“Welcome, Maud. I have laid out the blanket already, and ensured that it will stay flat.”
Maud trotted over to where Mudbriar sat, admiring how the crisp edge of the blanket looked like a bedding plane between the strata of cloth and grass. In front of him sat two small piles of sticks and pebbles, and in the distance, a family flew a kite shaped like a large fish.
“I brought bread and jam,” she said, after depositing her small basket on the blanket and settling down on its other side. Her eyes drifted to the piles again. “Did you find any interesting sticks?”
She liked listening to Mudbriar talk about sticks. It reminded her of her roctoral studies, back when everypony she talked to was as interested in rocks as her.
Mudbriar gently picked up the small pile of stones and deposited them in easy reach of her before selecting one stick in particular to show. “This one is from an oak tree–most likely the one we currently are sitting beneath–and has a quite pleasing shape.”
The stick in question forked about halfway down its length, the left fork continuing mostly straight, the right one bending around at a slight angle. Maud considered it. “It looks similar to some veins of darker sedimentation in the wall near my home.”
She could invite him to come see it, but from past experience, other ponies–particularly male ones–would read things into her words that she hadn’t said if she did that. “I will take a picture and bring it next time.”
“I would like to see it.”
Silence rose gently between them as Maud turned her attention to the small pile of stones. From a brief initial inspection, they appeared to all be common smooth pebbles, similar to the ones near the river. One in particular, though, was almost exactly the same size as Boulder.
Being with Mudbriar was … restful. She appreciated that about him.
“The weather is pleasant today.”
Maud looked up, Boulder and the river stone each carefully balanced in a hoof. “Yes. The clouds are–” she turned her gaze further up, to be greeted by an entirely cloudless sky. “–elsewhere, today.”
Mudbriar nodded as though he had not seen anything strange about her attempt at recovery. “Your mane and tail are looking well-groomed.”
“The nice thing about having a gray coat is that the rock dust shows up less obviously.”
“I believe that there would still be a noticeable difference in texture–”
“That was a joke.”
“Oh. Ha ha.”
Maud considered the evidence. Mudbriar was acting somewhat unusual, and now that she looked at him, he also appeared well-groomed. It was not uncommon to see him with a stick or several in his mane or tail, but she could see none now. And he usually paid no attention to the weather, nor had he commented on her appearance in their prior interactions. “Is this a date?” she asked, trying to ignore the pit opening in her stomach.
“Technically, a meeting should only be considered a date if all ponies involved believe it to be such,” Mudbriar said. “... But I would like it to be a date. If you also would.”
Ah. That was unfortunate. She had been enjoying his company, and she knew this conversation would end as it always did.
“I am uninterested in intimacy,” Maud said. Usually that was enough.
Mudbriar tilted his head slightly. “Technically, there are multiple types of intimacy, such as emotional and physical. Are you uninterested in all of them, or only a certain subset?”
“I do not wish to mate with you.” Maud clarified. Considered. That could be interpreted in a different fashion than she intended. “Or with anyone else.”
“I would not wish to mate with someone on a first date, either,” Mudbriar said. “I certainly did not intend to imply that we should.”
This was always so awkward to explain. But she had learned the first time that it was far better to get it over with sooner rather than later. “I do not have any interest in mating, regardless of the point in the relationship.”
“Ah. Thank you for the clarification. That is a constraint I would be happy to abide by.”
That was new, and raised new thoughts entirely. Thoughts that Maud had tried very hard to avoid. She knew how getting unduly interested in her friends turned out, too.
Mudbriar frowned slightly. “My apologies. Are you ‘letting me down gently’? I do not mean to push if my interest is entirely unwanted.”
“It’s–not unwanted,” Maud admitted. “I simply find it important to establish certain requirements early to avoid misunderstandings.” She considered Mudbriar again. “I am also unpracticed in emotional intimacy.”
His face lightened. “As am I,” he agreed. “As you likely have already surmised. But I would … like to practice, if you would be amenable to practicing together?”
“I should consult with Boulder.” She looked down at her hooves. The river rock she had been holding expressed no opinion, but from the shift in dappled sunlight across Boulder’s face, he seemed to approve. She looked back up at Mudbriar. “I think I would like that.”
He smiled and leaned towards her, one hoof raising slightly, then he paused. “Are you opposed to all physical intimacy, or only mating? I would like to hug you now, if that’s all right.”
“That’s fine. I let Pinkie hug me all the time; it makes her happy.”
“But would being hugged make you happy?” He still hadn’t moved.
She … wasn’t sure anyone had asked her that before.
She wasn’t sure she knew the answer.
“I don’t know.” She wanted to know the answer, though, she thought. “We could try?”
“A worthy experiment.”
He was still waiting patiently, so Maud carefully stepped around her pile of pebbles, moved the basket out of the way, and sat right next to him, so close she could feel the heat from his body. Mudbriar nodded solemnly, and carefully placed a foreleg around her shoulder.
It was not like hugging Pinkie, she decided. It was like cracking open a piece of igneous stone and finding a geode within. The stone itself had not changed, but the world had become a little bit brighter.
“Yes,” she said. “I think I like hugging you.” In the spirit of further experimentation, she leaned her head against his shoulder.
It was a nice shoulder.
She would like to do this again. Perhaps even many more times.
It was … difficult to hope. He could change his mind later. But perhaps, this time, it might work out all right.
Mudbriar cleared his throat, and she could feel the rumblings in his chest, like putting her ear up against a rock wall to listen to what her tapping told her of its interior.
She thought she might like to become familiar with the details of these vibrations, too.
“So, to clarify: is this a date?”
“Yes,” Maud said, and nodded once. She wondered what that felt like to him. She would have to ask, later. “Yes, this is a date.”
