The stallion in the ticket booth scared Marble.
To be fair, there were a lot of things that scared Marble. Thunderstorms. Ghost stories. Handsome stallions looking her in the eye. Even Limestone sometimes, although her older sister never meant to scare her. It was just a byproduct of Limestone being Limestone.
As Limestone led Marble away from the old fool, his warnings about the Peaks of Peril and lying Kirins echoing in their ears, she did her best to soothe the timid mare. A pat on the shoulder and a “There, there,” was usually enough to get Marble smiling again. Not today.
“Don’t listen to him, Marble. Pinkie told us all about it herself. And she’s no liar. A little nuts,” Limestone added with a roll of her eyes, “but no liar.”
At this, the tiniest smile followed. Limestone returned it with one of similar size.
They continued on past the skeptical trainpony and his shack of a ticket booth, leaving the train’s final tracks and heading towards the wilderness beyond. The sun blazed as they trotted through the plains to the peaks, wicking their coats with sweat. Neither paid it much mind, their destination far worth the journey.
As the plains gave way to a grove of trees, Limestone turned to her sister. “So, what are you gonna talk about first? Or who are you gonna talk to? Maybe that one farmhoof who’s always too busy staring at you to get any work done?”
Marble’s cheeks tinged pink. “Uhhhh…”
Limestone replied with a playful snicker, “I figured as much.”
Marble looked away. Her blush darkened. “Mm-hmm.”
Limestone nudged her in the ribs. “Whoa, Marble! Save that kinda talk for the wedding night, alright?” With a bark of a chuckle, she added, “You’re gonna make me jealous! First Maud, now you? Before you know it, I’ll be the only Pie without a match!”
Marble cringed. “Uhhhh…”
“There’s always the Choosing Stone, but, between you and me, I’d rather go out and find somepony.” After a moment, Limestone added with a toothy smirk, “Don’t tell Ma and Pa though.”
Marble gave a quick nod. “Mm-hmm!”
Another rare smile tugged at Limestone’s lips. A break from the farm always tended to do that. Too bad these breaks were getting fewer and further between.
Ah well. At least today was a good enough reason to leave work behind.
It wasn’t long before they reached the village. Instead of a hidden path behind a stone, the Kirin marked the entrance to their village with a gaudy banner, streamers, and other colorful decorations hanging between the trees.
Limestone wrinkled her muzzle. “Something tells me Pinkie didn’t just hear about this place from her friends.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Shrugging, Limestone continued on. Alone, after a few steps. “Marble?”
“Uhhhh…” Pawing a forehoof at the dirt, Marble tucked herself beneath her mane. She gave another uneasy, almost inaudible hum.
With a sigh, Limestone returned to her side. “C’mon, Marble. We made it this far. Don’t be nervous.” She mustered a smile. “It’s gonna work. I promise.”
When Marble looked up from the ground, gave her that trademark smile, and replied, “Mm-hmm,” Limestone felt the happiest she’d been in a long time.
These Kirin were annoying.
The one who had greeted them with a song just wouldn’t shut up. What was her name? Autumn-something? Whatever. Didn’t matter.
While Limestone had tried to object to the tour of the village—being nice and polite, at first, and then raising her voice just a little—Marble had convinced her to let Autumn-something do her thing. Even if it meant learning where they did stand-up comedy, or sold vases, or other superficial nonsense. Even if Limestone had to bite her lip so much that she tasted blood.
Finally, Autumn-something circled them back to the entrance of the village. Right where they began. “So, that’s everything! What do you think of my ‘Welcome to our village’ song? Too fast? Too slow? Too steady of tempo? Oh, how I missed rhymes so much! Even after being able to talk for months now, I just can’t—”
Limestone stomped a hoof. “Enough!”
Autumn-something’s eyes widened. Several Kirin turned towards them, their eyes wide with surprise… and fear.
Good. Fear always cut right to the chase.
Marble laid a forehoof on Limestone’s shoulder. “Uhhhh…”
After briefly meeting her eyes, Limestone sighed. She drew in a sharp, hissing breath. “Where are the flowers?” Though her tone was quieter, the grinding of her teeth was definitely not. “They’re the whole reason we came here. Not your stupid song and dance,” she mumbled, loud enough for only Marble to hear.
Marble shot her a disappointed glare. Limestone rolled her eyes.
