“She’s pink.”

“Igneous—I did not—there is nary a pink stallion for miles!”

The foal’s whine cut through the still and suddenly silent air. She was healthy and fat and as pink as her parents were gray.

“I know, Cloudy,” said the calm, rumbling voice of Igneous Rock Pie, the chief quarrystallion of the Pie Rock Farm. “It is I who beg thy forgiveness.”

“I do not understand.”

The only sound filling the rocky cavern was the foal’s wailing. Cloudy took her to her teat. The foal suckled greedily, unaware of the tension in the room, the silent, frozen midwives, who normally at this point would be bustling about with hot damp rags and things of that nature, and the gaze of her mother, who would not let her eyes leave her newborn foal even for the mystery she was.

Igneous was never happy to speak. But he always did what was there to do, and now there was speaking to be done. “In the place where rocks are born, in a cave below the water I spoke to She By Whom Rocks Are Called Rocks. She spoke of my daughters, though I then had none. She spoke of Maud.”

Cloudy Quartz Pie nodded as she watched the newborn foal, whom she already thought of as Pinkamena Diane Pie. Maud was a special filly.

“And…she spoke…of this child. She said she would be pink. She said….”

Dread squeezed Cloudy’s throat shut, but she forced herself to speak. “She said what?”

“She said she would like to Rock The Party.”

“No!”

“A Real Rolling Stone.”

Cloudy let out a dry sob.

Igneous remembered the words the zebra had spoken as if they were etched into his very soul. “Her Mind Shall Be As A Cave Of Puns. Her Castle High On A Mountain Of Cake.”

“We cannot let anypony know.” Cloudy brushed Pinkamena’s cheek with tender affection. “We shall cover her coat with chalk and slate. She will be gray like the rest of her sisters—work the rock—”

“We cannot hide the Pink—”

“We can and we will.”

“Cloudy—”

“Igneous Rock Pie, this is my baby, and thou shalt not argue with me, not in the place of her birth!”

Again there was only the sound of a suckling foal.

“Hot damp towels, Mistress Pie?” said the midwife.

“Thank you, Sedimenta….” Cloudy’s face screwed up with pain. “There—there’s something—”

“Twins?” Igneous shouted in alarm.

The midwives turned on him as one. “Get out!”

So Pinkamena Diane Pie lived her years as a filly always coated in a layer of chalk and slate her mother powdered and mixed together. She lived with her naturally gray sisters, Limestone Pie, Maud Pie, and her twin sister Marble Pie, who was two minutes younger than she. She was full of love, as her mother had once carefully put it. The Pie family showed love like a Zen master showed impatience. But Pinkamena’s love was an aura of pink that no chalk could erase; it showed through her false coat like the sun shined through paper. And when Maud was home from her trips and lessons, the pink Pie might as well have radiated actual light.

Because Pinkamena loved her mother and father, and she loved Granny Pie and Nana Diana, and she loved her sisters, but her favorite of all was Maud Pie. Maud Who Spoke To Rocks. Maud The Mountain-Splitter. Maud who always had to be away tending to the world’s rocks and healing the great scars left from long ago. Even though Nana said her power was still raw, she was probably the most important pony in the world, considering how she was treated in the rock farm commune they lived in, but at home she was just Maud.

It was dinner time. They washed their hoofs, said their prayers, and sat at the table in the same way they always had. It was wheat and oats and grass, the same meal they ate every day on the colorless stone table in the colorless room. Maud was home for the first time in two weeks.

“Maud Maud Maud how was thy trip up Dragon Mountain?” Pinamena bounced on her chair, her straight hair flying, filling the surrounding air with the cloud of grey dust that followed her wherever she went. The fillies had called her Pig-Pen until Maud made them stop just by looking at them and saying, in that utterly expressionless voice that kept Pinkamena so rapt with attention, “Don’t call my sister Pig-Pen.”

“Its name is not Dragon Mountain,” said Igneous Rock Pie, whose coat had grayed from gray to grayer since Pinkamena’s birth. “Its proper name is Rocks By Which We Are Shaded. Keep thyself attached to thy seat in some manner.”

