch of her body. “I did it! I did it I did it I did it!” She bounced with every exclamation.
Until her Papa held her down with a lone hoof to her back. She grinned up at him, and he grinned right back. Such a look would have been awkward before, but today it made her feel like melting candle wax. “I’m so very proud of you, Sourpuss. And not just for this.” He patted her flank. “Congratulations.”
What? She twisted to look at where he’d touched, only to find her flank covered in a brand new cutie mark: half of a sliced lime over two rocks. She stared and stared. A cutie mark. For… for what? No, she wasn’t stupid. She knew what. It was as natural as breathing. It could only mean one thing, and it was the sweetest, best thing ever, the only thing Limestone ever wanted. And that meant…
She turned to glare at the still chuckling Great Uncle Holder as he was standing up. “So?”
He sucked down one last, stabilizing breath before meeting her gaze and asking a curious “So?” back.
Swelling with equal parts pride and confidence, she declared, “We passed your stupid test! That means we keep the farm.”
He blinked at her. Then at Papa.
Then both stallions started to chuckle. Yes, Papa chuckled. Papa. Chuckled. Even Maud was staring.
“Limestone,” Great Uncle Holder replied patiently, “your father passed the test ages ago.”
Now it was her turn to blink. “What?” She looked to her smiling Papa. He nodded. She looked to Maud. She whacked the boulder with her pickaxe. She looked to Great Uncle Holder. “What?”
“I told you.” He reached out to pat the stone. “There’s more to the test than a hunk of rock. When your father decided to stop staring at this thing and get back to working on the farm, it showed that he understood what was most important for all of you. That’s how he passed my test.”
She glared at him, trying to parse his word games into something that made sense. “But you said we had to break the rock.”
He shrugged, smug as a quarry eel in a cliff. “I lied.”
“Y-you— You lied?” She snorted steam and bared her teeth, tail lashing. “You mean I wasted all that time reading those dumb books for nothing?”
Papa’s hoof once again touched her shoulder. “I’d hardly call a cutie mark ‘nothing’.”
“I did it for the farm! The cutie mark is for the farm! I thought I had to do this or we’d all have to… have to…” Why were her eyes burning all of a sudden? She didn’t know why she felt so… so bad, but it ran through her with such ferocity that she didn’t object when Papa picked her up and held her tight to his shoulder.
“Now, now, Sourpuss,” he whispered in her ear. “It is alright. You worked so hard, put yourself through so much, and you achieved what we never imagined could be done. I am so very proud of you.”
Great Uncle Holder spoke up. “I’d say she’s earned more than that, and she will if I get a vote on the matter. Which I do.”
Rubbing her burning eyes, Limestone turned in her father’s hooves to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“I wonder the same,” Papa admitted.
Still rubbing the boulder with a lone hoof, eyes closed, Great Uncle Holder replied, “I told you whoever broke the rock would inherit the family business. I knew it was impossible, and this morning I’ve been proven wrong.” He opened his eyes to meet Limestone’s, grinning all the while. “Far be it for me not to keep my word.”
Limestone’s ears perked. Papa shifted. “Uncle, she is only eight.”
“And she loves this farm so much she got a cutie mark over it.” He met Papa’s stare with a knowing look. “And you don’t actually want to control the entire family business, do you?” Papa cringed, and Great Uncle Holder pressed on before he could recover. “I say that when Limestone comes of age, and assuming she’s still willing, we give her a crack at it. That’s fair enough for a miracle worker, don’t you think?”
Limestone felt the spark coming back all over again. The farm. All the farms. Hers. She twisted in her father’s hooves to stare up at him, tail flicking back and forth and heart in her throat.
Papa took one look at that stare and visibly melted.
“Fair enough.”
Thirteen years she had waited. Waited and trained. Not just her body; being in charge of a business meant she had to be smart too. She might not have a college degree, but she knew everything about rock farming, from the grand scale to the nuances of the individual farms themselves. Maud knew rocks better than she did, but Limestone knew rock farming like nopony’s business.
And today? Today she faced the final obstacle: paperwork. Mountains and mountains of tedious, boring, stupid paperwork. She did not flinch at this attack on pony decency, no. She dove right in. Reading every line. Crossing every T. All with the perfect mouthwriting and diction Uncle Holder had drilled her on to make sure not a single one of those vultures in business suits could find a ‘misreading’ in her words. He had wanted to make absolutely certain she was ready for this day.
Everypony was there. Her sisters. Her parents. Her great aunt Granny Pie. Even her cousins Spear, Wine, and Stock came to celebrate the event: Limestone’s twenty-first birthday, and the day she finally got to take charge as was promised all those years ago.
The final page signaling the change of power was held before her by her father. There was a party going on inside the house – because of course there was – but this moment was just for the two of them and the Stone of Chaos. Limestone took the pen in her teeth and, with practiced precision and smooth strokes, made her mark. Right next to her father’s.
“And that is it,” the misty-eyed stallion declared as he tucked the clipboard safely under his leg. “You are in charge, Sourpuss.”
She spat the pen to the ground and stomped it, only the best way to conclude of the last three hours of bureaucratic horror. “Yeah,” she agreed with head held high and a bit of dirt in her eyes. “I am.”
Still the taller of them, he stepped forward, took her head in his hooves, and planted a kiss on her forehead. She allowed it, magnanimous as she was. “Your mother and I are so very proud of you.”
“Yeah?” She did her best to feign indifference, even as she sniffled. “G-good. I’m proud of me too.”
They were silent for a time, taking in the cool autumn evening and the low sun’s light on the boulder before them. It was smooth and clean, free of all the deformities and oddities that had existed before Limestone personally, over the course of three months, tamed it into submission with her ‘solution’. It had been a personal project, one she’d refused any help on save for one pony. Now it was as much hers as it had ever been his, and that felt… right.
“He would be proud of you as well,” her father remarked.
She nodded and made it a point not to brush away the sting in her eyes. “A shame he couldn’t see the day it finally happened.”
“Yes.” He nodded with a knowing smile. “A shame.”
The wind blew. The crickets and the frogs started their chirping. Music could be heard from the farmhouse, accompanied by the faint chimes of laughter.
Without looking at him, she said, “Why don’t you head back to the party?”
He nodded and turned for the farmhouse, but paused. “You want to come along?”
Limestone sniffed and refused to stop staring at the rock. “I’ve got things to do. I’m in charge now, after all.”
He let out a quiet chuckle. “That you are, Limestone. That you are.”
And he was gone, back to the farm and the family and the party. She waited until the noise increased ever so slightly, then died again as a door closed. Only then did she let the shaky breath out with a gentle sob. Rubbing her eyes, Limestone trotted forward and placed her hoof on the smooth side of the boulder. It felt strong and hard and cold and oh, so good.
“If you ever tell anypony I said this I will pull you back from the dead just so I can kill you.”
She pressed her forehead against Holder’s Boulder and let the tears flow.
“Thank you, Uncle Holder.
Thanks for everything.”
Author's Note
Don't ask what inspired this, because I don't know. Undoubtedly I was looking at pictures of Grouchy Pony because she's adorable when inspiration hit, but beyond that I'm clueless.
I ended up writing the draft of this without bothering to research Pie Family history, which is why it deviates from the show regarding relations and the Pie's history. My primary goal was to conceive of a way for Limestone to get her cutie mark that made sense considering what it was, and also to feature Holder's Boulder and explain why she was so protective of it.
I once again thank my pre-readers Serketry and NumberFifth. Their assistance was invaluable.
