Too Many Pinkies Plus One [Chapter 7]

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The train from the rock farms chugged into Ponyville station on a crisp, snow-dusted morning, its whistle cutting through the quiet like a low, steady note. Maud Pie stepped off the platform with her usual deliberate slowness, boulder-shaped suitcase in tow, expression as unreadable as ever. Limestone and Marble had stayed behind to mind the quarry, but Maud had taken a few days off—“for family reasons,” she’d told them in her flat monotone.

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She knew Pinkie would be at Sugarcube Corner. She also knew, from Pinkie’s excited letters over the past months, that there was somepony else in town she needed to meet.

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Maud made her way down the snowy streets without hurry. Ponies nodded politely as she passed; most knew her from previous visits as “Pinkie’s serious sister.” A few waved. She acknowledged each with a small, almost imperceptible tilt of her head.

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At the Milkshake Palace, the “Open” sign was already flipped. Through the frosted window, Maud could see me behind the counter—straight mane tied back, apron neat, moving with calm precision between blenders and glasses.

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Maud pushed open the door. The bell jingled softly.

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I looked up from wiping the counter. My eyes met Maud’s—steady blue on steady teal—and for a moment neither of us spoke.

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“You’re Maud,” I said finally, voice even.

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“You’re Diane,” Maud replied, just as flat.

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I nodded once. “Pinkie said you were coming.”

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“She talks about you a lot.”

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My mouth twitched—the smallest hint of a smile. “She talks about everypony a lot.”

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Maud set Boulder on the counter with a gentle clink. “This is Boulder. He wanted to meet you.”

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I regarded the rock seriously. “Hey, Boulder. Nice grain pattern. Quartz vein?”

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Maud’s ears lifted a fraction—the closest she ever came to surprise. “Yes. Good eye.”

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I slid a small glass across the counter: a thick grayish shake with faint speckles, topped with a single pebble-shaped cookie.

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“Rocky road, no nuts. Extra oreo crumble for texture. On the house.”

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Maud took a slow sip through the straw. Her expression didn’t change, but she paused longer than usual.

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“This is good,” she said. “Balanced. Not too sweet. The crumble has the right crunch.”

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I leaned my forehooves on the counter. “Pinkie said you like rocks more than ponies.”

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“Rocks don’t expect me to bounce,” Maud answered.

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I nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “I get that.”

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We stood in silence for a while—the comfortable kind that didn’t need filling. Outside, snow continued to fall past the window.

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Eventually Maud spoke again. “Pinkie wrote that you helped her. When she was trying to be everywhere at once.”

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“I told her she didn’t have to be,” I said quietly. “That one pony happy was enough.”

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Maud took another slow sip.

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“That’s what I always told her too,” she said. “She never listened to me.”

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My gaze softened, just slightly. “She listened to me. Maybe because I’m… like her, but not.”

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Maud studied me for a long moment.

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“You have my eyes,” she said. “And Marble’s mane. And Pinkie’s face. But you’re you.”

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I shrugged. “Yeah. Took a while to figure that out.”

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Maud finished the shake and set the glass down with care.

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“I’m glad you stayed,” she said simply.

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I looked down at the empty glass, then back up. “Me too.”

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The bell jingled again as Pinkie burst through the door in a swirl of snow and confetti.

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“MAUD! You found her! Isn’t she the best?! We’re gonna have a super-quiet rock-and-milkshake party later, just the three of us!”

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Maud turned toward her sister, expression unchanged.

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“That sounds perfect.”

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I allowed myself the tiniest smirk.

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“Extra rocky road on standby.”

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And for the first time in a long while, three very different versions of the same family stood together in comfortable quiet—snow falling outside, blenders silent, and everything, for once, exactly as it should be.

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===

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Spring had finally pushed through the last stubborn patches of snow when the train pulled into the dusty station nearest the Pie family rock farm. The air smelled of turned earth and quartz dust, and the horizon was a flat expanse of jagged boulders and neatly furrowed fields.

