Chapter 6: Back and Forth
Four years.
Meadow was tempted to feel proud of herself. Four years had seen every plan and plot slowly fall into place. She was a friend to every foal. The staff held her in respect, looking to her as an example of pony ideals: friendly, gentle, and selfless. She had an abundance of food, far more than she could ever need. Everything was perfect.
Yet despite this, a shadow of doubt and worry built, clinging to the background of her thoughts.
Four years had seen many changes. She had long since had her final molt, now a fully-grown changeling under the fleshy pony guise. That disguise had changed, as well. Over time she made small changes, gradually increasing size to mimic the growth of the foals around her, yet keeping the leanness that she--and thankfully, many other ponies--found appealing. She had even learned more subtle techniques in shapeshifting. When one was completely changing their body, it took only a small tweak to ensure that the new form had excellent muscle tone, a strong heart and lungs, and other such aspects. Her form was, in her opinion, as close as a pony could be to perfection.
Yet as she looked around, she was hardly the only thing that had changed. Most of the faces, while they looked to her with happiness and affection, were new. Most of the faces that she had known were now gone.
The first to go had caught Meadow completely by surprise.
It had been the evening after Spark's first "rejection" when Cotton Candy caught up with her. Meadow was returning from the dining hall, a pair of plates levitating along beside her, when the pink filly's voice caught her attention.
"Hey, Meadow. Could I talk with you a moment?"
Meadow looked at her curiously, surprised by the serious tone the normally cheery pony had. "Sure, I guess."
She followed Cotton to a bench, gently setting the plates down; Spark would have to wait a few minutes for dinner. He hadn't left the room since his that morning. The only ponies he had seen since then had been Crimson and Gentle Heart, both of whom had tried to comfort him, and reassure him that they'd find him a family. The rest of the day had been spent with him desolately curled up beside Meadow, taking comfort in her presence and the reassuring touch of her hoof.
"Is Spark okay?" Cotton asked, quietly. "He looked... I don't know, did he get any sleep at all last night? He looked exhausted, and so nervous. And then, afterward..." She let out a long sigh, frowning. "He looked so devastated."
"He's taking it a little hard," Meadow said, reluctantly.
"I noticed. I just..." Cotton slumped a little. "I feel like it's my fault."
Meadow blinked in surprise. "What? It's not your fault, why would you think that?"
"Because it kind of is," she grumbled. "The couple that came here, Slide and Skyline... I'm the one they're adopting."
"Oh," was all Meadow managed to say. Somehow, she had failed to consider the fact that, if Spark were not adopted, some other foal might be. It just had to have been one of the ones that were closer to her, too. Better her than Spark, but it was still a blow.
"I hope he doesn't blame me," Cotton said. "I like him and all, he's nice. I just... well, I was just friendly to them, and they liked me, and afterward Spark was so crushed. I just want to let him know I'm sorry for how it turned out..."
"I don't think he blames you," Meadow said, truthfully. Still, best to keep them slightly apart. The fewer ponies to offer sympathy to Spark, the more dependent he would be upon her. "And even if he does, it won't last. He's just really torn up over it. Give him time, I'm sure he won't hold it against you."
Cotton winced a little, but nodded. Twice she opened her mouth, struggling for words, only to shut it again. Finally, she sighed, slumping again. "Could you tell him that I'm really sorry about all this? I'm glad to have found a family that will take me in, but I never wanted it to hurt my friends."
She finally gets what she wants, and then is sad because someone else doesn't get it. Ponies are such absurd creatures. Despite that thought, she gave a little smile. "Of course, Cotton."
"Thanks," she replied, her eyes watering slightly. Abruptly, she gave Meadow a hug, squeezing tight. "I'm going to miss you. And Spark. I can write to you, so we can keep in touch. That way we can still be friends?"
I suppose that means I'll have to write back, Meadow thought. Although, it might be good to keep in touch. There certainly wouldn't be anything wrong in having a few “friends” out there.
"Yeah. I'd like that."
Cotton hadn't been the last to leave. Adoption visits soon became a task of triage, as Meadow tried to drain enough energy from those she favored, in order to make the less-desirable foals more appealing. Being only fairly casual friends, she couldn't drain them very fast, and even if she could, she had to keep it subtle. She wasn't able to skew the results much, but it helped a little.
