//------------------------------//
// Chapter 4: Welcome to the Herd 
// Story: Without a Hive 
// by Phoenix_Dragon 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 4: Welcome to the Herd

Meadow Song followed Crimson Heart into the large bedroom. Compared to the one she had been in previously, this one seemed rather sparse. Oh, it had plenty of furnishings: a pair of beds, with chests and end-tables, two dressers, a desk, a table with a pair of chairs, and a large closet. It just lacked anything at all apart from those. There were none of the decorations and keepsakes that had adorned her last bedroom so that, despite being quite well-furnished, it still seemed empty in comparison.
Normally, this wouldn't be a problem for Meadow. The hive had almost nothing in the way of furnishings or personal possessions. At the moment, however, it was slightly confusing and disconcerting. Her experiences of pony culture were sorely lacking, and her experiences of bedrooms, in particular, was even more so. That experience was now up to a grand total of two rooms, and they were different enough to be concerning. The only comfort was that both bedrooms did, indeed, contain a bed.
Or two, in this case. She hoped that didn't mean anything significant.
"I hope this will do for tonight," Crimson was saying as she straightened the covers on one of the beds. "I like to make sure everypony is as comfortable as they can be, so if you'd rather take a different room, just ask me, or any of the staff, and we'll help you out with it."
"This should be fine," she said, eying the other bed curiously.
Crimson evidently caught that glance. "Oh, don't worry about that. All the rooms have two beds. We'd been worried that there wouldn't be enough room for everypony when we were starting out. It was silly, of course, thankfully we've never been close to filling up all the rooms. A few of the foals pair up with a friend, but I think most of them like having their own room, all to themselves."
Uncertain how to reply to that, Meadow let out a simple "Ah," while continuing to look around the room.
Crimson stepped up to her, gently laying a foreleg around her shoulders and giving a gentle, comforting squeeze. The part of Meadow that balked at the touch of a pony's disgustingly fleshy body was completely buried under the part that was enjoying the wonderful taste of sympathy coming from the mare.
"I know this is a hard time for you," Crimson said, her voice soft and caring, but with something, a certain strength, that suggested that this was something she was quite thoroughly familiar with. "I want you to know, we're all here for you. If there's anything you ever need, anything that might help, in any way, just ask any of us. Okay?"
Meadow nodded.
"Don't worry, little Meadow. We'll take good care of you, as good as if you were our own child. We'll find your family."
Oh, I doubt that, Meadow thought, bitterly. It would certainly be an impressive display of talent to accomplish that, and while she would certainly love to have found her way home, having that knowledge come through a pony would be... bad.
"In the meantime," Crimson continued, "we should get you settled in and introduced. Hopefully, your stay won't be very long, but we should make you comfortable while you're with us, right?"
She gave another comforting squeeze as a prompt. Meadow gave a weak smile to humor the mare. Oh, I don't plan on going anywhere.
"Good!" Crimson said, letting her hoof fall back to the floor, and giving Meadow a comforting smile. "We'll need to talk over a few things, so we know where to begin on your schooling and such. I also think you should talk with my sister, Gentle Heart. She's our counselor, here. But that can all wait for tomorrow." She nudged Meadow gently. "Right now, I think we should get you some food, and introduce you to the other foals."
Meadow's smile grew at the thought of meeting the other foals. "Yeah, I could do with some food."





The dining hall was a huge room, featuring a pair of long tables that spanned most of its length. The columns, polished wood, and stonework were supposedly of the highest quality, even if Meadow wasn't sure what made them so. Crimson had been describing the place as they walked, and Meadow had apparently acted a little too interested in what the older mare was saying, which had prompted a lengthy explanation of how the place used to be one of a noble family's summer manors, and how it had eventually been offered up cheap, right when they were looking to set up their orphanage. Meadow just smiled and nodded at the appropriate moments, while mentally cursing the dedication to her training that insisted she pay attention to every word.
Yes, absorbing everything a pony said was the only way to be sure not to miss something important. That didn't make the conversation any less boring.
At least the commotion in the dining hall brought an end to the history lesson, and replaced it with that happy sight Meadow had been hoping for: foals, about thirty of them, calling out eagerly among themselves as they gathered for food. It was almost too good to be true.
The foals settled down as Crimson called out softly, drawing their attention. "Listen up, please. We have a new addition to our little home." Many curious eyes looked at Meadow as she continued the introduction. "This is Meadow Song. She's had a very rough couple of days, so I hope you'll all be generous in welcoming her."
Leaning over, Crimson gave her a gentle, encouraging nudge. "Go on, dear. They're a friendly bunch."
Finally, the chance to do what she had come here for. A bunch of orphans, each of them surely with their own tragic history, each of them ripe and ready for her to win over. Only one obstacle stood in her way.
