//------------------------------//
// 1. Unwanted Attention 
// Story: The Rock Farmer's Daughters 
// by Sketcha-Holic 
//------------------------------//

Several Years Later

It was the crack of dawn. The rock farm was slowly being illuminated by the light of the rising sun seeping through the clouds, the blue ground and black lumps speckling it lightening into dull gray and brown rocks resting in dust and dirt of the same color. The air was cool on one's skin, and the freshness of it made one want to continue drinking it in.

A tan stallion stood on his porch, taking a deep whiff of the morning air. His amber eyes scanned the landscape before him, and he casually chewed on a piece of straw. Thinking about the work ahead of them that day, he could feel his bones begin to ache. He snorted and adjusted his hat, thinking, No ache's going to stop today's work.

His wife walked out onto the porch and stood in her place beside him. She too smelled the air, and then glanced at the stern stallion. She cleared her throat and said, "We're running low on food again, Igneous. Better send one of the girls to town today."

Igneous bobbed his head and asked, "Whose turn is it to go to town today, Cloudy?"

"Pinkamena's."

Igneous snorted again, and sighed. "Wake the girls up."





Cloudy Quartz opened the door to the girls' room, finding three of them buried under their covers. She could hear snores from one bed, a silver tail slumping over the side of another, and the strands of dark pink hair spread out on the pillow of another, sourcing from the mare bundled up in her blankets.

The only one not asleep was the oldest mare, Maud, who merely looked out the window at the field. She knew that her mother had walked in; she just didn't show it.

Cloudy just needed to wake the other three up. With a stomp of her hoof, she shouted, "Pinkamena! Marble! Limestone! It's time to get up! Get ready and come down for breakfast!"

Three simulataneous groans came from the beds, and the three mares rose from them. The gray one with a darker gray mane was wiping drool from her mouth; the blue-gray one with a silver mane was rubbing her eyes; and the pink one was pulling strands of her long hair out of her mouth. They all opened their eyes and looked around, sighing when they realized that they had been pulled out of dreamland.

Cloudy nodded and said, "All right, make haste, girls." Then she turned around and trotted out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Maud slid off her bed and walked to the mirror. She took one look at her reflection, and muttered, "It looks good."

The gray one, Marble, looked at her reflection next. Upon spotting the cowlick that had formed, she dabbed her hoof with her tongue and smoothed it down.

The blue one, Limestone had her turn next. She felt the back of her head for any bird's nests that had formed during her slumber, and breathed a sigh of relief when she found none.

Pinkamena was last, and took a look at her reflection. She fanned her mane out with her hooves, and then smoothed it back down when she was seemingly satisfied. Smelling breakfast, she followed her sisters down the stairs to see what their mother had cooked.

As they ate, Cloudy informed Pinkamena about her trip to town. The pink mare's mood went from dull to sour in an instant.





To say this boxcar was uncomfortably noisy was an understatement. And it wasn't just because it was a rickety old car.

Cheese Sandwich could not sleep in the presence of the ruffians that he shared it with, for fear that they'd steal what little he carried. A plain brown poncho to keep him from getting too dusty, his glasses case, a small bag of bits, and a bag of food were all he had. He warily glanced at them every minute, seeing the usual games the boisterous ponies played and catching snippets of conversations that some had. He caught some of the stallions eyeing him with glares or suggestive looks, and he stayed scooted into his corner, waiting for the next stop so he could slip out as quickly as he could.

Most of the time he walked, but there were times when he'd slip into a boxcar to travel. Usually he would be alone or with a friendly stranger. These strangers, however, did not seem to be friendly, at least to him. Did he look like an easy target, due to his eyeglasses and lanky physique? He certainly stood out from the bulky, greasy group he was with.

He scraped some dirt off his hooves, scattering it around in his corner. Of course, not long after he started doing this, he could hear the steady clopping of hooves approaching him. Cheese could smell the other stallion already, and it wasn't a pleasant smell.

"Well, well, well…"

Cheese looked up, finding himself face to face with a brown, green-haired stallion with a wicked grin on his face. He felt his stomach lurch at the possible things the stallion wanted to do to him. The greasy musclehead stealing his stuff was the least of his worries.

The larger stallion continued, "What's a little toothpick like you hanging with us?"

Cheese took off his glasses, and began to wipe them with a cloth pulled from a pocket on the inside of his poncho. The voice in his head was telling him to run, but unless he wanted to throw himself off a moving train, he was going nowhere.

The other pony bumped him. "Well?"

Cheese snorted and answered, "Just traveling, like I always do." He briefly glanced at the tiny brown hoof prints on his flank, representing the thing he had been doing for years.

"Always?" the other stallion chuckled. "Been on some adventures?"

"A few. Crazy stories I should tell someday."

"Ah… so you've had your share of wild rides?"

The tone which the other pony said that made Cheese shudder. The sense that this conversation was not going to end well was gnawing at him in every place, and he was considering bolting out of the boxcar, whether or not the train stopped. He put his glasses back on, picked up his things, and attempted to walk out of his corner, only to find himself surrounded.

"Now, now, we just want to be friends, Mister… Mister…"

Cheese didn't answer. He ran his hoof through his curly mane and took deep breaths. The green-maned pony and his two buddies expected him to answer with his name, and frankly, those creeps were the kind of ponies he didn't want knowing his name. He had to escape somehow.