Pinkamena only bounced a little. “Didst thou see any dragons? Did Granny teach thou any magic? Nana says she can’t do any magic it’s all tricks only how’d Granny know it was me who painted her ceiling polka dots? Huh??? And Nana makes potions how dost thou make potions out of a rock? Everypony’s just envious they say it be not magic but it be all right.”

Maud cut her oat cake in the same efficient manner she always did. Her hoofs could break solid rock apart in seconds, and with only a little more concentration into shapes and objects, yet she carved delicately. “No dragons, Pinkamena.”

“We worked to bring in the rocks before the winter.” Limestone stabbed her own oat cake. “I hope thou enjoyed thy vacation.”

Maud took a bite of oat. She chewed. And swallowed. She sipped her water. “We think we found calcified—”

“Your sisters and I played no treasure hunt,” Limestone sneered. “Didst thou notice the stores of basalt and granulite for sale? Whilst thou dallied, we worked.”

Limestone never liked to let Maud finish. She never liked Maud at all. Mother had once explained to Pinkamena that it was difficult for Limestone, the oldest sister, to have a younger sister like Maud who was so special and important, and that Pinkamena should be more thoughtful before she spoke. So Limestone interrupted a lot, and Pinkamena wriggled on her chair, wanting to leap to Maud’s defense but knowing it would only make Limestone more unhappy.

Maud took a bite of oat. She chewed. And swallowed. She sipped her water. “How are the rocks at home?”

“Answer me!” Limestone said.

“She doesn’t have to!” Pinkamena could wait no longer.

“Quiet, you!” Limestone commanded. Pinkamena wilted and compressed into her seat. Limestone addressed her like a stranger, using “you” instead of “thou.” Reminding them all she wasn’t much of a Pie. Half-baked, Limestone would say.

“I wish I could help more.” Maud took a bite of oat. She chewed. And swallowed. She sipped her water.

She said nothing more. Limestone turned to Father as if nothing had happened. “The talc is coming in nicely this year. We should start gathering anthracite, I think, though Pinkamena should stay home. She was useless on the sandstone yesterday, and when she wipes the soot she wipes off her 'coat' too.”

Limestone went on like that, talking about the work they had to do on the rock farm, knowing Maud wasn't involved. Pinkamena didn't know if Maud minded. But she minded for her.

“Well, Pinkamena?” Limestone said.

Pinkamena jumped suddenly. She hadn't heard what Limestone had said.

“She never pays attention,” Limestone confided to Father. “Her head must be full of pink matter.” To Pinkamena: “I said, didst thou make a rock sculpture for a special friend this week?”

“What is this?” Mother said.

“It is Good Rock Friendship Week at school, is it not, Pinkamena?” Limestone said with a nasty tone. “Everypony gives their friends little rock carvings they make. Thou hast one to show us, of course.”

Pinkamena turned small. The pony formerly known as Pig-Pen did not, in fact, have any rock sculptures to give, nor had any been given to her, as Limestone knew.

“Don't be shy,” Limestone snarled. “Show Mother and Father.”

“I just remembered,” Maud said. “Pinkamena, some fillies about thine age gave me a heavy sack to bring to thee as I was walking by. I left it outside.”

Pinkamena squirmed in her chair as they waited for Maud to return. She would have quite liked to not be there at all. It did not seem likely that anypony had given Maud something nice to bring her. The nicest present she had ever gotten was a stocking full of coal.[1]

[1] From Maud, and she had loved it.

For several minutes, they listened to the sound of rocks crunching outside. It reminded Pinkie Pie of listening to Maud break rocks with her bare hoofs.

Maud returned lugging a heavy sack. Pinkamena couldn't help but be curious. Limestone too looked suddenly anxious.

“Here, Pinkamena.” Maud unceremoniously placed the sack on the table and pushed it over. Pinkamena opened it. She was so nervous that she pulled too hard and sent the contents flying halfway across the table.

“Oops!” She gasped. Small, sculpted stone ponies poked out of the grass and rolled over the oats.

“These are thy little ponies,” Maud said. “Take care of them.”

After dinner Pinkamena and her sisters did their chores and said their prayers before bed. Limestone rolled away, pillow over her ears while Maud tucked Pinkamena, who clutched the sack containing her little ponies, and Marble in and read them her newest rock poetry. When she was done Marble’s eyes had already closed, her breathing soft and regular, but Pinkamena’s eyes were wide with adoration for her sister Maud, her gray coat and plain frock and quiet strength. And Maud pulled the blanket higher over Pinkamena’s body and leaned over her and kissed her softly on the brow. She whispered very quietly, “I love thee, Pinkie. Good night.”