I have no idea what I'm doing.
Okay, that wasn't quite true. She had trained extensively for this, after all. Training, however, was a far cry from actual experience. It was one thing to know the principles of how one could manipulate others, the theory behind using deception and their own emotions against them. How to actually do so was something very, very different. Anxiety built quickly as she approached.
She had always considered herself to be in the same vein as Ceymi. When she imagined going out on the hunt, she had pictured herself being cunning and clever, an expert at deceit, able to look down on these lesser creatures with a callous contempt while putting on a completely convincing face of friendship. In daydreams of life as an infiltrator, she was perfection. She certainly pictured something more clever than anxiously creeping up to a group of foals and offering a nervous "Hello?"
Good one. Real smooth. Expert Infiltrator tactics, there.
Fortunately, it seemed the fumbling introduction was sufficient. The nearest several returned the greeting rather more warmly than she had offered it, and a couple of them slid to the side, offering her a seat on the long bench beside the table. Most of the other foals were sitting at the table as well, so she assumed it was the proper thing to do. Hopefully, she'd find out why before her cluelessness became too obvious.
She sat, taking her place between a curious brown pegasus and an excited pink unicorn, the latter of which took the opportunity to greet her more personally. "Hi, I'm Cotton Candy, good to meet you!"
She extended a hoof to Meadow. Meadow blinked as she looked at it, while her mind backtracked to the short visit to the sweets shop a few days ago. Isn't cotton candy a food? Someone named her after a food? Amusement came quickly enough. Well, I guess she is, after all, Meadow thought, trying to mask the sudden urge to laugh with a friendly smile and a shake of the offered hoof. Thank goodness she had seen that strange greeting ritual on display over the past couple days, she didn't care to find out how awkward it would have been otherwise.
Cotton Candy shook her hoof energetically, grinning happily. "You had good timing, too. Just in time for dinner! Full Kettle said he was going to make something special. Something with a bunch of pasta and veggies and a fancy name, but I can't remember." Meadow just nodded, far less interested in the vague description of physical food while she was enjoying the delicious tingle of emotion coming from the happy filly. They had just met, and already affection was flowing, if faintly.
"As long as it's not that chili again," a grey pegasus colt on the other side of the table said. "I couldn't taste anything for half a week after that!"
Cotton scoffed. "Oh, you just can't handle anything with a little spice. It was tasty!"
Soon Cotton and the colt, Thunder Chaser--Meadow thought that was a rather pompous name for such a young colt--were debating over which foods were best, while Meadow was able to sit back and listen in. Eventually Cotton turned to her.
"So what do you think? Are roasted daffodil sandwiches better than leek-and-potato stew? Oh, wait, maybe you've got something even better?"
"Erm." Meadow glanced between the two of them. She knew more about food from their little conversation than any prior experience of her own. "I... I dunno. I spent a lot of time out in the woods, so I didn't get much in the way of fancy food. Usually, I'd just eat something simple, like... grass?"
Thunder Chaser's ears folded back, his expression--and feelings--suddenly very sympathetic. Cotton, however, seemed encouraged by this. "Oh boy, you're going to love this! Kettle's an amazing cook. Oh, and here it comes!"
Several large bowls and platters of food were set out, with everypony taking large servings and placing them on their own plates. Conversation was spotty after this, as most mouths were soon filled with food, and Meadow had to admit, it was very tasty. The "pasta" was a strange taste and texture, but after a few tentative bites, she had decided she liked it.
Overall, not a bad welcome. Maybe this was going to work out well after all.
After the main course was a dessert, vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. She took one curious taste. Her eyes went wide at the amazingly delicious taste, and she quickly dug into the treat.
About twenty seconds later, she was holding her head tightly in her hooves, as if the pressure could relieve the pounding she felt. Several of the foals around her were giggling, compounding her sudden headache with the fear that she had done something horribly wrong. Did I miss something normal ponies should know? Is this something that doesn't happen to ponies? Do they all think I'm some weird freak now?
Before her thoughts could go too far into panic, Cotton managed to break free of her giggling long enough to speak out. "Easy, there! You can't just gobble it all down like that. Guess you never got ice cream out in the woods?"
Meadow managed a weak smile, grasping at the offered excuse. "Oh, hehe. Yeah."
Once the headache receded, she once again engaged her dessert, although much more wary of the enticing yet secretly dangerous food.
Soon dinner was over, and the crowd of ponies began to leave. Meadow followed along, watching the other foals as they went. She had to figure out how to best fit in with them, and quick.
It seemed much of the lower level, particularly the main hall and the nearby rooms, was a common space. Right now the young ponies were mostly spreading out, separating into smaller groups. Meadow looked around. Almost all of the ponies were grouped up with others. Some were in large groups, others were in pairs. All were chatting, or playing games, or engaged in other activities.
