The ride out to Rock Country would be a long one. Fine for you, since the moon was already high in the night sky. You’d had a long day today. It was nigh unheard of for you to venture out to so many places all on your own. That, paired with your… many realizations and confessions– to authority figures no less. In hindsight, it was hard to believe that you’d done the things you had.

At this same time last night, what were you doing? Putting the animals to bed, and going over the morning’s plan in your head. Like a broken record you had to psych yourself up for it, otherwise what should’ve been excitement would quickly falter and turn to anxiety. You could never really get away from that anxiety, but that was always true.

'Let the ride be bumpy, as long as you make it to your destination' you suppose.

Well, you hadn’t got there yet, but you still had some gas left in you.

Nopony ever took this train, especially not from Canterlot. If they did, they wouldn’t do it so late at night, nor would they be stopping in Rock Country. It was a sort of pit stop set up along the route to Southern Equestria, one built mainly out of courtesy once Princess Celestia had caught wind that some settler ponies were looking to build a homestead out among the boulders. Pinkie Pie had once told you that Celestia herself assumed that there would be more than just a single family going out to join them, expecting a town to crop up among the rocky faults and gem-rich cliffs. Nothing of the sort happened, despite how profitable the land seemed to be.

Celestia still OK’d the construction of a railway near the Rock Farm, despite seeing this to be the case. Surely, out of love for her ponies; not wishing them to be stranded out on their own, should they wish to leave. You’re not sure how Pinkie knew all of this, down to the business agreements that must’ve happened back in Canterlot prior to her own birth– but truth be told you didn’t know how Pinkie knew most of the things she seemed to know. Questions like that were best left to Twilight, or maybe even Pinkie herself. Maybe one day others would go out to the Southwestern-Equestrian frontier, but until then Pinkie’s family was all but alone with themselves.

Regardless, you welcomed the chance for some quiet reflection, your buzz gently rocking you to sleep in the empty, moon-lit cabin. You kept the blinds open for now, washing your diary in blinking moonlight as the train sped toward your next visit. Scrunched up in a sort of fetal position, laying on your side, you nudge to the next page with your snout as your tail absentmindedly sways back and forth along whatever space wasn’t being occupied by your butt. Despite your infrequent hiccups and wandering mind, you focus the best you can on the notes you’d jotted down from the day.

’WW- Voyeurism. Takeaway: Do things together. Share interests. Be punctual. Slap Anon’s butt.’

Some good points there.
Some better than others.
Some more interesting than others.
Overall…
You wish you would’ve written more.

’CC- Exhibitionism. Takeaway: Do things together. Have sex in public. Be an animal. Unintentionally cause orgies.’

...
You wish you would’ve written less.

’TV- Not sure. Takeaway: Drink alcohol together. Play Scrabble. Purposefully talk up your sex life around Anon in the hopes that he’ll call your bluff later in the bedroom.’

You like pretty much all of those, to varying degrees.
Scrabble is fun.
You’d probably mess up that last one, and it’s not really even capable of coming into play until after he’s already yours, so not helpful as things stand.

Your eyes drift almost cautiously over the latest edition you’d hastefully scribbled into your chart. Cadence… hadn’t been mean, no. But she had been blunt. That bluntness hurt. You had no choice but to listen the first time around. Nopony would know if you just… Didn’t think about her words again.

So you don’t.

You don’t read them for a long time.

This train wouldn’t reach the Rock Farm till morning, after all.

Plenty of time to stare at the other entries, flip through past pages, even stare longingly at the increasingly arid landscape as those fantasies you held so dear played on repeat in your head.

Escaping from the truth.

When the heat is on, you waver.

You melt.

In that quiet, empty train car, nopony hears your turmoil. You cry, and heave, and wish you didn’t need to do this. Wish you had been born a stronger, more sure pony. A pony like Rainbow, who could put her mind to a task and face it down no matter what. A pony like Twilight, who simply chose to not pursue a suitor out of her higher calling in life. Or Rarity, or Applejack, or Pinkie, or anypony else stronger than you.

You hate Anon.

Hate what he does to you.

He doesn’t even know how he changed you.

He doesn’t even know how much you love him.

You’ve been somepony else this whole time. A shadow of Fluttershy, knocking on his door every morning and dancing like a puppet. You don’t need to read Cadence’s words, though you do anyway.

’PC- Not sure. Takeaway: Two islands will never get closer to each other unless one moves first. I want foals. I want love. Be Fluttershy.’

A weak, poorly written jumble of nonsense that’d read as insane to anypony with sense, and now pocked with teardrops to boot. You didn’t need to write them down. They'd been echoing in your mind for hours now. Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight, but the rhythmic rocking of the cabin works eventually. The sun wakes you up first, and the train chugs to a stop soon enough.

Anon must think himself lucky.