Pinkie. No pony had ever called her Pinkie before.

“Love thee too,” Pinkie Pie whispered back, so quietly it might have been just her lips moving.

From then on every night when Maud was home, that was the last thing she said to her before bed. Kiss. Love thee Pinkie. Good night.

Autumn rolled over the hills in a soft wave of red and yellow.

Igneous Rock Pie gathered his daughters. “We are going to move Holder's Boulder down to the valley before the winter,” he told them.

Holder’s Boulder was a really big boulder shaped like an egg that sat right by their house, which it dwarfed. Igneous had always said he didn’t like it sitting right by their house because it blocked the sun, but Pinkie Pie thought it was because the rock made him nervous. It made everypony nervous, except maybe Maud.

No pony was sure why it was called Holder’s Boulder. Everypony said somepony named She By Whom Rocks Are Called Rocks said it was because the Boulder was Holder’s. But no pony knew who Holder was.

Holder’s Boulder was the weirdest rock in the whole rock valley. It was even weirder that the basalt they found in places they shouldn’t have. It was even weirder than the mushroom stalagmites that Mother forbade them from looking at, which had only encouraged them to sneak around the caves together. It was weird because it was the only rock in the world that seemed…menacing.

Maybe it was the way it looked a lot like an egg, and the rock farm had been a dragon’s nest long ago.

Maybe it was the way it teetered in strong wind, always in the house’s direction no matter what direction the wind blew. Instinctively, whenever Pinkie Pie was standing in front of it and it started to wobble, she would flee with sudden fear, though it never fell.

Maybe it was the scratching noises ponies swore they could hear coming from inside it, though never when they were trying to.

But whatever the reason, Igneous Rock Pie finally decided to move Holder’s Boulder down into the valley near the water.

The wind came in sudden gusts. It whipped strong enough to stagger a grown pony. It slowed progress as ponies worked to move wooden logs up the hill.

“Haul up those logs!” Limestone commanded to the ponies below. Marble stayed by the house with Igneous, who watched his eldest daughter work, a rare smile on his face.

Pinkie Pie wriggled impatiently beside him while Mother tied back her mane. Father sat next to her in his chair. The instant Pinkie Pie was free she bounded over where her sisters were already working to move Holder's Boulder.

“Maud!” Limestone snapped. “Thou wilt talk Holder's Boulder onto the logs. Then we will roll her down slowly.”

“The rock will walk,” Maud said.

Holder's Boulder was too big to move with a chain and pulley. Instead they were lifting it onto logs secured with rope and rolling it down to the valley. Even so, it was too big to move without Maud's help. Pinkie Pie didn't want to miss seeing her speak to the rock.

It happened so fast and so silently. There Maud was standing in front of the boulder, hardly even whispering, and somehow the stone wobbled, falling onto the logs with a crash that pushed Pinkie Pie off her hoofs.

“The logs are cracked!” Limestone screamed. “Why didst thou not tell it to fall softer?”

“It's a big rock,” Maud said.

“Don't shout at her!” Pinkie Pie ran up to them. “Maud, that was amazing!”

“Get out of here or you wilt hurt yourself,” Limestone snarled. “Maud, stay by the boulder. Keep it steady!”

Pinkie Pie didn't stay back like Limestone said. The wind was getting stronger, blowing her mane into her face. She struggled around, wanting to stand with Maud. Another gust of wind blew. There was a weird slow cracking sound, like a forest’s yawn, like an incredible mass of weight leaning over damaged logs. A shadow covered her.

Holder's Boulder always tilted toward the house in the wind. Pinkie Pie was standing away from the house. As Holder's Boulder rushed to kill her, Pinkie Pie had a strange moment of clarity. Holder's Boulder only seemed to tip toward the house in the wind because she was always standing between the boulder and the house when they looked at it.

It wasn't aiming for the house. It was aiming for her.

The boulder came down. “NO!” Maud screamed. The great stone jerked to the side as if a meteor had run horizontally into it.