Now it was a matter of working her way into one of those groups. But how? And, just as importantly, which one? Pony society was still a relative unknown, after all. She could always try hanging out with Cotton Candy. That filly had been so friendly and welcoming that Meadow was sure she could ingratiate herself with her, but at the same time, Cotton only had a couple other fillies with her. It might make do to befriend only a small group like that, but Meadow didn't want to limit her options just yet. A larger group would give her so much more to work with, and the loving energy she could draw from a larger number of foals...
It wasn't like she needed the emotional energy from that many sources just to survive. A changeling needed fairly little just for that. Even a single friendship might be enough, although it might not be very satisfying. Nothing quite compared to the sensation of being filled with love. It made one feel stronger, faster, more focused. Magic came easier and more powerfully, and so many had stated that nymphs that received an abundance of love would grow up healthier and stronger. Sure, she could probably make do just fine drawing from Crimson Heart's sympathy, and encouraging a friendship with Cotton Candy, but she wasn't going to settle for just "making do," not when such a grand opportunity was presenting itself.
Filing Cotton away as a fall-back, she stepped back and watched the crowd.
Not the individuals of the crowd, so much, but the crowd itself. Groups forming here and there, the flow of members moving about, the interactions between them. It was easy enough to remove any perception of conscious thought and individuality, to view them as little more than a herd of dumb animals. The cultures might be vastly different, but at such a basic level, everything seemed so familiar, the same social dynamics that any large group of social creatures share.
There.
Of all the groups, one particular group stood out as the top of the hierarchy. It was not a sizable group, but it drew the deference of the others, and inside the group was an equally clear hierarchy: A few peripheral hangers-on looking for popularity by association, two more who seemed to be more permanent members, and the one pony at the core of it all.
That's my target.
It was an earth pony colt, somewhat older than most of the other foals. He was a bit bigger than average, strongly-built and heavy-hooved, but he still looked fit, with a smooth, white coat, silver-gray mane, and blue eyes. Meadow supposed he might look quite attractive by pony standards. By changeling standards, he was far too thick and bulky in his proportions, and that wasn't even counting that fur-covered fleshy hide. In any case, not only did he seem visually distinctive, he directed the course of conversation and activity. If there was anyone to deal with in order to gain as much attention and popularity as possible, it was him.
Then again, the thought of having the attention of so many ponies was a bit daunting at the moment. Is this really a good idea? Should I start off slower, smaller? I don't know what I'm doing, what if I screw up? The more eyes on me, the worse a mistake will be, and... and...
She shook her head. No. I might be new, but I'm well-trained. I might not know what I'm doing, but I can improvise enough to fool a bunch of idiotic and naive foals. Even if I do screw up, it's unlikely these trusting ponies will assume the worst of me... and even if they do, I can always escape these foals.
With wavering determination and a faint hesitation to her steps, she approached the colt at the center of the group.
They were laughing about something as she approached, and she paused, letting the laughter die down most of the way before taking the final step in and offering a slightly hesitant greeting. "Hello. My name is Meadow Song."
The colt in question was still grinning from the laughter, though the expression faded as he looked at her. "Uh, yeah. I remember." A few of the others chuckled a bit at this.
She nearly winced at the dry, disapproving tone, and the faint sensation of disdain. The response was a familiar one, the same kind she would have expected for having addressed one of the princesses in such a clumsy and disrespectful manner... or the queen. She quickly changed gears, hoping to undo what damage she might have caused.
"I could see that you appear to be a very important... pony." She stumbled a bit over the word, fortunately remembering in time to substitute "changeling" with "pony." "I just wanted to come over and pay my respects." She bowed her head a bit.
This seemed to mollify the colt, the sensation of disdain vanishing, but he seemed no more approving. Actually, he almost seemed confused, or perhaps surprised. Was that too formal? Maybe I worded it wrong. Eventually, he spoke. "Uh-huh. Well, I guess you got the ‘important’ part right."
"I could tell. I hope you don't find me rude for approaching you to say so, but you seemed to be the most interesting pony here, and I thought it would be best to make introductions."
Amusement. Why did that bring out amusement? Okay, keep it cool... Surely enough, a couple of the other ponies were snickering quietly, and the white colt was smirking, barely holding back his own chuckles. "Wow. Did you get kicked out of a noble house or something?"
She frowned for a moment, then quickly wiped the expression away. "No. My mother simply taught me to always show respect to those of higher station."
"Uh-huh. So did she kick you out for being too formal, or did you just 'polite' her to death?"
"No, a manticore killed her two nights ago."