He wouldn’t be getting a visit this morning.

It’s a quiet walk to the farm.

Though there was the train station, one could only see the Rock Farm as an irregular bulge close to the horizon.

Fine by you.

You weren’t in a rush.

A breeze howls through these so commonly windswept plains– stray gusts from the San Palomino Desert. They weaken considerably by the time they reach here, their path broken up by many jagged outcroppings of earth speared upward from the ground; themselves not quite mountains, but more like fragments of some ancient dragon’s cracked jewelry. The fear of that comparison isn’t lost on you. Your emotions still weigh heavy over your heart.

This was tiring, stupid business.

But you were here now, so thoughts of your distant bed and warm, loving hands weren’t worth thinking on. The sliding of loose gravel under your hooves feels dangerous, as if this whole land were moments away from crumbling into a great sinkhole below. Pegasus, though you might be- you’ve felt the fear of falling before.

And you hadn’t acted then, either.

It’s a quiet walk to the farm.

She didn’t come by today.

It shouldn’t alarm you.

It shouldn’t make you nervous.

Still– you find yourself lingering by the door as you pass it throughout the morning. Did she finally take the hint?

... Doubtful.

She must be planning something; might’ve been an emergency at the cottage. Or been in an accident herself. Whatever the reason, it’s not your problem. You cross your arms and stubbornly try to stand by this train of thought, sitting on the couch and pretending you felt relaxed.

Seconds tick by, and the silence of your home brings with it no relief.

...

You’re out the door before you can kick your feet up on the coffee table.

No sign of her at the cottage.

You stand before a meandering flock of geese near Fluttershy’s pond, looming over them with crossed arms like they ought to know what you’re looking for. You’re not about to try communicating with waterfowl, so your impatient display will have to do.

”Honk.”

They’ll crack eventually.

A big one ducks its head below the water, before popping back up and shaking stray droplets all over your shoes. They’re tough cookies, gotta give ‘em that.

“... Fucking- okay. Where’s Fluttershy.”

One of the babies turns its head to you.

”Honk.”

You’re an idiot, Anon.

”Hail thee, I quote: ‘Number-One-Best-Friend-Of-Rainbow-Dash-Champion-Holder-Eighteen-Years-In-A-Row,’ I am Igneous Rock. Thou does not go by this previously mentioned moniker, I suspect, and therefore will henceforth deem to address thou by given maiden name, Miss Fluttershy, lest thou decree against this. Though welcome presently as kin of mine own sireage, curiosity beg mine asking: By what pretense draw ye unto our family’s Celestia-given homestead?”

You blink.

Silence reigns.

You blink again.

Igneous Rock continues to stare, seemingly unfazed by your lack of response.

“Do… Do I have the wrong house?”

You know you don’t– but this just doesn’t seem possible.

”Perhaps, forsooth, thou do. If thou hast not come in search of the Pie family, then thou hast indeed come unto erroneous hearth.”

It’s possible.

By Celestia, how did Pinkie never mention this. How is Pinkie… even Pinkie.

“... N-no, I am, um, looking for the Pie residence. Here, I mean.”

Igneous continues his seemingly bored staring. ”Then, hark. My kin currently are at work, harvesting that which is struck from the earth. However, due to current auspicious happenstance, I will deem it proper to call them from their toil to sup morning’s meal early. Please make way, Miss Fluttershy.”

Still unable to believe the sight, you follow the stallion’s every move as he, with slow poise unmatched by anypony you’d ever seen, meticulously makes his way to a nearby bell. It is rung exactly three times, and, after a minute spent in silence, three figures appear from a distant quarry. They each keep their gait slow, though it’s obvious which among them moves as Igneous does. You’d seen pictures of Pinkie’s other sisters, though you hadn’t seen her mother or father. Limestone and Marble, you can identify, and the third among them, you assume must be their mother. If Pinkie had ever told you her name, you did not remember it.

In time, on their own time, the trio come to meet you.

”Fair welcome, I quote: ‘Number-One-Best-Friend-Of-Rainbow-Dash-Champion-’ “

“J-just Fluttershy will suffice.”

The mare with a tight bun stares for a moment, before nodding chastely. ”Indeed. Fair welcome, Miss Fluttershy. I am Cloudy Quartz. These are but two of our four daughters, Limestone Pie and Marble Pie. Thou hast long since known both Pinkamena Diane Pie and Maud Pie, as I oft have been informed by Pinkamena’s letters from your town of Ponyville. Please, daughters, do give Miss Fluttershy proper greeting whilst I venture to question father on his early ringing.”

Limestone gives you a mumbled greeting, before catching on and spitting the small pic from her mouth.

”Hey.”

Marble, on the other hand, gives only but a mumbled greeting.

”Mmh.”

“U-umm… H-hark to, to thoust both, gentle… mares.”