It crushed the house.

“Marble!” Pinkie Pie ran to the wreckage, but adults pushed her out of the way. “Get the ropes!” one said. “Cloudy and Igneous were sitting right there!”

“What did you do?” Limestone screamed at Maud. Maud didn't answer.

They hauled crying, incoherent Marble out of the mess of wood and stone. That was it.

Afterward, Limestone blamed Maud for what had happened. Marble talked even less than she had before. Maud stopped taking lessons with Granny Pie. Maud stopped doing a lot of things, including loving Pinkie Pie.

“That is not true,” Maud said on their last day together. “I care for thee just the same. Only I have earned my ire.”

The family, what was left of it, was splitting up. Limestone and Marble were staying on the farm. Limestone had made it clear that Pinkie Pie and Maud would not.

“Where are we going to live, Maud?”

“I am going to travel. For thee I have found a prenticeship. A Mr. and Mrs. Cake need a worker in Ponyville.”

“No, Maud! Don't send me away!”

“I baked friendship bread.” Maud proffered a sack. Pinkie Pie backed away from it, shaking her head, tears leaking from her eyes. “I provided oats and wheat, and a train ticket. Bring also thy little ponies, even the cracked ones.”

“No, Maud, no! Please, Maud!”

“Thou wilt be happy in time. Thou wilt learn to bake.”

“I don't want to learn to bake,” Pinkie Pie sobbed. “I want to be with you.”

“I cannot, I….” Maud trailed off. There was a horrible, haunted look in her eyes. Pinkie Pie had never seen her lost for words or so afraid, and it made her more afraid, and she cried again.

Maud's lips brushed her cheek. “I…will miss you. Goodbye, Pinkie.”

Pinkie Pie's eyes were shut. She did not see her sister leave. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, washing away the gray powder, laying bare the raw pink underneath.

Pinkie Pie clutched her traveling bag on her lap and hid her face behind it. The train rumbled and groaned liked the earth was angry. She didn't like trains much.

A high cackle pierced the cabin and shook her: A witch and her thrall were in the seats across the aisle, laughing and eating red and yellow fruit out of a bowl like in picture-books. It looked awfully tasty.

Pinkie Pie's stomach growled. She had only ever eaten wheat and oats and grass. She didn't even have the vocabulary to wonder what something sweet tasted like.

“Hallo, wie bischt du,” she said to them, her eyes on the cherries.

The witch and her thrall blinked at the drooling pony suddenly sitting in front of them. She hadn’t seemed to have moved across the intervening space.

“What's that, sugarcube?”

“Bonjour,” the thrall said. “No, no, that's not right….”

They weren't from one of the quarries. Pinkie Pie spoke like she was addressing a stranger. “Hi, I'm Pinka...Pinkie Pie!” She licked her lips. “Eat I your kersen?”

“Rarity, what's she saying?”

“I don't speak that!”

“Eat I your kersen?” Pinkie Pie repeated. She knew kersen wasn't right. She motioned to the cherries and mimed eating.

“I reckon she wants some of the cherries Cherry Jubilee gave us.”

“I share my friendship bread!”

The witch chuckled as Pinkie Pie hefted the heavy cake out of her bag and showed it to them. Maud had baked it special for her; it was sustaining and hard as a rock. “Trade?”

“Shoot, looks like we just made a friend,” the witch said, and hoofed the bowl of cherries to Pinkie Pie, who took one eagerly and popped it into her mouth.

“It's got a pit,” the witch said, but Pinkie Pie wasn't listening.

Her teeth carved through the red skin. Juice burst from the opening and washed over her tongue. It tasted red, and pulled her tongue up and slammed it from side to side in her mouth. It bounced her off the seat and rushed through her, zipping up into her head. Her eyes bulged; her straight hair puffed up like cooked wheat.

Meanwhile the witch and her thrall were breaking their teeth on her friendship bread.

“Can you eat this, Rarity?” the witch whispered.

“If this is what it does to my teeth, I don't want to know what it does to my stomach! Oh, my! What happened to your coiffure!”

“Huhhhh?” Pinkie Pie shouted. She was face-deep in cherries and covered with juice.

“Never mind...I'll get you a napkin….”