She had thought for a moment that, if they were going to treat death so casually, then it would be best to follow suit. The surprised reactions her matter-of-fact statement had drawn, however, made her suddenly question her logic.
"Right," the colt said, with a sarcastic tone. "A manticore. I'm sure."
She blinked, surprised at the response. "I saw it myself."
He fixed her with a suspicious glare, disbelief clear in his emotions. "You saw a manticore?" he asked flatly.
"Actually, I saw three of them."
"Three. You saw three manticores. So why didn't one of them chase you down while the others were chewing on your mom?"
She did wince at that, and she fought down the anger that threatened to rise up. "Because she killed them before they could. Well, the two... guardians we had with us killed one before the manticores got them. Then she blasted one apart before impaling the other on her horn." She hesitated a moment, ears drooping at the memory. "...but it caught her with its tail. Poison..."
He stared at her for several seconds, disbelief slowly fading away. "...huh. So what were you doing, then?"
Her ears shot up, cheeks flushing as the anger built. "I was trying to help. I tried to shoot it with my magic, but I missed, and then they were in too close--"
"Wait, you can shoot magic?"
"Of course I can," she said quickly, and instantly a panicked thought ran through her head. He was surprised by that! Why was he surprised by that? Can ponies not do that?
Her fears were only partially alleviated when he grinned thoughtfully. "Well, well. That could be useful..."
After a moment of contemplation, he looked back to her, his expression smiling and friendly, and a complete lie. Oh, he was interested, but there was no affection coming from him. Still, "interest" was a step forward. He extended a hoof. "My name's Big Shot, but everypony calls me Bigs."
"Glad to meet you," she said, raising her hoof to his and giving a gentle shake.
"C'mon, let's find a place to sit and talk."
Meadow smiled. One minute in, and I'm already a part of the group. She had to resist the urge to strut proudly as she followed him. Things were going so well already.
At the rear end of the great main hall were several couches and chairs, and Bigs, followed by Meadow and a few other ponies, approached a pair of couches that were empty, except for a small, charcoal-coated colt, younger than them, who was playing with several odd pieces of metal.
"Move it, geek," Bigs said gruffly. "This is our spot."
The colt glanced up, then looked back to his playthings, face practically hidden by his scruffy orange mane. "I was here first."
"And now I'm here, so beat it." He paused, then smirked. "Oh, are you still trying to build that stupid ‘robot’ of yours?"
The younger colt looked up again, golden eyes narrowed in a glare. "It's not stupid, and I am going to build it!"
The older colts were laughing now, with Bigs laughing the loudest, and most mockingly. "Oh yeah, you're going to make it out of junk you pulled out of the trash. I bet you don't even know what those are!"
Meadow resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was so familiar. Nice to know that, even among such strange creatures as ponies, some things never changed. The stronger showed their dominance over the weaker, giving them a sense of power, and neatly dividing the population into tiers of importance--possibly more tiers than the fairly straightforward and sensible arrangement of a changeling hive, but still similar enough in concept. Everypony had their proper place, and everypony--
Her thoughts ground to a halt as she scanned over that "everypony" elsewhere in the room. Some had looked away when they caught her looking in their direction, but the expressions of disgust were plain to see... and feel. A chill went through her as the wisps of contempt crept out, most of it distant and foggy, aimed likely at Bigs, but some of it was focused distinctly on herself.
Oh, no.
No, no, no. Oh, I've made a mistake.
She tried to keep her expression neutral while her mind raced. Oh, of course these soft little ponies would see things differently. If they're normally all so nice and gentle, of course they'd see the simple act of showing dominance as unacceptably rude. Not just for themselves, even. They're feeling protective of this little colt because...because he's weaker? So they show Bigs respect because he's stronger, but they dislike him, and if I'm associated with him...
I have to fix this.
Even if that means doing something drastic.
Bigs was laughing after another comment, the younger colt on the verge of tears, when Meadow spoke out. "That's rather rude."
Bigs was still laughing softly. "Heh. What?"
She scowled. "I said, that's rather rude, don't you think?"
He hesitated a moment, then snorted out a chuckle. "No, I think it's funny. The dweeb thinks he's going to make some fancy machine out of a broken fan motor and a pair of metal rods."
Meadow pictured Ceymi, channeling every memory into a contemptuous glare, her words thick with disdain. "At least he is trying to do something constructive and creative, rather than prancing about and puffing himself up in an attempt to pretend he's important."
The shocked silence that greeted her was beautiful. Bigs simply stared for a moment, eyes wide. Bullseye. Even many of the foals who were simply nearby had gone silent, abruptly focused on the exchange. A moment later, Bigs's eyes narrowed. A fury kindled with alarming speed inside him. It was so easy. Obviously, he was not used to being spoken to in such a manner. He stepped in, voice lowering into a tight growl. "What was that?"