Even as the old faces left, new ones arrived. Arriving in a mysterious new place, surrounded by strangers, and likely with some tragedy in their recent past, they were easy prey; a friendly smile, a helping hoof, an offering of sympathy, and they became quick friends. It took a great deal of work to keep up appearances. She had to give an unwavering effort toward presenting a warm, compassionate front, and spent many hours "selflessly" helping others, but even when she spent almost every waking hour on the task, the bounty of friendship it brought her was more than worth it.
One face did not change, however. Spark Wheel was the one constant, almost always at her side. If anything personified the perfection of her skills, it was him. He was practically isolated from the rest of the foals, almost entirely dependent on her for comfort and companionship, and as a result, he was devoted to her. It was a personal kind of friendship, build on desperation and desire, and wonderfully sweet to her senses, better than the much more casual respect and friendship of the other foals. Even without the energy she drew from the other ponies, she could have lived contently on Spark's affection; all the more reason she was not going to let it go.
She found it delightfully ironic that his feelings toward her were the very tools that she needed to grow those feelings stronger and stronger. The trip out into the forest was not needed again. Instead, she could simply draw on his emotions, devouring his affection until he grew weak, his mind dulled. It took only a couple seemingly-innocent words to plant the idea in his mind that it was nerves giving him the headache and ruining his sleep. Then, after another opportunity came and passed him by, he would descend into self-recrimination, while she would hold and comfort him, assuring him that it wasn't his fault.
For how many foals were adopted, it was somewhat frustrating that Bigs was still there. Granted, he was one of the few diversions she had, and it was hardly as if he was threatening, but it was disappointing to see so many foals that liked her leave, while he remained. She suspected he was intentionally making himself less appealing to the couples that came to visit, looking to adopt. It made sense, after all; here, he was in charge, at the top of the social order--or had been, anyway, before she had come around to spoil it for him.
Their little rivalry had grown over time. Overtly, they verbally sparred with each other, little quips and barbs that had little result in the end. For more covert matters, however, Meadow held an easy edge.
Everypony was convinced that Bigs's visions of some armored, glowing-eyed creature was something from his nightmares--perhaps his mind's version of the Nightmare--but he knew it wasn't something he had imagined. While there was no evidence to suggest what the creature really was, he must have had his suspicions. A monster showing up in the middle of the night, waking him up, attacking him, and then vanishing, never to be seen again? It was unusual, to say the least. It didn't help that she taunted him over it. Oh, it was nothing overt, she just grinned smugly at him whenever the subject came up. Yeah, I'm responsible. Good luck figuring out how.
Her fairly petty "first strike" was eventually followed up by more stunts to humiliate and discredit Bigs, and her newly-learned spell made many tricks trivially easy. With the fire portal to slip between places, she could easily sneak about, even entering areas that should have been impossible for anyone to get into without being seen. This ability let her arrange all manner of trouble for Bigs. Things would disappear from his room, other things would show up unexpectedly, and he would occasionally wake up to a warm, wet sensation soaking through his blankets. Somehow, that last one never got old.
She had even crafted a new persona just for the purposes of stealth: Coal, a black-furred unicorn filly with a cutie mark of a turquoise cat-eye, just like the Nightmare Night decoration. It was only a precaution, another layer of protection. Even if anypony saw Coal--and nobody had, she thought proudly--there would be nothing to connect her to Meadow. She could engage in all sorts of mischief, and never have to worry about the consequences of being found out.
With such advantages at her disposal, she could wage an unrelenting war of trickery on Bigs, and one particular "prank" stood out among the rest. It had taken place on the birthday of Blueberry, a blue earth-pony filly who had arrived less than a week prior. Meadow--that is, Coal--had snuck into the kitchen the night before and swiped the birthday cake that Full Kettle had prepared, and silently stashed it in Bigs's room, behind the second, unused bed. After all, how often would somepony check the unused back-corner of their room?
As it just so happens, the answer was "once a week," but not by Bigs. Friday was cleaning day, where the staff would dust, change bedding, sweep, and do whatever other cleaning needed to be done. Lucky Strike had been in Bigs's room less than a minute when he came back out, a tight, angry expression on his face. He had found the missing cake, minus a thick slice.