Pinkie Pie inhaled more cherries, hacking pits everywhere in between breaths. Sweet things tasted good.

The Cakes were very nice and very strange. Mrs. Cake was fat and yellow. Her husband was blue and skinny. They smiled at her even when she was crying and they didn’t so much as peek at her sack of little, damaged rock ponies after she had shouted a bit and dragged it away from them. The food was painfully sweet, they said no prayers, and the beds and chairs were so cushy and soft she had to struggle not to sink.

Across the street was Mr. Landbiscuit. He was fat and also baked cakes. Pinkie Pie wasn’t allowed in the Cakes’ kitchen until they could get all the dust and powder out of her mane and tail and scrub her hoofs clean of all the dirt and clay and occasional pebble, but Mr. Landbiscuit let her watch as long as she didn’t touch anything.

“Try this,” he would say. Today he gave her a slice of something yellow with white cream.

She gagged. “Sweet!”

“How do you say cake?”

“Cake!”

“No, I mean the way you would on the rock farm.”

“I live in Ponyville now!”

“Hm,” he would say. “Try this.”

When she could finally help in the kitchen, everything was a disaster. She burnt things that hadn’t gone in the oven yet. The blender had to be smashed to pieces with a shovel and buried in three separate places. And her banana bread was a tad too moist.

After a few weeks had gone by, as Pinkie Pie was scrubbing icing off the ceiling with a sponge and ladder, Mrs. Cake brought up the subject of school.

“It would help you learn to speak the language,” she said. “And you could learn to count in something other than rocks.”

“382 little rocks in the garden!” Pinkie Pie said. “Mostly sedimentary!”

“There would be other ponies your own age to talk to. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“No!”

“You’ll make friends. I think you'll love it.”

“Friends?”

“Like that loaf of bread you brought with you, the one Mr. Cake used to drive nails to fix the roof? You called it Friendship Bread.”

“I’m going to school to learn to bake bread? What about cake?”

“Oh, didn’t you know friendship is a word in our language?” Pinkie Pie shook her head. “It was your sister Maud who wrote to us, wasn’t it? A friend is kind of like a sister.”

Pinkie Pie almost fell off the ladder. “No! I don’t want to go to school! I’m baking cake!” She gave the ceiling a harsh scrubbing.

Mrs. Cake watched Pinkie Pie smear chocolate over her kitchen. “I think it would help you become more adjusted.”

“Noooooowaaaaaah!”

“Everypony, please welcome our new student, Pinkie Pie.”

Pinkie Pie stood in front of about two dozen fillies and colts, all smiling at her, except for two.

“Hi!” the class said.

“Go away!” Pinkie Pie said. “I don’t want to be friends.”

During lunch (she had a blueberry loaf), the two ponies who hadn’t smiled walked up to her.

“You can’t have any!” Pinkie Pie pulled the loaf to her chest. “I don’t want to talk!”

They looked at each other.

“Oh, um, Fluttershy, is it?” the white Unicorn said. Pinkie Pie suddenly realized it was the thrall, Rarity, from the train carriage. “Did you want to talk to Pinkie Pie too?”

“You can go first,” the yellow Pegasus whispered.

“No, no, I insist. That’s a delightful, um, lizard, is it? On your shoulder?”

“Her name is Taily,” Fluttershy said quietly. She looked at Pinkie Pie.

“There’s a storm on your face,” she said. Then she glanced at Rarity and jerked awkwardly away.

“Don’t mind her,” the thrall said hastily. “We all think she’s a bit odd.”

“Is she your friend?”

“Not…in the specific sense. We’re all friends, of course.”

“I’m not.” Pinkie Pie almost told her to go away, but hesitated. The cherries had been good.

“Um,” Rarity said, “it is about your face, actually. It looks, well, in need of some makeup.”

“What’s makeup?”

“Oh, oh dear,” Rarity said in a tiny, shocked voice. “I need to sit down.” She did, collapsing into the chair across from Pinkie Pie. “You really are from far away, aren’t you?”

“I’m from home.”

“Did you mean what you said in front of everypony? About not wanting to make friends?”

“No friends!”

“I thought…on the train…we became friends.”

Pinkie Pie shoved herself back from the table, knocking her blueberry loaf onto the floor.

“We’re not friends!”