"Oh, I'm sure you heard correctly," Meadow said. "And to think, I thought you might be someone interesting and important. But no, you're nothing more than a common, simple-minded thug, so pathetic that you have to belittle somepony else just to distract everypony from the fact that you have no worth of your own."
The anger, already intense, was threatening to boil over. Bigs bared his teeth, raising a hoof to point right in Meadow's face. "You better watch it, little filly."
Meadow tilted her head to the side, her gaze lowering to the hoof with a bored look. She didn't back up an inch, however, and the contempt in her voice grew. "Are you planning on doing anything with that, or are you just going to stand there all day like an idiot?"
Bigs drew his hoof back, casting a quick glance back... then set it down with a resounding clop, apparently thinking better of doing something more violent with so many ponies around. "Enough of this. I'll be seeing you soon." He snorted as he turned and walked away, the other ponies of his little group following along behind him.
Meadow's lips curled back, baring her teeth in a savage grin. "I'm looking forward to it."
The pony said nothing else as he and his followers left. Meadow smiled triumphantly, head raised. A nearly regal pose, one she imagined as a copy of Ceymi's grace. She stood there silently, enjoying her little victory.
...And at least partially because her heart was pounding hard enough that it felt as if it might break her ribs at any moment. She had so much adrenaline going through her body that it took all her effort to keep from jittering about. She wasn't sure she could walk straight. Run like a raving hyperactive maniac, sure, but not walk.
She had nearly ruined her reputation within half an hour of being introduced, drawn everypony's focus upon herself in the most dramatic manner possible, taken a very risky position that could easily backfire on her and even if successful would earn her a dedicated enemy, and had nearly gotten herself beaten. Oh, she was sure she could take him in a full-on fight, and in her natural form, but her options were limited here.
"Wow!" came a sudden voice from right behind her, and it took every ounce of willpower to avoid either screaming and leaping away, or pummeling the source of the startling sound into dust. Instead, she managed to suppress the urge to a little twitch, and a quick glance back.
It was Cotton Candy, wearing an expression of gleeful awe and, to Meadow's surprise, holding a somewhat stronger feeling of affection for her. A quick glance around showed the mood rather improved, and while only a few caught her gaze, almost all of them had a faint tingle of respect and happiness.
"That was... wow," Cotton repeated. "I've never seen anyone stand up to Bigs like that. I've never seen Bigs so angry!" She leaped forward and embraced Meadow in a tight hug--a squishy, fleshy embrace that squeezed Meadow's stupidly-soft body in ways that no proper body should ever flex. She fought down the suddenly returning inclination toward pummeling. Why do these stupid ponies have to be so grabby?
She extracted herself from the hug as quickly as she could politely do so. "Er, yes, well... I just can't stand thugs like that."
Cotton flopped back on the couch, giggling. "Oh, man, everypony's going to be talking about that for days."
With a reluctant sigh, Meadow murmured, "I hope that's a good thing."
"Oh, he'll be pretty angry," Cotton said, happily. "But there isn't much he can do about it, now is there?"
Meadow shrugged a little and sat as well, trying to think through everything. She probably saved her reputation from being destroyed, and if she was lucky, the talk for the next few days might put her in higher standing. She had made an enemy in the process, one with a few followers, but a few foals out of so many was hardly of consequence. Considering their reputation, she might even be able to get some use out of such a rivalry.
A fidgeting movement drew her attention to the dark-gray colt sitting nearby, who had scooted in closer. "Um, hey," he said, quietly. "Thanks. For, you know..." He sniffed a little, quickly wiping at an eye, and then pretending he hadn't needed to.
She hesitated a moment, not quite sure what to do, but quickly settled on smiling sympathetically and nodding. "You're welcome."
He smiled a little, nervously, but it quickly faded. "I just hope you don't get in trouble for it."
"Don't worry about it," Meadow said. "I can handle some simple-minded thug like him, and I'm not going to just stand by and watch him picking on other ponies just because he's bigger than them."
The young colt smiled again, and Meadow smiled a bit more in return--though more from the pleasant taste of affection that was now coming from the colt.
"So, is he like that a lot?"
"Oh, usually," Cotton said. "He's always been a jerk. Him and his stupid crony friends all think they can run the place, and since they're all the biggest and strongest, they pretty much get away with it. Nopony wants to cause trouble, you know."
Meadow frowned. "So if he's such a problem, why do Crimson Heart and the others let him get away with it? They're all bigger and stronger than him."
Cotton grumbled. "Oh, because if anyone complains, he just lies, says they're making it up, or pretends like it wasn't as bad as the other pony says, and other stupid stuff like that. He's such a brown-noser that they buy it."
"...Brown-noser?"