Meadow idly wished she had made it a bigger slice. It was a delicious cake.
That had certainly stirred things up. It was the only time any of the foals had seen Crimson Heart angry, though she did her best to hide it. Everything Bigs had done before, or had been accused of, had been downplayed or excused as children making mistakes. This, however, simply seemed too malicious for the gentle mare.
Blueberry was upset over her birthday being spoiled by what had happened, but Meadow had seen another opportunity; after whispering to Spark and Limelight, the three of them hurried off to meet Full Kettle in the kitchen, who happily joined in on their plan.
By the time dinner came, along with the birthday celebrations, they brought out a new--if hastily made--cake. Blueberry had wasted no time in grabbing them all in a tight hug, overcome with emotion.
Another small success.
Bigs's domination had been broken for good, that day. Nopony looked up to him, although he could still use threats to occasionally get what he wanted. Most held him in contempt, particularly when he maintained his innocence. Even his friends began abandoning him. Boulder had withdrawn in the aftermath of the birthday incident, avoiding Bigs, and pretty much everypony else. The small cluster of hangers-on dispersed. Cloud Burst had been the only one to stick around, though it seemed more from pure indifference instead of any sense of loyalty. That was made even more clear just a month later, when she was adopted. Her parting words, uttered when none of the staff was within earshot, had been "Later, losers," and Meadow found it amusing that she made no effort to exclude Bigs from the statement.
Years. Meadow huffed out a deep breath in the warm, comforting darkness. It seemed so recent. Has it really been so... simple, uneventful?
That seemed fair. Things had certainly become more simple, after that.
Cotton was true to her word, a letter arriving just a week after she had left, much to Spark's delight. There was little to say, mainly that she missed them and looked forward to hearing from them, and they had, of course, sent a reply the next day. It was a trend that was repeated, with somewhat less frequency, by some of the other foals that were adopted over time. Each one sparked a faint glimmer of pride in her, having built up enough affection in her prey for it to last even after they were separated.
She even got letters from Misty Dawn and Gray Oak, eventually; a mix-up in the postal service had resulted in the mail for her being directed to some stallion in Ponyville for a couple of months, before they had cleared the matter up. Their letters wished her well, inquiring how she was doing in everything from her studies to making friends, questions that she was proud to answer quite thoroughly. They seemed quite happy to receive stories of her life--stories she made sure to word as best she could, while omitting the more questionable elements--and returned many of their own. These stories ranged all over, from talk of their old friends Sapwood and Dandelion becoming a couple, to the story of an inexplicable stampede of bears that knocked down Red Ridge's barn; "Strange things are always coming out of the Everfree," Gray Oak had written before casually switching to an anecdote about the local weather team accidentally setting up the winter clouds wrong and covering the town in three inches of hail before they could get things fixed.
At least things are interesting there? Meadow thought, rather unsure if that was an improvement over her own situation.
At least when interesting things happened at the orphanage, they were less potentially destructive. If only they happened more frequently, it would be perfect. Sure, her hard work had been rewarded by a great feast of emotion, but a certain monotony had grown over time. It was the same routine, day in and day out. Taunting and pranking Bigs was becoming a highlight, as sad as that was.
The holidays were probably the most interesting break in routine. Both Hearts and Hooves day and Hearth's Warming Eve amused Meadow, being holidays devoted to love and friendship, each of which made for wonderful feasts for the disguised changeling. Despite that, there was just something about Nightmare Night that she preferred, particularly with her new costume. With the polished-metal armor, black-dyed fur, and fake pegasus wings, she looked about as close to Nightmare Moon as possible for a unicorn filly. Better yet, she could act the part. Limelight reprised her role as Celestia, letting them play off each other. She cackled and mocked the other ponies, and so long as she didn't go too far, they loved her for it. To them, she seemed to take on the perfect mimicry of Nightmare Moon--but in her own mind, she could only imagine Ceymi.
Meanwhile, her classes continued. It was difficult to both focus enough time on her studies as well as the work to build up and maintain the friendship of all the other foals, but she was determined to see it through. In class, she was focused, every ounce of attention set to learning everything she could. She had progressed quickly, absorbing information as quickly as she could, delighting in the thought that these ponies were giving her the exact weapon she needed. How better to learn the ways of her prey than directly from the prey themselves?