Cloudy’s head snaps to you, and Igneous’ eyes go wide.

“Eep! I’msorry.” You whisper, flinching in place.

” ‘Tis no issu-”

Cloudy cuts off her husband. ”Thou may speaketh as we if thou so chooseth, please, forgive mine sudden arousal at thy words. I did not know thou were one of our own, truly.”

Limestone rolls her eyes, moving past you to get inside. ”You don’t need to talk like that, Miss Fluttershy. I don’t know why they do it either.”

Even Marble nods her head, still not choking out more than a peep, before following close behind her big sister. You swap your sight between the two groups breaking apart, unsure of what to do next.

”Cloudy Quartz, dearest wife mine, I have rung the bell out of the occasion of having Miss Fluttershy’s visitation. I believe it necessary to celebrate with break fast early.”

If you didn’t know any better, Cloudy and Igneous were in a very intense staring contest.

But both parties were also seemingly very bored.

”Thoust made the proper decision, husband Igneous Rock.” Appeased, Cloudy turns back to you. ”Miss Fluttershy, thou must ache with hunger, after traversal of such that is in pursuit of our homestead. Please, enter and join us for a meal.”

Indeed, you certainly did ache with hunger. The thought hadn’t even struck you until now. All you had eaten yesterday was breakfast and a bit of popcorn after nightfall. Drive can… get in the way of things, it seems.

Rock soup, while visually unappetizing, isn’t something to knock before trying. You tip your third serving to your mouth, sputtering a bit as the lump of rock bumps against your upper lip– still not quite used to the mechanics. It’s a… drab mood, not to be rude. All tend to their own bowls of soup chastely, with Igneous dolling out refills with a ladle on standby as his daughters finish their portions.

Not often are you the one to break the silence.

“So… I cometh to thy, um, humble abode out of desire to- to plea for advice.”

Cloudy shifts her eyes up from her meal, dabbing at her lips with a tablecloth before speaking. ”Thoust come far, seeking only advice. Please, share thine plea so that we may assist.” If Cloudy was judging your poor imitation of her family’s mannerisms, she hid it well under her monotone veil. Would… Would they be upset if you told them? Pinkie’s parents seem rather conservative, to say the least.

You may need to tread carefully here.

“Mine conundrum is such: The suitor this heart pines for is… n-not returning mine affections. I’ve tried in many different ways to make him see the lengths of my longing, but alas. I-if there’s any hope at all for success, I cannot… yield it without the aid of others. So if I may be so bold to ask, how is it you found love with Mr. Igneous Rock?”

Unceremoniously, each pony’s bowl finds it’s way back down to the table.

If things were quiet before, well, they’re silent now.

Oh my.

Cloudy’s disposition doesn’t break, if that’s at all a good sign. ”Once, two families called this land home. We tilled our fields nearer and nearer until our rocks becameth theirs, and so too did this family.”

Igneous nods. ”Indeed. Mine family’s patriarch found it proper to consolidate, and just as the sedimentary conglomerate binds in the riverbed, it was made so.”

Limestone rolls her eyes, returning her soup.

“... Gosh, that’d make things easier on my- er, mine end.”

Cloudy’s ears fold back ever so slightly for a moment, no doubt due to your flagrant exclamation. ”Pardon. Reminiscing on such carnal pleasures has myself betwixt with emotion. I will return.” Cloudy excuses herself into another room, never once showing any tell that she’d actually felt anything at all.

Igneous too seems to feel that same ‘heat,’ his eyes falling shut as his wife exits the dining room.

... That is to say, up until he thinks her out of earshot.

”S-she’s a monster in bed. It’s brutal.”

Limestone chokes on her soup, the wooden bowl spilling over the table.

“W-whuh…”

”Yeah, I mean, gosh, yeah. She goes ballistic.”

Igneous’ whole disposition changes- the once calm, grim stallion whispering out his secrets like a guilty sinner before a Priest. ”I-I don’t even know where she came from. I was just farming the rocks like always, I blink– and we have four foals. I mean, you can’t explain that.”

You chance a look to his daughters, and you find their eyes too meet yours, surely looking for some sort of guidance.

I-is this your fault?

This is your fault.

Igneous continues, almost shaking as he hunches over the table, breaking many unspoken rules of dining decorum. ”A-and the talking thing? I-I don’t know why she likes it, but oh my Celestia she nearly kills me after dinner each night. How we don’t have an army farming these quarries, I can’t tell you but–”

Cloudy returns through the doorway, looking no different.

You feel dirty.

Like you need to brush your teeth.

Just like that, the clock is reset.

Igneous doesn’t even clear his throat.

Silence reigns yet again.

Nopony seems keen on eating anymore.

Well, except for Cloudy.

”Hast thou taken thine fill? Thou may stay with us for the night, but if that was all thine heart sought, one would believe thou return home should be taken with a lined gut.”