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Pinkie Pie bounced off the train first, mane exploding with excitement, party cannon somehow strapped to her back “just in case.” I followed more slowly, a simple saddlebag over my flank, straight mane tucked under a plain gray sun hat. I paused on the platform, taking in the vast, quiet landscape with a small nod of approval.

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“Lots of space,” I said quietly.

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Pinkie grinned over her shoulder. “Wait till you meet everypony! They’re gonna love you!”

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My expression didn’t change, but my ears flicked back a fraction. “Hope so.”

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A creaky wagon waited for us, pulled by a sturdy draft pony. At the reins sat Maud, expression as flat as ever, Boulder perched on the dashboard.

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“Welcome home,” Maud said in her monotone. Her gaze shifted to me. “Both of you.”

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The ride to the farm was quiet except for Pinkie’s nonstop chatter about new milkshake flavors and how my rocky road had become the shop’s bestseller. Maud listened without interrupting, occasionally glancing at me, while I watched the rock fields roll by with calm interest.

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The farmhouse came into view—sturdy, gray, practical. Waiting on the porch were the rest of the Pies: Igneous Rock in his wide-brimmed hat and stiff collar, Cloudy Quartz with her bonnet and gentle smile, Limestone scowling with her forelegs crossed, and Marble peeking shyly from behind her mane.

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Pinkie launched herself off the wagon in a pink blur, hugging everypony at once. “We’re heeeere! And I brought Diane!”

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The family turned toward me as I stepped down more carefully.

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For a long moment, nopony spoke.

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Igneous adjusted his hat, studying me with solemn eyes. Cloudy tilted her head. Limestone’s scowl deepened, then softened just a hair. Marble’s eyes widened.

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I removed my hat and gave a small, respectful nod. “Hello. I’m Diane Pie. Thanks for having me.”

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Cloudy Quartz was the first to move. She stepped forward, voice soft but warm. “Thou art… most welcome in our home, child. We have heard much of thee.”

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Igneous cleared his throat. “The Lord of the Rocks works in mysterious ways. If thou bearest the mark of our blood and walkest in kindness… then thou art family.”

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Limestone snorted, but there was no real bite in it. “You’ve got my hair. Straight and no-nonsense. I’ll allow it.”

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Marble peeked out further, offering the tiniest smile and a quiet “Hi…”

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Maud hopped down from the wagon and stood beside me. “She makes good rocky road.”

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That seemed to settle it.

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Inside the farmhouse, the long wooden table was already set with simple, hearty fare—rock soup, gem scones, quartz-crusted pie. Pinkie dominated the conversation as usual, recounting the Mirror Pool story with dramatic flair (and a few confetti explosions). The family listened in their quiet way—nodding, murmuring occasional scripture-tinged comments, passing dishes.

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I sat between Pinkie and Maud, eating slowly, speaking only when spoken to.

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Limestone eventually leaned over. “So… you’re not into parties?”

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“Not really,” I admitted.

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“Good,” Limestone grunted. “One Pinkie’s enough for that.”

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Cloudy reached across the table and gently touched my hoof. “Thou hast found thy own path, child. That is a blessing.”

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After supper, the family gathered on the wide porch as the sun dipped low, painting the rock fields in shades of rose and gold.

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Igneous led a short, solemn prayer of thanks—for safe travels, for family reunited, for new branches on the old tree.

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When he finished, Marble shyly offered me a small, polished amethyst. “For… for your room.”

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I took it carefully, turning it over in my hoof. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

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Pinkie beamed, eyes shining. “See? I told you they’d love you!”

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I looked out over the quiet fields, then at the family around me—stern, reserved, but undeniably warm in their steadfast way.

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I allowed myself the smallest, genuine smile.

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“Yeah,” I said softly. “You were right.”

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Later that night, Pinkie and I shared the old bedroom Pinkie had grown up in—two narrow beds under a slanted roof. Pinkie was asleep in minutes, snoring gently with one leg dangling off the mattress.

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I lay awake a while longer, amethyst on the bedside table catching the moonlight.

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I thought about the Mirror Pool. About the clones who never got this far. About the long road from waking up drowning in darkness to sitting at a family table that had simply… made room.