Autumn-something tilted her head. “The flowers?” Before Limestone could clarify, she blinked, then clapped her cloven forehooves together. “Oh! The foal’s-breath flowers! The ones that cured our silence! Is that what you mean?”
Limestone clenched her jaw. “Yes, those.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Autumn-something laughed. “We have plenty! In fact, they’re at Cinder Glow’s booth!” She pointed over to a merchant’s stall. A brown Kirin with a green mane waved far too enthusiastically at the mares. “Though, I gotta ask—what for?”
In reply, a forehoof dug at the dirt. Limestone met Marble’s lowered gaze, awaiting her nod. Marble dug again, then nodded. Limestone sucked in a breath between her teeth. “For my sister.”
If the other Kirin hadn’t been listening in on their conversation before, they certainly were now. Limestone could feel the snap of muzzles turning around, the heat of eyes staring their way, the low gust of hushed whispers passing under the light breeze.
Everypony always reacted this way. No wonder every Kirin did the same.
“Y-your sister?” Autumn-something raised both eyebrows. “I thought she was just a little shy. Which is fine, but—wait.” She pointed at Marble. “Did you fall into the Stream of Silence, too?”
Limestone laid a forehoof on Marble’s shoulder. This conversation was never easy. After taking a deep breath, she began, “She—well, she’s always—”
Marble shoved it away. Then, she looked up at Limestone, something burning in her eyes.
At her sudden strength, Limestone gasped. “Marble…”
Standing up, Marble shoved Limestone aside, coming face-to-face with Autumn-something.
“Uhhhh… Uhhhh…” Her brow furrowing, Marble coughed, then cleared her throat. She tried again. “Mm-hmm, uh… hhh…” She was shaking now. The strain continued, wound like one taut string between her vocal cords and the world’s ears. “Mm—hmm—uh—hhhhhh…”
Now the entire village was watching.
“M-Marble—” Limestone raised a forehoof, then lowered it.
Like cracking a geode, there were some things that required a gentle hoof. Lest it be shattered, and gone forever. And Limestone, no matter how delicate she tried to step, had always been too heavy-hoofed.
More attempts, until Marble—a single tear glistening on her cheek—stared down at the ground.
While they had the entire village’s attention, none of these strange creatures, once cursed to silence, seemed to have anything to say.
Limestone fought the fool shaking in her own limbs, the traitorous twisting of her stomach, as she gritted her teeth and shot daggers back at Autumn-something. “Does that answer your stupid question?”
For once, the rambling Kirin had nothing to say.
While Marble sniffled, Limestone rubbing at her shoulder, another Kirin stepped forward. This one was far taller than the others. The red horn above her two-tone blue mane towered high enough to pierce the heavens if she tried. Full of might and magic, she looked almost intimidating in Limestone’s narrowed eyes.
For the first time since they arrived, Limestone felt threatened.
“We shall give you the tea from the foal’s-breath flowers,” this Kirin said, her words misting like smoke over water, “but we can make no guarantees of a cure.” She paused, her eyes tracing over the crumpled mare on the ground. “The waters of the Stream of Silence do not run past our village. We can take no responsibility for—”
“I know it’s not your fault!” Limestone shouted, stepping towards her. She threw her forehooves up in desperation. “B-but if you could give an entire village their voices back with a lousy cup of tea, you should be able to—”
Magic crackled up her horn. “We don’t know that, young one. We will do our best to help you, but we shall make no promises.” She swept her gaze amongst her fellow Kirin. “Given our village’s checkered history with anger, our aid comes with one condition.” She stared Limestone down. “We will make the tea for your sister. If it fails to heal her, you must leave the village at once—to never return.”
Every creature’s eyes turned to Limestone Pie.
Including Marble’s.
The blood rushing in her ears rivaled the might of the stream. Below her adrenaline and beneath her regret—so many years, so many doctors, so much trying—Limestone Pie found the will to nod.
Still cowering under the weight of it all, Marble Pie nonetheless found the strength to smile. To try, one more time.
The Kirin at the booth wasted no time in crushing those blue flowers into a paste, bringing a kettle to boil with magic, and combining the two. Autumn-something delayed no further as she took the cup of foals-breath in her teal aura and passed it over.
And when Marble brought that cup to her lips, Limestone hoped that the stallion at the train tracks was truly an old fool.