“This one’s wrong,” Maud said in her usual monotone, pointing a hoof at the scribbled character I’d been agonizing, one of many over for the past two hours. “You forgot the tail at the end—here.”

Without missing a beat, she grabbed the pen in her mouth and added a small, deliberate flourish to the character. Her movements were precise, almost surgical. I leaned in, squinting at the adjustment, then glanced at my cheat sheet for what had to be the hundredth time.

“Why does it need a tail? There isn’t one on this sheet,” I asked, my tone slipping toward frustration.

Maud turned her calm gaze to the sheet, scrutinizing it for a moment before turning back to me.

“This is different,” she said, “The ‘k’ sound is written differently depending on the subject. In this case, the ‘k’ in ‘rock’ needs a tail because rock is a tangible object, not an incorporeal concept.”

“So, the same character changes depending on the subject?” I asked, incredulous.

“Yes.”

Oh god. This was so much harder than I’d thought it would be.

It had been a few days since my welcome party, and I now found myself hoof-deep in learning the Equestrian language under Maud’s methodical—and painfully precise—tutorship. To say it wasn’t going well would be putting it kindly. I’d expected a challenge, but this? This felt like trying to read ancient runes while blindfolded.

“This is basic stuff,” Limestone chimed in from her side of the table. She lounged there, head propped up on a hoof, wearing the most infuriatingly smug grin I’d ever seen. “I learned this when I was a filly just starting school.”

“Well, excuse me, Miss Know-It-All,” I shot back. “I don’t speak horse.”

Thwack!

A sharp thwap landed on the top of my head, courtesy of a rolled-up newspaper expertly wielded by Cloudy Quartz. I yelped—a completely masculine and not-at-all-adorable squeak, mind you—and instinctively rubbed the sore spot.

“What did I say about offensive language, dearie?” Cloudy scolded, her tone firm but not unkind. “No ‘whorse’ talk under my roof.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Technically,” Maud said beside me, “you are already speaking it. You’re just illiterate.”

I blinked. Then shot her a look.

“Wow. Thanks, Maud. That makes me feel so much better.”

”Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Limestone biting her lip, her shoulders trembling as she tried—and failed—to stifle her laughter. Her poorly concealed amusement only made my cheeks burn hotter.

“And what are ye doin’ here, honey?” Cloudy asked, turning her gaze toward Limestone with a pointed look. “Don’t ye have anythin’ more productive to be doin’? If ye’re here for Oblivion, I think yer snugglin’ at night gives ye plenty of time with him already.”

Maud gave a small, matter-of-fact nod, as if Cloudy’s statement was the most reasonable thing in the world. Limestone, on the other hoof, turned a deep shade of crimson.

“Mom!” she sputtered, her voice an octave higher than usual.

“What?” Cloudy asked innocently, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just sayin’. I’m glad ye’ve found yerself a colt to keep company with, but ponies need their sleep, Limestone. And yer nightly activities ain’t exactly subtle if ye catch my meanin’.”

Limestone’s jaw dropped, and her blush deepened to the point where I worried she might actually change the color of her coat permanently. “Oh, for Celestia’s sake, Mom!”

Cloudy continued with an innocent shrug, though her sly smile betrayed her. “I was a young mare once too, ye know. And I wasn’t always the picture of innocence either. Why, before I met yer father, I’d go out and—”

“Okay, I’m out!” Limestone cut her off, leaping to her hooves and bolting from the room. “See you guys later!”

Cloudy watched her daughter disappear down the hall, then turned her attention to Maud with a playful glint in her eyes.

“What about ye, Maud? Want to hear about yer mother’s exploits in her prime?”

“No, thank you,” Maud replied flatly, rising from her seat with her usual unhurried grace. “It’s almost time for Boulder’s walk.” She turned to me, her expression as unreadable as ever. “Your tutoring session is over. Good job.”

“Uh… thanks?” I managed, still reeling from the chaos.

“You’re welcome.” With that, Maud gave the faintest of nods and trotted out of the room—faster than I’d ever seen her before.

That left just me and Cloudy. The silence hung in the air for a moment before she turned her warm, knowing smile on me.

“I… think I’m gonna head outside too,” I said awkwardly, inching toward the door.