Rarity blinked. “But we are. You and Applejack and I became friends. I can introduce you to Rainbow Dash, and….”

Pinkie Pie shot up and pointed a hoof at the baffled Unicorn.

“I’m going away! You stay here! Bye-bye!”

“And then she just left,” Rarity said.

“It ain’t none of our business,” Applejack said. She looked at Rarity from under her well-fitted cowgirl hat. “Reckon you ought to give her the space she’s asking for.”

“But…Applejack, her face is so angry. I don’t know what hat to match it with!”

“Well, now it’s serious.”

“I know she’s lost a friend. She needs our help!”

“Hey, Applejack, I’ve already completed this whole side!” Rainbow Dash flew over with a bushel of apples in her hoofs.

“I’ll be,” Applejack said to the Pegasus. “You’re on pace to set a Sweet Apple Acres record if you can keep this up till, oh, just before supper should do.” She winked at Rarity from an angle Rainbow Dash couldn’t see.

“You’re on!”

“Wait, Rainbow Dash, just a sec. What do you think about this Pinkie Pie filly?”

“I don’t know, she doesn’t talk except to say she doesn’t want to be friends, and she’s always scowling. And she has cake for lunch every day.”

“Maybe we’ll go see her.”

“Mrs. Cake told my mom she’s going to throw a birthday party for Pinkie Pie,” Rarity said.

“Perfect. Besides, the Cakes make fantastic pies.”

“No way!” Rainbow Dash said. “I want cake for a birthday party.”

Applejack and Rarity looked at each other. Together, they sighed.

Mrs and Mr. Cake said that she should have a birthday party. They had sent out invitations. They had explained to her what a party was.

Pinkie Pie watched Mrs. Cake set out a big pink cake with white icing she had made for the birthday party. She asked if Maud had been invited. Mrs. Cake said she had sent an invitation to where Maud had initially sent them a letter from. Pinkie Pie kicked the birthday cake off the table and ran into her room where her little stone ponies waited on a table.

Some of them were cracked or damaged. She made a ring of the whole ones, facing outward, and set the damaged ponies within.

“I’m so happy it’s your birthday, Pinkie,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. It was Marble voice, coming out of a sculpture of a pony with the snout fallen off.

“Yeah, you’re real great,” said Limestone, whose tail was missing.

Maud was cracked from her haunches to her head. “We have so many friends, let’s invite them all.”

“I’m so glad we’re all together again,” Pinkie Pie said to the sculptures, her eyes momentarily crossing. Her hair was straight again, flat against her head, and she swept it back. “My sisters mean the world to me!”

“We love you too, Pinkie,” Maud said.

“You’re the greatest,” said the chair, who was Rarity.

“Have some cherries!” said the witch, Applejack, a floorboard that stuck up.

Pinkie Pie’s eyes crossed again. Birthday parties were so much fun.

Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash bumped into Fluttershy on the way to Pinkie Pie’s party. Rarity had a present (colorful socks) wrapped with a bow, and Rainbow Dash was salivating over the prospect of a slice of Cake cake.

“Howdy, Fluttershy,” Applejack said. Fluttershy was also carrying something small, wrapped less elegantly than Rarity had. “I don’t know if I ever congratulated you on your cutie mark. It’s a fine one.”

“Thank you,” Fluttershy said quietly. “Are you all going to Pinkie Pie’s birthday party too?”

“Sure are. Rarity stitched her socks, can you believe it?”

“I found a rock that looks sort of like a snail.”

“Golly.”

The conversation died awkwardly, as it usually did in the presence of Fluttershy.

The Cakes lived in the back of their cake shop. Applejack knocked, and a voice shouted at them to come in.

Mrs. Cake was cleaning cake off the floor. “Come in, come in,” she said in a flustered voice, not looking up. “Don’t mind me, I accidentally knocked a cake over. How can I help you?”

“We’re here for Pinkie Pie’s party, Mrs. Cake. Sorry we’re so late.”

Mrs. Cake nearly dropped the broom and hurriedly curtsied to the eldest mare of the Apple family. “Y-yes, it’s fine, you’re the first ones here, actually. She’s in her room with her little rock sculptures. She’s been in there a while.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Applejack led the way to Pinkie Pie’s room, but Rainbow Dash didn’t wait for her to knock.