The young colt broke in. "It means he's spent so much time with his snout wedged between somepony's flanks that his snout has gotten all brown."
Cotton busted out laughing, while Meadow recoiled, eyes wide. "That's disgusting!" she blurted. What is wrong with these ponies? Why would somepony do that?
After several moments, Cotton managed to get her laughter under control enough to speak again. "Ehehe! It's not really what he did. Hehe... It's a figure, uh... figurative... thing... heh. It just means he's a suck-up!"
"Oh," Meadow replied, ears pinning back in embarrassment. "So... he doesn't actually do that, right?"
Cotton let out a short laugh. "I don't think so. I mean, he might." She made a face, then shook her head, trembling faintly with barely-contained laughter. "Nah, probably not, but it'd be funny!"
"Yeah," the colt said. "He's just a suck-up. He plays all nice to Crimson and the rest, and then they think he's all great and stuff, so when somepony complains about him they don't think he could have done something so bad."
So he understands basic social manipulation. Eh, I've seen better. She smiled, considering that a moment, before her thoughts returned to the ponies beside her. "So, anyway. What's your name? And what's, erm...?" She gestured to the strange metal things he had been playing with. Nopony else had anything like them.
"Oh!" The colt grinned awkwardly, looking slightly shy, yet happy at the attention. "My name's Spark Wheel!" He clutched the metal pieces and lifted them up. "And I'm making a robot!"
She blinked. "Er... I'm sorry, what's a robot?"
The grin grew broader. "It's a machine, but it's got four legs like a pony, and it can walk around and do stuff!" He set most of the pieces down so he could hold up a single one, which looked like a cylinder trapped inside a few pieces of twisted metal. A rod stuck out of one end, and when he twisted it, the cylinder inside spun. "This is going to be its brain! It spins and tells all the rest of it what to do." He dropped it on the couch, then lifted up the pair of short metal rods. "And these are going to be its legs!" he said, waving them in a vaguely walking manner.
Meadow glanced over to Cotton, who smiled awkwardly and gave the tiniest nod. Play along.
"Well," she said, returning her attention to Spark. "I don't know anything about robots, but I hope you have luck."
"Thanks," he said happily. "Most of the other foals say it's stupid and it'll never work, but I'm sure it will."
Meadow chuckled. "I'm sure. And hey, even if it doesn't, at least you're doing something creative, and that's more than someone like Bigs will ever do."
Reaching out, she patted Sparks on the head, all the while enjoying the rapidly growing emotions radiating from the young colt.
Ah, ponies are so easy.





The start of Meadow's first full day at the Rising Sun Orphanage was perhaps not quite so pleasing as the previous evening.
It started out decently enough, at least. She had gone to bed at the same time as all the other foals, despite how strange she still found it to synchronize everypony's sleep at the same time. The difference between the activity of the day and the silence of night was almost unsettling, without the familiar background noise of the eternally busy hive. She slept soundly and woke feeling refreshed, several hours before everypony else had stirred. She passed part of the time just curled up, enjoying the comfortable bed and the warm covers at first. Eventually she got up, unable to stay still and inactive so long. There was little point in leaving her room, "wake up time" wasn't for well over an hour still, and a quick glance out into the hall showed that not a single pony had stirred. They must really like their sleep.
So instead she had passed the time contemplating her situation. At first she paced as she thought, then, in a desire to do something more useful, turned to exercise. If she was going to be here for an hour with nothing to do, she might as well make it a productive time, and exercise was a familiar habit, ingrained by training.
Eventually, the ponies decided it was properly morning, and time to rise. Soon all the foals were filing off to breakfast, many of them still looking groggy from sleep. Meadow couldn't help a smug grin of satisfaction as she trotted along, bright and energetic. She had taken less sleep and woken more energetic than almost any of these ponies. More proof of just how superior we are to these ponies.
Breakfast was enjoyable, if not quite as delicious as the previous day's. A very shy Spark Wheel had wandered over to her and nervously asked if he could sit next to her, and had been overjoyed when she smiled in a most convincing manner and scooted over to make room for him, though he remained silent throughout the meal. Strange that it should be such a big deal, but pony social dynamics were still a mystery. Fortunately, no sense of disapproval came to her senses, so it was clear she wasn't committing some social faux pas. Yet one more curiosity to file away for later.
After breakfast, however, was not quite as much fun.
First was the visit to Gentle Heart. Meadow wasn't sure what to expect from a "counselor," but it seemed to be mostly asking about her recent past, and in particular, the night of the attack. The mare was obviously concerned for her, her sympathy every bit as strong as Crimson's--one of many similarities the two shared. She hadn't seemed any less concerned when Meadow had talked about it as calmly as she could. Meadow's eyes watered when she came to that moment, but she stifled the painful emotion behind a mask of calm. The talk had ended with Gentle Heart giving her a long, firm hug, saying that if there were ever anything she ever wanted to talk about, anything at all, she would be there to listen.