“A moment, Oblivion.”

Her tone stopped me in my tracks. I froze mid-step, then slowly turned to face her. “Yes…?”

“Oh, don’t make that face,” she said with a chuckle. “I’m not gonna torture ye with scandalous stories of my youth—though it be a neat trick for clearin’ out a room.”

I exhaled in relief, but her tone shifted slightly, taking on a more serious note.

“No, that be not what I wanted to talk about,” Cloudy said, her expression softening as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. Then, with a sincerity that caught me off guard, she said, “Truth be, I owe you thanks.”

I blinked twice, her words hanging in the air, refusing to register for a long, bewildering moment. When they finally did, I couldn’t keep the confusion from showing on my face.

“Thanks? For what?”

Her chuckle was soft, carrying a hint of amused patience, as if she’d anticipated my reaction. “For makin’ Limestone happy.”

“Oh… um.” The words caught me completely off guard, and heat immediately rose to my face. I stammered, fumbling for a response. “That’s… I don’t think I can take credit for that.”

“Ye can,” she said firmly, her gaze steady. “And ye should. There be nothin’ a mother cherishes more than seein’ her foals happy. And ye—” She leaned in ever so slightly, her voice dropping to something softer, yet no less sincere. “Ye’re makin’ my filly happy.”

If my cheeks weren’t red before, they definitely were now. The warmth spreading to the tips of my ears as I fumbled for words, my tongue tripping over itself. Though, the guilt quickly crashed it all away.

“I—”

Cloudy held up a hoof, silencing me with a gentle yet decisive gesture. “I know,” she said, her tone softening while maintaining its conviction. “Ye’re not stayin’. But that doesn’t undo the good ye’ve done. Sometimes, it be the right now that matters.”

Is it?

I broke eye contact, looking away. I appreciated her words, really, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t quite deserve them. Shaking my head, I pushed the thoughts aside and focused on something I’d been meaning to say.

“Well… if you’re thanking me for that, then I should be thanking you too—for letting me crash here. For… letting a stranger into your home.”

Cloudy waved a hoof dismissively, though her eyes softened. “Oh, that be nothin’, dearie. Anypony would’ve done the same.”

I shook my head. “No. No, it’s not nothing. You didn’t have to, but you did. And I want to show my gratitude properly.”

Before she could object, I reached for the side bag resting on the table—the one I’d been given in Canterlot as compensation—and took out the small pouch of bits. Gripping it firmly, I extended it toward her.

She blinked, her gaze shifting to the pouch, her brow furrowing slightly. “What be this?”

“My thanks,” I said simply. “For everything.”

Her eyes widened slightly in realization, and she shook her head firmly, pushing the pouch back toward me. “Bits? Pfah. Ye think I’m runnin’ a hostel? No, no. Ye don’t have to pay me. That be not why I did it.”

“But—”

“But nothin’,” Cloudy snorted softly, a touch of exasperation in the sound. “Ye’re still a colt in my eyes. Save yer gold for whatever trials ye’re gallopin’ into next.”

I hesitated, my troubled expression apparently not lost on her. She offered a knowing smile, her tone lightening as she added, “Oblivion, ye wanna repay me? Live. Find yer way back home. And when ye do…” She grinned. “Write Limestone first. Or I’ll hunt ye down and tell ye all about my naughty adventures from my youth, hm?”

The teasing glint in her eyes made me chuckle nervously. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep the bits. No need to threaten me for it.” I paused, glancing back at her with a small, genuine smile. “Thanks.”

She beamed at me, the warmth in her expression practically tangible. “That be no problem, honey.”

I glanced down at the small rock resting on my hoof, spinning it absently to the right, watching it slow before reversing it to the left. The rhythm was calming, mindless. My gaze shifted toward the horizon, where the sun was dipping below the mountains, painting the sky in hues of gold and amber.

With a small flick, I sent the rock sailing through the air, watching as it arced against the fading light before disappearing into the distance.

The soft sound of approaching hoofsteps drew my ears back. I didn’t turn, my eyes still on the sunset.

“You gonna stare a hole in that horizon, or what?” Limestone’s voice, rough but familiar, broke the quiet.

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my tone light. “Trying. Work in progress, in fact.”