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I pulled the quilt higher.

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For the first time, the word felt completely true.

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Home.

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And somewhere in the quiet rock fields, the wind whispered through the stones like an old, steady lullaby—just for me.

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===

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The first full day at the Pie rock farm started before dawn, the way it always did.

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Igneous was already out in the fields with his lantern, marking rows for the day’s quarrying. Cloudy was in the kitchen preparing a hearty breakfast of stone-ground oats and gem-baked bread. Marble quietly set the table. Maud had gone to check the eastern vein for new quartz deposits.

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Limestone, as usual, was everywhere at once—barking quiet orders, hauling tools, inspecting the main crusher, making sure everypony had what they needed before the real work began. She always took the heaviest load, the earliest shift, the hardest jobs. It was her farm, after all—or it would be someday—and she carried that weight like a boulder on her back.

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I watched from the porch, mug of black coffee in my hooves, straight mane still tousled from sleep. I’d woken early out of habit; quiet mornings were my favorite time of day.

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I saw Limestone struggle with a rusted winch chain that needed two ponies to lift, muttering under her breath as she wrestled it alone. I saw her pause to re-stack a pallet of tools that had tipped, refusing Marble’s timid offer of help. I saw the tight set of her shoulders, the way she pushed through fatigue like it was just another rock to break.

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I set my mug down.

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By the time breakfast was over and everypony filed out to the fields, I was already at the main work site. I didn’t announce myself. I just picked up the second handle of the winch Limestone had been fighting earlier and waited.

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Limestone blinked when she noticed the extra set of hooves.

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“…What are you doing?”

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“Helping,” I said calmly. “That chain’s too heavy for one pony.”

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Limestone’s ears flicked back. “I’ve been doing it alone since I could walk.”

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“I know,” I replied, grip steady. “But you don’t have to today.”

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Limestone opened her mouth—probably to argue—then closed it. She gave the chain a tug. I matched her pull without strain. Together we lifted it onto the wagon in one smooth motion.

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Limestone stared for a second, then grunted. “Fine. But don’t slow me down.”

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My mouth twitched. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

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The rest of the morning went like that.

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When Limestone started prying loose a massive boulder that needed leverage from two sides, I was already there with a crowbar. When the conveyor belt jammed with shale chunks, I cleared the blockage while Limestone adjusted the tension. When Limestone went to haul water barrels for the crew, I wordlessly took one side of the yoke.

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I never asked permission. I never made a fuss. I just worked—steady, strong, quiet.

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By midday, the crew had cleared twice the usual quota from the north field.

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During lunch under the lean-to, Limestone sat across from me, chewing her gem-scone in silence for a long minute.

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“You don’t have to prove anything, you know,” she said finally, voice low.

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I shrugged. “Not proving. Just helping.”

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Limestone looked away, ears pink. “I’m used to doing it all. Everypony else… they try, but they get tired or they break something or they need breaks. I don’t.”

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“I get tired too,” I said. “But I also get that you shouldn’t have to carry everything alone just because you’re the strongest.”

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Limestone’s eyes narrowed, but there was no real heat in it.

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“You’re not even a rock farmer.”

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“Today I am.”

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Limestone snorted—half laugh, half something softer. “You’re weird.”

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I took a sip of water. “Runs in the family.”

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Limestone stared at me for another beat, then shoved the rest of her scone across the table.

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“Eat. You’ll need the energy if you’re gonna keep up this afternoon.”

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I accepted it without comment.

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Later, as the sun dipped toward the horizon and the crew knocked off for the day, Limestone lingered by the tool shed while I coiled rope.

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“Hey,” Limestone said gruffly. “Tomorrow… the west vein’s got a big slab that needs splitting. Could use an extra set of hooves that don’t complain.”

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I nodded once. “I’ll be there.”

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Limestone gave a short, sharp nod—almost satisfied—and turned toward the house.

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I watched her go, shoulders a little less tight than they’d been at dawn.

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One day down.

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One small crack in the weight Limestone carried alone.

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It was enough.