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// Chapter Six: Until Someone Gets Hurt 
// Story: Inquiline Imposter 
// by Nyarlathi 
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All at once, the mercifully elusive town’s small populous focused entirely upon the changelings. Gradually, their twisted visages of years-steeped loathing and fear melted back into a closer attempt at a cheerful, welcoming smile. There was something wrong with those smiles, but it was a subtle thing, not so much a slap in the face as it was a creeping certainty that something was just not right. At first glance, there was nothing too unusual about the assemblance of earth ponies, if one glazed over the detail of their bare flanks, but nothing here was more than coat deep.

By eye, the best clue was, well, their eyes. Something feral lurked there, almost out of sight. By ear, if you listened closely, you could hear something not quite right - an ancient accent, and the faint fuzz of magic as it translated and lipsynched a modern dialect over something distinctly older. Listening closer, and watching their barrels, and something else became clear. Not a one of them had breath. They did have pony scents, but off somehow, like an air freshener over mildew. No birds sang in the vicinity, no insects buzzed, nor small animals through the undergrowth. These unponies never left, and there was no wheat growing here, yet there was fresh cake, fresh bread. Perhaps for that, there might be alternate staples for the dough, but it was odd nonetheless. Odder was the blend of emotions wafting through the air. Noling could feed off any native to this town, but the emotions were there - like illusions hanging in the air, all the impact but none of the subtlety or sustenance.

One by one, the unponies stood aside from their slumped victims, staring at the Queen as they smiled at her. “Why, your majesty, we weren’t expecting you to visit our humble home - what brings you to these parts?” The one who spoke, his tone casually surprised, bore a grey coat and a slightly ruffled black mane - Grey Hoof, to whom she’d addressed her imperious query. At his side, the two-toned green mare named Three Leaf narrowed her eyes slightly, as if wishing to reprimand her for interrupting their task. The other three hung back, keeping a close eye on the battered pair, lest they somehow manage movement. Such a thing wasn’t likely, given the state of them, but better to be sure, they figured.

Meeting their gaze unwaveringly, Queen Setae attempted to convey a sense of disappointment in them, as though they should very well know what had brought her there, and that they should know better. These unponies were not nymphs with their hooves caught in a jewellery box, being far more dangerous than that, but the tightrope she walked here was such that it was better to treat them thus than to attempt an outright battle. “I believe you know why I’m here.” She responded, her tone stern, but not harsh. “Did you think that the presence of two cursed ones wouldn’t draw my attention? I know that we’ve discussed such matters, Grey Hoof.” To her concealed relief, and the relief she could feel from her guard complement, none of the townsfolk showed signs of aggression. Nor, for the matter, was the sun yet too near the horizon for them to safely remain.

A look of delayed realisation spread across the stallion’s features, though his emotions were - like the others’ - nowhere near as easy to read nuance from as a true pony’s would be. “Oohhhhh, that! Hahaha, oh, well, you’ll have to forgive our slip of memory, your majesty - old habits die hard, and all that.” He replied jovially, laughing as though this were a misunderstanding about seating order at a party. “Are you sure you’d like to go to the bother? These two are almost ready for the final step - I’m not sure there’s much left for your cure to work on.” The light orange stallion who’d been nuzzling a pale-coated mare, apparently to soothe her, looked up at this, glancing between the visitors and the ‘contaminated’ ponies. Then, he nodded, as if to say that the town’s apparent spokespony had a point.

“Where there’s life, there’s hope.” Pronotum interjected in smooth bass tones, backing up his Queen. She managed a smile at this, careful to keep it as natural and casual as possible while she agreed verbally. It was always stressful to converse with the denizens of Sunny Town, but for the continued safety of her hive, it was imperative that she prevent them from becoming hostile towards either the changelings themselves or their closest pony food source - the nearby flourishing settlement known as Ponyville. True, the deer of Thicket were nourishing in their own right, and the hive was fortunate to have them in the vicinity, but it was primarily ponies changelings were adapted to feed from, and they were much more nutritious.

She doubted the Sunny Town folk actually knew Ponyville was there, but if they found out, who was to say they wouldn’t try to eliminate such a high concentration of the marks they deemed a curse? How better then to keep a lid on the situation than to pay occasional friendly visits, and offer a solution to the pox that deeply unsettling filly spirit claimed to be the root cause behind all of this? Technically, changelings could remove a pony’s cutie mark - by turning them into a changeling. That could, hopefully, kill two birds with one stone, boosting her hive with relatively youthful converts with ready made places in pony society to slip back into and gather love from while keeping Sunny Town at least roughly on-side.

“I still think they’d make good bone guardians…” Three Leaf mumbled, shuffling her hooves. Like the others, however, she knew that their ‘gift’ couldn’t restore a pony who’d had a curse mark to a form like theirs - if their infected invaders were to become bone guardians, that would be all they would be. They’d all lost people to the pox, people they’d wished they could later restore as they restored themselves each morning - wasn’t it the equinitarian thing to do, to allow those who’d perfected a method of actually reversing the curse rather than just preventing it from taking root to do so? Sure, it seemed to have turned them all into bugponies, but they were kind of pretty in their own way, and they could still think and talk and live their lives in the sun - which bone guardians could not. Reluctance losing hold on her, she stepped out of the way as Grey Hoof ushered the party of visitors closer to the unfortunates they’d caught.

While those of her guards with field medic training worked to stabilise the pair of actual ponies for transit, Queen Setae politely thanked Grey Hoof for his cooperation, as if the savagery of his and his fellow townsfolk just moments before was no issue. “We’ll keep you informed about their condition, if it would help.” She offered, wishing to ensure that nopony took it into their heads to attempt to come check that they hadn’t all become afflicted as a result of taking in these ponies. He seemed reassured by this, even asking that she take care. It was disturbing, how genuine his concern for her safety seemed.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine - we’ve done this many times before - but thank you for your concern. Now, since your festivities seem to have been interrupted, perhaps you’d like a jar of honey to help sweeten things again? I know you and your party food.” Thankfully, he accepted the jar, and seemed cheered by it - carrying an item of mood-brightening potential was standard procedure for dealing with Sunny Towners, in case they needed to be cheered up after unfortunate proceedings. Better that than to worry that they might follow you home. Even so, the contingent didn’t head straight back to the hive - just in case. Instead, they diverted into a bunker of sorts, one containing an array of medical and magical equipment. Time to get to work.