It took all of her training to play calm and cool at that. Seriously, what is with these ponies and their hugs? Ugh!
After that was a quick visit to Dawn Glimmer, the orphanage's teacher. They had to figure out how much Meadow knew, so they knew where to start on teaching her. Meadow had entered the meeting with a confident grin.
She had emerged gritting her teeth, desperately resisting the urge to set something on fire with her magic.
While the meeting with Gentle Heart had seemed bad enough, at least it was only some personal discomfort. This, however, was an insult toward her professional ability! Walking down the hall, she brought up the paper Dawn had written up, eyes scanning across the text, and not even trying to hide her angry glare.
Said paper had a list of categories for education, seven in all if one included the optional "magic" for unicorns or "flight" for pegasi, with each given a "grade" that showed the level of knowledge she had acquired. For her age, the expected grading was a "6" in each category.
Most of hers were given a “1,” and she had a feeling this was only because the scale could not go any lower. At least that made sense for most categories, like history.
She had two sixes. Magic and math. Magic and math! At least she felt some satisfaction for being judged "competent" at magic, despite her limited practice. But math? So she could count, and add, and multiply, but so what?
And why is math higher than language?
That burned her. Language and its use had been the focus of her training for so long now. It was her weapon, her armor. It was everything she worked toward. Her glare focused on that "1," which simply sat there, taunting her.
It was an injustice. Dawn had even been impressed by her eloquence and vocabulary--partially because she could actually make use of words like "eloquence" and "vocabulary" in a normal sentence. Unfortunately, that initial good impression had diminished quickly. She had difficulty reading, was almost entirely incapable of writing, had atrocious spelling, and... and who even knew what the heck the difference was between a verb and an adverb, but apparently she was supposed to. She scoffed. I know how to use words just fine, so who cares if I don't know what they're called?
Though she supposed she could at least take some comfort in the knowledge that she was technically ahead of where she should be, as far as years go. Apparently, ponies develop slower than changelings. Dawn Glimmer had initially guessed her age at thirteen years, which had surprised Meadow. She wasn't sure exactly how long it had been since she had hatched, but it was somewhere around eight years ago. She'd be fully grown before she was thirteen.
Which meant almost all of these ponies were older than her. Not that she would have ever guessed it.
Her thoughts came to a crashing halt as she spotted Bigs sitting there, looking right at her. On either side were a pair of friends, two that were always by his side, according to Cotton Candy: Boulder, a brown earth pony colt who's stature didn't yet match his name, and yellow pegasus filly named Cloud Burst. Meadow quickly looked away from them, forcing her expression neutral, but he was already grinning in amusement. He seemed happy to see her unhappy. She grumbled and walked off, trying to avoid thinking of him too much.
Except now he was walking up to her. Ugh. I'll have to deal with him eventually, I suppose.
She sighed, turning to face him with a look of bored contempt. "And what do you--"
Bigs cut her off as he snatched the note from her magic. "So what do you got there?"
Just as he was turning it to read over the note, her horn flared, incinerating the paper in a flash of green. Bigs jerked back in surprise, the note reduced to fine ash in an instant. "H-hey!" he said, loudly. "You can't be setting fires in here!"
She grinned defiantly. "And you are in no position to tell me--"
"What was that about fire?" They both looked back to see the concerned face of Crimson Heart peering out from a doorway. She took a sniff, eyes widening as she stepped into the hall, quickly looking around. "Why do I smell smoke? What's on fire?!"
Bigs thumped a hoof against the floor, near the largest accumulation of ash. "Meadow was burning some paper," he said, a sensation of vengeful satisfaction emanating from him.
Meadow blinked, anger rising. "He was taking it from me, and I... was just trying to get it back, and I... I accidentally set it on fire, instead."
Crimson looked at the ashes, blinked, and sighed. "Meadow, you really need to be more careful with your magic. There are dozens of foals living here, and we can't have a fire going out of control here. Please, be more careful?"
It was a complete mockery of justice, but there wasn't anything she could do but play along. Her ears drooped, her head lowering, as she tried to play as repentant as possible. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
The mare nodded, then looked over to Bigs. "And why were you taking her paper, anyway?"
"I'm sorry," he said, his ears drooping as well. "I just wanted to see why she was so upset. I didn't mean to make it worse."
Meadow glared murderously at the colt. Oh, he thinks he's so clever, does he? He has no idea what he's getting himself into...
Meanwhile, Crimson Heart was sighing. "I'm sure you meant well, Big Shot, but you should really ask before doing something like that.