“I-I’m stuffed.”

You spot the tiniest downward curl upon the matriarch’s lip as her eyes return to her broth. It’s small, but it’s there.

Poor Igneous.

What have you done to Limestone and Marble.

They’ll never look at their parents the same way again.

“Har- ck!!”

That ‘hark’ may have come out a bit more like a cough. You hope Cloudy doesn’t think you’re a quitter.

“I-if I may, um, get back on track: I always just seem to… to stumble when I’m around my suitor. I just can’t take the pressure, or my head gets all… crazy…”

So too do you stumble to find the words that might define your emotions. Yet again, you do yourself no favors, even when outright begging for help. ”I just can’t get it right. I always melt. Now my fear is: Have I dug myself too deep? Even if I knew the trick to win Anon’s heart; he’s given me so many chances and I’ve blown every single one. What if he’s just waiting me out? It’s… it’s so easy to say no, and– and so hard to throw myself at his door every day, and– ooh… I’m rambling…”

Sure, tell them the same thing you’ve told all the others. This will be another bust of a visit, just like with Hondo and Cookie. Just like with all the families, in fact. You’ve learned nothing– there’s been no eureka. A sad march across Equestria is all; embarrassing yourself in front of parental figures. Your voice trails off and you wallow in the glum expression you see in the traces of broth that fill your bowl. It’s rippling doesn’t make you feel any better. As if you hadn’t managed to ruin the Pie family’s breakfast enough: Crying at the table surely must seal the deal.

”... I admit, thoust not the mare I assumed, and shame on me for the forwardness to do as such.”

You peer up from your sulking.

Cloudy Quartz meets your woes not with confusion or spite, oddly enough. Shame upon thou for ye own forwardness.

”From mine readings of ‘Mothers and Fathers of The Elements of Harmony Penpals;’ and Husband Igneous and mineself’s discussions on said readings thereafter: We were of the shared thought that thoust be a pony of exceeding courage and fortitude,” Cloudy idly repositions her bowl, making it inline with the other bowls on the table. ”Our own reared Pinkamena Diane Pie hast time and time again heralded similar assurances on thine character, and yet; I see not that mare before me.”

Ouch, though correct.

The Pie matriarch taps a hoof to her lip. ”And yet, my mind does struggle to define the veal of a mare otherwise, who’d venture so wide across Equestrian plains for but matters of family. None forced ye, but thy fears be damned, thoust still present thineself before those who are none but strangers to thee, and bare thine aching heart all the same on matters so dear– pining for the assured virgin Anon's hoof.”

Her eyes fall closed, and Celestia as your witness, you swear you can just barely make out the twinges of a knowing smirk on her lips.

”Thoust say thou ‘melts,’ but I ask just this: Why then have ye not yet melted before ourselves? Tears, so be it; ye still remain at mine table. I see loyalty, devotion, and honor before me. Nothing less. Ye, who, by Pinkamena’s own words: ‘Stared at a big scary ancient dragon until he exploded into a big weepy baby?’ “

Limestone remarks “you exploded a dragon!?”

Cloudy resumes before you can explain that no exploding was involved.

”Further: ‘Personally lead the charge of a super-duper tired army of pegasi to funnel water all the way up to Cloudsdale?’ If thou consider these feats as failures, I cannot but wonder how you define success.”

Your wings begin to fold around you as you retreat behind your mane, so that your blush might be hidden. “G-gosh… I didn’t know Pinkie wrote so much about me…”

Igneous chirps up “she and Maud are the scholars of our family.”

Limestone rolls her eyes.

Readying her final punch, Cloudy starts herself again.

”How then, since thou now standeth before us, can’t these fears that grip ye so tightly be all but thoust mind rebelling against thineself? Because the mare I see before me may stumble, as we are all w’ont to do sometime or another, but ne’er will she fall.”

To your utter shock, Cloudy again rises from her seat, but this time she comes to you. Her gait remains measured, her tone unchanged; but here she is now, gently cupping a hoof to your cheek in support.

”This mare, of whom I’ve heard only cheers and praises lauded following utterance of her name, how can she not hear that which all ponies who possess the good fortune to witness her proclaim? How can she not see the thanks upon their faces?”

”Hark, there’s great fire within thee, Fluttershy. Perhaps it burns bright enough that ye mistake it for melting.”

... Damn anypony who’d cock their head or turn up their snout at the Pie Family’s vernacular. You throw yourself around Cloudy’s neck, wrap her in a bear hug fit for Harry, and just sob. You sob for a long while, and you don’t care. All the while, Cloudy Quartz returns your affection, whispering sweet archaic lullabies into your mane as you weep. You don’t care how far away they live, you’d be visiting the Rock Farm again soon.

Author's Note

Two mommas left to go, yeah?