So, without thinking, he threw his bag of bits at the first pony's face. When the larger stallion staggered back in surprise, Cheese galloped through the opening that was made and went to the door. As he started to slide it open, he noticed the other two making their way toward him. He quickly threw his bag of food at them, and cracked the door open just big enough for him to squeeze through.

He started to slip out the door, and the wind was already blowing through his already crazy mane. He could see that the train was chugging through a field of dry grass, which was better than the drop he imagined. He had squeezed himself out halfway when he felt his tail being chomped on and pulled. In a state of panic, he shot out his back leg, which collided with somepony if the pained cry was anything to go by. Luckily, it was the same pony that had his tail, so Cheese was free to pop through the door and tumble into the grass.

Dizzy and aching all over, he forced himself to sit up, and watched as the train chugged away. Tapping his glasses, which somehow survived the experience, he laughed in triumph… until he realized that he had thrown his bits and food at the thugs. His laughter then transformed into a frustrated scream.





Later that day, Pinkamena made her trip to town, with a list of what to get. Flour, salt, and sugar were at the top of the list. Oats and cornmeal were just below them. After the first five, it was just a list of various fruits and vegetables. Figuring that they were going to get a lot of this stuff, she had gotten the cart and rolled it into town.

She had just barely crossed the railroad tracks before she heard the whistle of the train pulling into the station. She took a curious glance at it, and saw a bunch of thugs pouring out of one boxcar. She wondered how long it would take for someone else to notice them, and continued to walk.

She purchased the first few things on the list, keeping her head level about her chore. It was her least favorite, even though it got her away from the farm for a little bit. The bags were placed in her cart, and she continued her trip through town.

As she made her way to the produce market, she glanced at the townsfolk that were outside that day. Mares and stallions were chatting, exchanging goods, or going on walks. Fillies and colts played games in the streets, and some of the more mischievous ones were playing pranks on the more uppity citizens. Older ponies were content to sit and watch the foals play.

Pinkamena was content to watch the playing foals as well. Of course, when a teasing colt ran by with a doll, pursued by a crying filly, she quickly snatched it out of the colt's mouth, and returned it to its owner. The filly squeaked a word of thanks before galloping off. Giving a warning glare to the colt, Pinkamena continued her journey to the produce.

Despite grocery shopping being her least favorite chore, she was quite comfortable in the town. In fact, the trip would be her favorite chore if it wasn't for one thing.

Or rather, one pony, that she was not pleased to bump into.

Light green coat, messy red mane, and amber eyes. A smug grin and half-lidded eyes always plastered on his face. Always donning a black cowboy hat and a black bandanna. And a cutie mark resembling that of an apple. A brown one at that. She scowled when she found him in her way yet again.

"Why, if it ain't the lovely Pinkamena!" the proud stallion exclaimed.

Here we go again, she thought. "What now, Cortland?"

"Just thought Ah'd see what the Pie family's been up to since we last met," Cortland answered.

Pinkamena raised an eyebrow. "You could have asked my sister when it was her turn to come to town."

"But… Ah prefer talkin' ta you."

Pinkamena glared at him for a few seconds, and then walked around him, cart and all. It didn't take long for him to start following and chattering away about himself. She tuned him out, since she had practically memorized his ramble. He competed in rodeos, he was the best apple farmer of the town (never mind that his immediate family were the only apple farmers in town), he was handsome and the best older brother to a colt and filly (he never mentioned their names). And then came the whining about how his cousin Applejack was granted great power (did he even read the whole news article?), and that his mother was trying to restrain him. And then came the part about "Apple Pie."

With a groan, she said the tired phrase, "Cortland, I'm not interested."

"Why?" he asked. "Little Apple Pie will be the cutest foal in Equestria!"

"We've been through this. I don't think a romance between us will work out. The kid would end up putting rocks in the apple stuff." She glanced at her cutie mark—a tan rock and two gray ones-as she said this. "Go find another mare; I'm sure someone around here will be interested."

"But you—"

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to buy some vegetables."

Cortland snorted and trotted away, grumbling under his breath about how he was going to win over that stubborn mare. He glanced at Pinkamena one last time, wondering why that little rock farmer couldn't see the gem he was.





Cheese had been following the railroad tracks all morning. With stomach rumbling and hooves hurting, he was wishing that boxcar had been empty. Those thugs gave him quite a fright, and in his panic, he had lost his food and bits to them. He prayed that they didn't get off the train in the next town.

He descended down a hill, kicking up dust that flew into his nose. The violent sneeze that resulted made him lose his balance and stumble face first to the bottom of the hill.

He laid there for a few moments, seeing stars twinkle above his head. After a few blinks and a shake of the head, he shakily stood up. He checked his glasses for any damage, and once again, they were miraculously intact, though they needed cleaning. He brushed off his poncho, took the cloth from the pocket, and wiped the lenses clean.

Once he placed the glasses on his muzzle, his face fell at the sight of a large river before him. He glanced at the railroad, which was on a bridge across the river. He looked around, hoping to find a footbridge, but there was no luck. His only option was to swim across, and the murky water did not look welcoming.

"Oh, horseapples," he muttered.