Unfortunately, she was not the only one to learn. Bigs had, ever so slowly, grown more clever. He couldn't defeat her directly; she had the admiration of most of the orphanage, while he had fallen out of grace. An exchange of insults or rumors was a lost cause for him. He had even tried more physical means of intimidation, but she had never given him the opportunity. She was popular, and he wasn't willing to start a fight with her where others would see it. There were, however, other ways for him to get at her. When an opponent is armored against the direct approach, a more indirect approach might slip past that armor, finding a weak-point to exploit.
It turned out that Spark Wheel was one large weak-point.
While Bigs couldn't do much by harassing her, Spark was much more vulnerable. Sure, he tried to play it off, but every insult and slight got to him, and in turn, to Meadow. Sparks was hers, and Bigs was messing with him. At first she had almost been thankful of Bigs's taunting, giving her more opportunity to comfort Spark, but it soon became apparent that it was too much; there had to be happiness to balance out the sadness, and Bigs's clumsy smacking at Spark's emotions were undermining her meticulous work. She shot off her own insults in return, which was frustrating when Bigs seemed pleased. He had irritated her again, and worst of all, all of her insults and stealthy pranks only seemed to drive him on, his barbs growing more cruel every day.
And then, one day, he went too far.
Spark had accompanied Meadow to lunch, which she considered quite the feat; normally he spent all day sulking after another opportunity at adoption had come and passed, but she was drawing him out of his depression much more quickly this time, the crushing sadness already fading away for those tasty feelings of need and affection.
"I see you're still a failure."
Both Meadow and Spark turned to glare at Bigs, who was casually walking by, wearing a smug grin. "Oh, what, were you crying? I thought you'd be used to nobody wanting you by now."
The sensation of Spark's shocked depression burned in Meadow's senses, kindling her own anger. As clumsy as the insults were, they worked all too well on Spark in his already-weakened state. He was in no state to defend himself from Bigs's attacks; she needed to protect him, herself. "Don't you have a bed to be wetting?" she shot back, barely keeping an angry growl from entering her voice.
"I wasn't talking to you, princess," he shot back, then looked back down to Spark. "What, can the oh-so-smart Spark not speak for himself? Or is he going to go crying to his fake-mommy to make it all better?"
Spark's eyes widened, ears pinning back. Meadow could feel the sudden horror emanating from him. Bigs had hit on something painful. "S-shut up," Spark whimpered back.
"Oh, yeah, really well-spoken," Bigs taunted. "I can see why you let her speak for you all the time. You don't seem nearly as stupid when you don't say anything."
"Shut up," Spark repeated, his voice weakening. She could see the tears building rapidly, the tremble going through his body.
Bigs just laughed and walked off, calling out a parting "Boo-hoo!" as he left.
Spark snuffled weakly, his head drooping as the tears ran slowly down his cheeks. Meadow scooted closer, reaching a foreleg around--
Spark cringed away from the gesture.
A chill rolled through Meadow's body, a cold fury gripping at her mind. Bigs had hurt him. Not only that, but he had planted that seed of doubt and fear in Spark's mind, one that could ruin all her hard work. As clumsy as his insults were, he threatened to drive a wedge between the two of them. He had managed to do real damage.
He'll pay for this.
She closed in again, gripping Spark in a firm hug, despite his weak and momentary protest. "I'm sorry," she said. He went still, tear-filled eyes turning to look at her, with a faint hint of confusion at the apology. "I'm going to go take care of this, for good." She reached up a hoof to gently stroke at his wet cheek, and when he still just stared in confusion, added, "Trust me, okay?"
They were still for a few moments before he nodded, and she gave a weak smile.
She released Spark, turned, and walked toward Bigs. Her legs trembled faintly before she regained her composure, her hooves striking the ground just a little harder than usual. By the time she reached Bigs, she wore a mask of calmness.
Her voice came soft and polite. "Bigs, can I speak with you in private?"
Bigs turned from his lunch, staring at her for a moment as if she'd grown a second head. "And why in Tartarus would I want to talk with you?" he shot back harshly.