“Uh-huh, scooch.”

I shifted slightly to my right to make room. She didn’t hesitate, settling beside me on top the small hill with a quite huff as she got comfortable. Limestone’s eyes lingered on the sunset, but I could feel her sneaking glances at me from the corner of her vision.

“Nice view, huh?” she said, her voice unusually soft.

I smirked. “I am pretty good-looking, aren’t I?”

Her sigh was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “Still full of it, I see.”

“Takes one to know one,” I shot back, glancing at her with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah…” she muttered, her lips twitching into a small smile before she grew quiet again. She stared out at the horizon, her voice barely above a whisper when she spoke. “I’m gonna miss this. These moments with you.”

My smile faltered at her words, and I turned my attention back to the sunset. “Yeah… me too.”

“You’ll write me, right?”

“What?” I asked, looking at her.

“Letters,” she said, her tone insistent but a bit awkward. “You know, so I’ll know you’re not lost or in trouble or… whatever.”

“Uh, sure,” I replied, scratching the back of my neck. “But my writing’s still pretty terrible.”

She grinned, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Yeah, I know. Your chicken scratch is awful, and it’ll probably take me a week to figure out what you’re trying to say, but it’s better than nothing.”

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. “Alright, I’ll write you.”

“You better.” Limestone dropped her head to rest lightly against my side, her gaze fixed on the sunset.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy or awkward. This time, with her pressed against me, it felt calm—warm, even.

“I have first dibs,” she said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“Dibs on what?” I glanced at her.

She turned her head slightly, her expression unusually serious. “On you. So no chasing other mares without my say-so. They need my approval first.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Real funny.”

“Oblivion, that’s not a joke.”

Her tone made me pause. I turned to look at her fully, my brow furrowing in confusion. Limestone was staring straight at me, her eyes locked onto mine. There was no mirth in them, no trace of her usual teasing.

“I’m… not sure I follow,” I admitted, the confusion in my tone genuine.

Limestone’s expression hardened, her jaw tightening as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Herds, Oblivion. You do know what a herd is, right?”

I blinked. “Like... the thing with sheep and cows or something?”

Her deadpan stare made me feel like I’d just said something incredibly stupid. After a beat, she let out a short, exasperated sigh, rubbing her temple with a hoof. “Yes. That. But for ponies. A group of mares sharing a stallion. Building a family together.”

Her words took a moment to sink in, my brain working overtime to process them. “Uh… well, in my world, some animals form herds, sure. But not really… people.”

Limestone tilted her head, her brows furrowing in surprise. “Wait. Really? You don’t have herds for, like, your… uh, what do you call them? ‘People’?”

“Nope,” I replied, shaking my head lightly. “Humans don’t… do that. Usually, it’s just one partner. Sometimes none. Sometimes more, but that’s… complicated.”

She stared at me, her expression flickering from shock to something softer. Sad, even. “So your ‘human’ mares… they just… end up alone?”

I gave a half-shrug. “Not alone. There are plenty of men. Like, half the population.”

Limestone’s ears perked at that, but her confusion only deepened. “‘Men’? What’s that?”

“Oh, sorry. I mean stallions,” I clarified.

Her reaction was immediate, her eyes going wide. “What?!” she burst out, her hoof slicing through the air for emphasis. “Half? Half?! You’re saying you’ve got a stallion for every mare? Just… wandering around? Unclaimed?”

“‘Unclaimed’?” I repeated, taken aback by the choice of words. “Uh, I wouldn’t exactly call it that—wait, hold on. How bad is the ratio here?”

Limestone gave me a flat look, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oblivion, I’ve got three sisters. You’ve seen the way Mom treats you like you’re some prize rock that fell out of the sky. And we’re rock farmers. You think we’re flooded with options? Do the math.”

I raised my hooves defensively. “Okay, okay, I thought that was just because you were isolated! Like, you know, living out here and all. Not because… stallions are rare or something…”

Now that I thought about it, the lack of stallions at that Canterlot wedding suddenly made a lot more sense. At the time, I’d figured stallions just weren’t into weddings, but apparently, there just weren’t as many of them around in the first place.

“But… your parents—Igneous and Cloudy. They’re just… two?”