“Surprise!” Rainbow Dash shouted, bursting through the door. She slid on a patch of errant icing and careened into the wall, bounced off, flapping wildly, and slammed into the table holding all of Pinkie Pie’s little ponies.

They crashed and shattered on the floor.

Applejack and Rarity froze in horror at the mess.

Pinkie Pie bent over the pieces of all she had left of Maud. Shaking, she picked up a cracked and fragmented head and tried fit it on a body that had been split into three pieces.

“I’m so sorry!” Rainbow Dash fumbled for bits of broken pony and tried to gather them up. “I can fix this, I promise!”

Fluttershy followed in after Rarity and Applejack.

“There’s going to be thunder and lightning,” she whispered.

Pinkie Pie stood up slowly, trembling, flat bangs over her eyes, and faced Rainbow Dash.

“Pinkie Pie!” Applejack rushed forward. “Don’t—”

She began to cry.

It built up like a prima donna working her way up the register. It burst out like water through a crack in a stone levy. And it was very wet, and very loud, and very much like a hungry, needy foal.

Applejack was beside her.

“Pinkie, we can fix this, I promise. A bit of glue…okay, a lot of glue…and a dustpan….”

Pinkie Pie fell on her haunches, hair hydrated to full puffiness, and spoke in sobbing fits.

“I! MISS! MAUD!”

“I! MISS! MY! PARENTS!”

“I! MISS! MARBLE! EVEN! LIMESTONE!”

“WAAAAAAAHAAAHAAAHHHHH!”

Applejack crouched next to her. She looked thoughtful, and sad.

“I miss my parents too,” she said quietly. “They’re dead. Timberwolves. And Granny Smith left me too.”

Rarity joined them, hesitant at first, but Applejack waved her on.

“I almost lost a friend,” she said. “No, I did lose a friend, and it cut deep. It still hurts, even though I’m with Applejack again. Did you have to leave, um, Maud, when you moved here?”

Pinkie Pie shook her head. “She left me!”

Rarity looked at Applejack, then hugged Pinkie Pie tight. To her surprise, Pinkie Pie let her.

“Dead!” she sobbed into Rarity’s purple mane. “Maud saved me!”

Hearing that, Fluttershy stumbled forward and knelt beside them.

“I lost a friend too,” she said quietly. “Ponies chose me over him. I didn’t even realizing it was happening until it was too late.”

“The Wonderbolts didn’t answer my fan letter!” Rainbow Dash inched nearer, then spread her wings open, encircling her with the others. “It really sucked!”

Tears washed down Pinkie Pie’s face, laying bare the pink-under-pink. Her heart ached and felt full, her throat burned, and so did her flank. A spark lit inside her. When it faded, something new was there.

“Wow!” Fluttershy said.

“Congratulations,” Applejack said. “Pinkie Pie, that’s your cutie mark! Three balloons! How’s that for a birthday present?”

Pinkie Pie looked at her left flank, then her right, counting carefully.

“Six,” she said, wiping her eyes, and hiccuped.

“What’s that?”

“Six balloons." She counted the ponies around her. “I have four friends.”

“You must keep a balloon for yourself, surely,” Rarity said.

Pinkie Pie nodded. “One more to give.”

“We’ll make more friends,” Applejack said. “Plenty of fillies around.”

“I’ll know her the instant I see her.”

Everypony was silent a moment.

“So how about some cake?” Rainbow Dash said.

Rainbow Dash stared at Pinkie Pie and her glowing cutie mark, each balloon blinking colorfully in turn.

“What happened to you?”

“The cakes tasted bad,” Pinkie Pie answered. “Saw Maud and everypony again. Had to save friends though. Come on!”

“Where are we going?” Rainbow Dash winced and bit down in pain as she habitually tried to fly. Blood spurted from her wings.

“To save our friends!” Pinkie Pie tugged an axe out of her hair and started hacking through thick clumps of thorns. “For a fee. Fluttershy will bandage your wings. For a fee.”

“How do you know where they are?”

Pinkie Pie stopped and looked at her.

“You are my little ponies. I will take care of you. For a fee.”

Author's Notes:

She knows with Pinkie Sense, Rainbow Dash. With Pinkie Sense.