She didn't even bat an eye at the response. "Because for weeks now, you've been trying to catch me where nopony else can see. I'm willing to give you that, if you'll listen to what I have to say."
His ears perked up. She could tell he was pleased at the thought. No doubt he was imagining beating her up, and likely claiming she started it. He'd still get in trouble--his credibility was pretty well shot--but he evidently thought it a worthwhile exchange to get some retribution. "...Okay. Yeah, let's talk."
"Your room?"
"Sure."
They walked in silence, his expression tight, but eager. There were hints of excitement there, wafting gently into Meadow's senses. Short-sighted fool. He's so eager to get me alone that he doesn't even hesitate to think why I would seek it out. He's really making this too easy.
Bigs even gave the feigned courtesy of opening the door for her. She walked in, head held high, completely unconcerned. Bigs stepped in behind her, closed the door, and with a click, engaged the lock.
He had just turned away from the door, a foreleg lifted to step further into the room, when Meadow lunged, her horn flaring in a brilliant plume of fiery magic.
In a simple contest of strength, there was no equaling Bigs. Meadow's body might be magical perfection of form, but it was still lean, clearly outweighed by Big Shot, and as a result, out-muscled. Her magic, fueled by the accumulated affection of a couple dozen foals, was powerful, but even that would have likely been insufficient to hold an earth pony of Bigs's size, particularly for any extended struggle.
Combined, however, they were more than enough.
Meadow rammed her shoulder into him with all her strength. It would have been enough to make him stagger back, if not for the magic that pulled on his legs. He twisted, toppling over to land with an angry grunt. "You little--urk!"
He went silent as Meadow's hoof pressed down firmly on his neck, cutting off his breath. The colt's mouth kept moving as he struggled to breathe, limbs pulling and twisting against the grip of her magic. It took every ounce of magical power she had to restrain him, and she was burning through her reserves quickly. It took a powerful effort, but she didn't let the effort show in her expression.
Instead, she simply cast a cold glare at him as he squirmed beneath her hoof.
At least he put up a struggle. He glared back angrily as he twisted and pulled, trying to break free, to grab at her foreleg or strike out at her. His rage was almost overwhelming in her senses. It did him little good. Soon his struggles were weakening, his eyes slowly widening as his anger was replaced by something new: fear.
Slowly, his limbs started to grow still, his eyes softened, slowly rolling back.
She let off the pressure, just a bit.
Bigs dragged in a ragged breath, abruptly pulled back from the verge of unconsciousness. The first sight he saw as his eyes focused again was her glare. The anger started to flare back, and he gasped out between his frantic breaths "Let me go you--"
She pushed down again, cutting him off. Again the struggles picked up, desperate to dislodge that hoof, but already weakened. The load on her magic was lighter; still a heavy drain, but she could sustain it for a short time. She would be nearly drained by the time this was done, but it should be enough.
Once his struggles weakened again, she relaxed the pressure, and he again gasped in deep breaths, despite still being nearly choked by the offending hoof. At least this time he got the point, and didn't try to speak, laying still.
Meadow glared at him for several seconds before speaking. "I trust I have your attention?"
Bigs bared his teeth and grunted something that Meadow decided to interpret as an affirmative. She raised her head again, casting a cold, disapproving look down at the prone colt--a look that could have come straight from Ceymi herself. "I am going to make this very simple, Bigs. The only reason you have lived this long is because it would be ever so slightly more inconvenient to kill you than to let you live."
His eyes didn't waver from the angry look, but she felt the sudden shock of fear go through him. Threatening death so sincerely was not something ponies did, not normally.
She twisted her hoof a little, teasing at his throat, and drawing a fearful grunt in response.
"...You are going to be on your best behavior from now on, Bigs. You will not do anything against me. You will not do anything against Spark. You will even find time to apologize to Spark for what you've said. Do you understand?"
He grunted.
Meadow pressed down again, sending Bigs into another fit of struggling against her as she lowered her face near his, a cruel grin spreading across her muzzle. "Sorry, I didn't catch that." As his panic grew greater, his mouth gaping as if trying to mouth a response, she coldly added, "Nod for yes."
Bigs nodded frantically, and he could abruptly breathe again. His eyes watered; fear was finally starting to win out over anger.