Limestone snorted, her lips twitching like she was holding back a laugh. “Dad’s about as romantic as gravel, and Mom’s the only mare stubborn enough to put up with him and his lifestyle. They’re an exception, not the rule.” She hesitated, glancing away for a moment. Her voice softened, losing some of its edge. “Look, ‘couples’ like that—just one stallion and one mare—they can exist. But… some ponies consider them… selfish.”

“Selfish?” I echoed, my brows knitting together. “Why?”

“Because there aren’t enough stallions to go around,” she explained, her tone matter-of-fact but laced with a quiet frustration. “When a stallion ties himself to just one mare, it’s like she’s hoarding something valuable. Meanwhile, other mares go without. It’s not a great look if you’re not rich or powerful enough to justify it.”

I stared at her, the concept she was explaining sounding as alien as I had felt when I first set foot in this world. It was logical in its own strange way, a system that seemed to make sense on paper. But living in it? That was something else entirely.

“What about same-sex couples?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “Like… a mare with another mare, or a stallion with another stallion? Is that a thing here?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Wow, you really weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t know anything, huh?” She leaned back slightly, fixing me with a bemused look. “A herd made up of just mares? Happens all the time. Usually, they’re just waiting to find a stallion to join in. No one gets upset about it—there’s enough mares to go around.”

“And stallion couples?” I pressed.

Her expression shifted, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face before she spoke. “They exist, yeah. But… they’re usually part of a herd too. Like, tied down together with mares. So they can still, y’know…” She gestured vaguely. “Have foals.”

I blinked, processing that. “That’s… something.”

Limestone shrugged, her tone flat. “That’s life.”

I let out a slow breath, my mind reeling as I tried to absorb everything she’d just told me. My world’s norms felt like a distant dream compared to this strange reality. After a beat of silence, I glanced at her again, my thoughts circling back to her earlier words. “So when you said not to chase any other mare without your approval… you really meant it.”

“Yes,” she replied without missing a beat.

I winced. “Limestone. I’m not going to chase after anypony. I’m trying to go home. That’s my priority.”

“And how long is that going to take?” she shot back, her gaze narrowing. “You may be an alien, but you’re still working with a pony’s body now, Oblivion. You’ve got instincts, just like the rest of us.”

“I can handle myself,” I muttered, but the words lacked conviction even as they left my mouth.

Limestone smirked knowingly, the expression both frustrating and unnervingly accurate. “You think you can, but wait until those mares in Ponyville catch wind of the little lost stallion wandering around without a herd. They’ll come for you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Come for me?”

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a pointed tone. “You’ll be courted, Oblivion. Whether you like it or not. And eventually?” She jabbed a hoof at my chest. “You’ll give in. Maybe not right away. But it’ll happen. Your instincts will catch up to you, and you’ll break. You’re not as different as you think.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat. A part of me wanted to tell her she was wrong—that I wasn’t going to let anypony get the better of me. But, well… case in point: I’d already, so to speak, done the deed with Limestone... multiple times at that. She was the first mares to ‘court’ me.

And, yeah… the sex was good.

Too good.

I wasn’t disgusted by a mare’s body. Far from it. It was like some switch in my brain had flipped, subtly rewiring my preferences to fit this world. And it wasn’t just that—it was everything. Words I’d never used back home, like anypony or swapping hand for hoof, were creeping into my vocabulary without a second thought.

It didn’t scare me, exactly. But it did make me… wary. Integration was one thing, but how far did it go? Was this world rewriting me? Was home even something I could fully return to? And if I did—would women even register to me the same way anymore?

A darker thought lingered at the edges of my mind. The theory that none of this was real. That everything I did, everything I would ever do, was just part of some kind of story. That it was all meaningless.

But that wasn’t the kind of thought I wanted to have. Not now.

I shook off the thought as best I could. “Okay,” I said finally, my tone cautious. “So if some mare decides she’s into me—”

“When,” Limestone interrupted, deadpan.

I gave her a flat look. “If. And let’s say I… reciprocate. Even though I’ve got you. I just—what? Shoot you a letter like, ‘Hey, mind if I shack up with Maple Sugar? P.S. Miss you’?” My laugh came out brittle. “Limestone, I’m leaving. I won’t… I can’t string you or anypony else along while I chase some way back home. That’s not fair to you. To us.