"I'm sorry," he said, while his emotions made a complete mockery of his words.
With a smile, Crimson gestured back toward the main hall. "Well, you children go back and play. And please, try not to burn anything down?" She offered a little chuckle, hoping to ease the mood, before turning to head back into her room.
A smug smile spread across Bigs's face as he turned and walked off with his friends, leaving Meadow behind to glare after him. Finally she snorted in annoyance and walked away, trying to calm down and ignore the faint pressure building in the back of her head.





The days were fairly carefree, in general. The foals spent much of the time doing whatever they liked, which generally meant milling about, talking about whatever inane topic came to mind, and playing pointless, if at least somewhat entertaining games. It was an easy time, letting Meadow mingle freely. Most of the foals were very free with their friendship, very happy to make a new friend, even though "acquaintance" might be a better term. Still, it was something for Meadow to work with. Friendly familiarity was a starting point, one she could build on in time.
When classes started, new opportunities arose. Most obviously, it was informative. They seemed to have no problem with her not understanding anything about Equestrian history, or government, or "social sciences," or any of the other topics, and were going to teach her everything. It was a treasure trove of information, all ready to be presented to her. As an Infiltrator, she couldn't have asked for anything better; her prey was going to tell her everything she needed to know about them.
Granted, the language class was annoying, due to simultaneously teaching new concepts--Who cares what nouns and verbs are? Not me!--while teaching vocabulary she would have found painfully simple at half her age. Math was boring, simply because they took it so slow with obvious concepts. But history? Anything social? Oh, she gobbled that up.
More interestingly, however, it posed a new opportunity to build up affection.
It had been simple enough. Several days into her new classes, she had come across Spark Wheel, his homework spread out before him. He had looked so helpless that the opportunity had been obvious. "Hey, you want any help there?"
He looked up with wide eyes, surprised at the offer for a moment before hope welled up. "You... you want to help?"
"Well sure," she said with a pleasant smile, taking a seat beside him. The next hour was spent looking through his books, helping him find the answers he needed. It galled her to see that he was on more advanced studies than she was in several classes, but finding the information in the books was simple enough. Within a few days they had made regular study partners.
It made it even more ironic when he started helping her with her own studies. She was tempted to be indignant, but he seemed so pleased every time he glanced over her work and found something he could help with, and the affection for her grew every time she thanked him. She even started leaving in one or two minor mistakes for him to catch, easy ones she could correct in the morning if he missed it.
Other ponies, however, seemed to make a very different use of their time.
She was enjoying a delicious breakfast of fruit-covered waffles, yet another new experience in Equestrian cuisine, when the rumor finally worked its way to her. It came from a light-blue unicorn filly that Meadow vaguely recognized as one of the peripheral hangers-on around Bigs, the most hopeless of social positions a pony could be in; distanced from the rest of the foals by their association, leaving them entirely reliant on "proving" themselves to the more exclusive group to have any hope of acceptance. That generally meant being unpleasant enough to those outside the group to amuse those inside it. She was the kind of pony that might resort to kissing Bigs's hooves if she thought it would earn anything but contempt. What was her name? Starshine? Yeah, I think that was it. In any case, she was giving off far too much vengeful amusement to be up to any good.
"So, is it true? Did Lucky Strike really have to change out your bed?"
Meadow blinked at the far-too-amused Starshine's question. "...No."
Starshine was chuckling. "Oh really? Because I heard of your little ‘accident’ last night. Really, Meadow, only little babies wet their bed."
Meadow stared in confusion for a few moments, her mind tracking through the words, looking to reason out a context for the unfamiliar phrase. It took all of five seconds to make the connection.
Most of the foals had apparently expected her to either deny any knowledge of what Starshine was speaking of, or to refute it outright.
It seemed none of them, Starshine included, had expected her to start laughing.
Starshine took a step back, obviously confused by the response. She looked at Meadow, who was enjoying the first good laugh she'd had in such a long time. The laughter quickly turned to a mocking tone as she leaned in toward Starshine. "He's really... he's really going to try that?"
Starshine frowned as the mocking laughter returned. "You're weird," she finally said, and left.
Meadow didn't even care about the words. She could feel too much shared amusement from the foals around her to worry if she was behaving strangely by pony standards. She leaned back against the table, still giggling.
There wasn't any event that could have been mistaken for what she had been accused of. No, someone had, most likely, intentionally started that rumor. And that meant...
Bigs.
Her eyes found him, sitting across the room, oblivious to her gaze. He's really going to try that? she thought, laughter threatening to rise again. He is going to try to wage a war of lies and deception against me. Against an Infiltrator. This wasn't some detached, impersonal conflict. Eager, excited anticipation welled up in her as she eyed him like the hungry predator she was.
I am going to destroy him.