Limestone sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly, but her eyes stayed on mine. “Oblivion, I’m not asking for fair.” Her voice softened, almost hesitant. “I’m not rich, or powerful, and I don’t want to be the reason some mare misses out on love. Hay, I’ll still try to visit you when I can. But if I’m not here, and you find a mare out there who keeps you warm while I can’t…”

Her hoof brushed mine—a tremor in it. “Just… tell me first. So I know it’s because you really love her and not… not because you’re replacing me.”

I kept my gaze steady on her, watching as she tried to mask the vulnerability that slipped through. Gently, I took both her hooves into mine, making her look up at me.

“Okay,” I said, my voice soft. “If it ever happens, I’ll wait for your approval first. I Pinkie Promise.”

Her worried expression melted away, replaced by a relieved smile. Without a word, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. It wasn’t long or deep—just enough to leave my chest feeling warm.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her muzzle brushing against mine.

“That’s cheating,” I muttered.

She grinned mischievously. “And? What are you gonna do about it, hmm?” Her hoof traced slow circles against my chest, her touch light but teasing.

I smirked. “This.”

Before she could say another word, I tackled her, a surprised yelp escaping her as we both tumbled off the hill. I wrapped my arms around her, keeping our fall slow and controlled, while making sure she couldn’t move as we rolled together. We landed softly in the field below.

“Oblivion!” Limestone gasped, pinned beneath me. “What the hay was that for?!”

I smirked down at her, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. “Taking care of my instincts.”

She barely had time to scoff before I silenced her protests with a fierce kiss.

You don’t really think about what you own until you have to pack it all up. Turns out, I didn’t have much. Just the same side bag I’d carried back to Canterlot and a blanket Cloudy had gifted me—soft, well-worn, and smelling faintly of the Rock Farm. That was it. Everything I owned was strapped to me as I stood on the train platform, waiting for my ride to Ponyville.

I wasn’t alone. The entire Pie family was there, even Igneous.

Pinkie was a wreck, bawling her eyes out as she clung to each family member in turn, showering them with nuzzles and tearful goodbyes. Maud stood beside her, patting her back in that calm, steady way of hers, while Marble shyly handed over a small gift—what looked like a rock candy necklace. Pinkie took one look at it and immediately started crying even harder.

Honestly? It was kind of adorable. Even Igneous cracked the faintest smile at the scene, while Cloudy busied herself fussing over Pinkie, making sure she had everything she needed.

I’d already gone through my own round of goodbyes a few minutes ago—hugs all around, except for Igneous, because I valued my life—and now there was just one pony left.

Limestone.

I glanced at her. “You’ve got a good family. I’m gonna miss them.”

I’m gonna miss you.

She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated on them. And I’ll tell them how you’re doing too.” Her voice softened. “And don’t make that face. I will visit when I can.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good.” She hesitated, then nudged me lightly. “And don’t forget the letters.”

I snorted. “You’ve drilled that into me enough the past few days. I won’t forget.”

“Just making sure,” she said, but there was something else in her voice.

I met her gaze. “Hard to forget when it’s for you.”

She flushed slightly, nudging my leg as if to brush off the moment. But she didn’t look away. The silence stretched between us, until the tension became too much and, before I could think better of it, my mouth moved on its own.

“…Yeah,” I muttered. “I guess it’s a goodbye, then.”

She let out a heavy sigh, “Sweet Celestia, you can be dense at the worst times.”

“Wha—”

Before I could finish, she grabbed me by the back of my neck and kissed me. Right there. In front of her whole family.

Shock hit me first—quick and sharp—before instinct took over, and I leaned into it, pressing back. I didn’t know how long it lasted, only that it wasn’t enough.

She was the one to pull away first, breathless, her forehead still close to mine as she opened her eyes and met my gaze.

“That’s how you do it.” A slow, satisfied grin tugged at her lips. “See you soon, stud.”

Author's Note

Here you go!

This chapter marks the end of what I would consider the first arc of the story! Yay! The next arc will focus more on the Mane 6 and Ponyville as a whole, so I hope you're excited for it!

Thanks for reading!

Ta-Ta!