"Now then," Meadow said as she drew back, resuming her cold glare. "You're probably too simple-minded to think this through on your own, so I'm going to spell it out for you. You're not going to tell anypony about our little conversation. We both know I'm a far better liar than you are. Nopony will help you. I'll tell them a convincing and perfectly plausible story, and they will believe me. And then I will kill you."
He flinched at the cold bluntness of the statement, and whimpered, a tear rolling down his cheek.
"I've been in this room so many times, Bigs. You know I have. You don't know how I've done it, all these times, but you know it's happened. I can come and go any time I please, and no lock can stop me. If you tell anypony about this discussion, if you don't do as I've told you, if you become even a slight inconvenience to me, then you will have to sleep wondering if that is going to be the night that I come. I might come that night, or the next, or a week later, but I will come, and when I do, nopony will even find the ashes that used to be your carcass."
She released him, stepping back as her magic winked out. He gasped in a deep breath, unhindered by the press of her hoof, and curled up. Meadow watched, frowning as he quietly sobbed, his anger buried under shame and fear. "...So pathetic. You had to resort to lording over a bunch of orphans, just to try to feel like you had some worth. Strip that away, and everypony can see what you really are: just a sniveling, orphaned foal, terrified that everypony is going to see how meaningless your existence is." She walked over to the door, then paused. "Spare yourself the embarrassment, and don't bother to come out again until you can keep yourself from crying all over everything. Everypony thinks you're pathetic enough, already."
With that, she stepped out of the room, shutting the door loudly behind her.
Then she took a deep, stuttering breath, letting it out slowly. Raising a hoof, she watched it tremble under the assault of adrenaline, the same tremor that threatened to grip her whole body. Lowering the hoof, she gave a short, shuddering sigh. That had been... intense. Far more intense than she had expected. Yes, it had been entirely one-sided and clearly in her favor, and yet...
She shook her head, slowly walking back to the main hall.
That had been the end of it. Bigs eventually emerged from his room for dinner, looking rather drained, almost dazed. He seemed torn between glaring at her in anger, or avoiding her attention entirely, and his emotions were similarly mixed; anger and humiliation broiled under the grip of fear, the former growing every moment until he looked to her, and the fear surged anew. It was almost comical, watching him trying to avoid acknowledging her when he approached Spark, offering a weak and clumsy apology before retreating again.
Spark just looked surprised at this, and more than a little confused.
From that point on, Bigs avoided them. Meadow would catch the occasional angry glare from across the room, made when he thought she wasn't looking, but he made no attempt to interact with them. She made no attempt, either; so long as he stayed out of the way, she was fairly indifferent to what he did. That didn't stop her from reminding him of their agreement on occasion, although in a rather indirect manner. Sure, he probably had some interest in figuring out what strange monster had attacked him that one Nightmare Night, and that book about monsters could have been helpful--assuming it had what he was looking for, which naturally, it did not--but he didn't seem very happy that the very large book appeared on the end-table beside his bed, while he slept. He'd been particularly quiet, that morning.
Two months after their confrontation, he left. He didn't say anything to anypony, there were no goodbyes or parting words. He simply didn't show up one day, with Crimson passing on the news of his adoption that evening at dinner.
With that, she was left uncontested. Nothing had been left to stand in her way as she rose in the eyes of everypony. Her position was secure, her food abundant.
Pathetic.
She had won.
Meaningless.
The orphanage was hers.
…
Lording over a bunch of orphans…
...
Meadow sighed, sinking a bit against the railing of the balcony. She was leaning on it, eyes wandering across the dozen foals playing in the grassy lawn beyond. Even now, she put on the act, her face showing none of the unpleasant thoughts she was dwelling on.
Increasingly, her thoughts were turned inward. In four years, she had gone from a new, unknown filly, to practically ruling over all the foals in the orphanage, eagerly drawing in their abundant affection. But what had she really accomplished? She was fully grown, had learned pony culture first-hoof... and this was all that she had managed. She was well-fed, but she could hardly consider herself proud of that. These soft, naive ponies made it so incredibly easy on her.
She couldn't help but feel that her talents were being wasted here. Her accomplishments were decent for a nymph, but she had grown, even more than her pony guise let on. Even worse, she worried that these ponies were rubbing off on her, that she was becoming weak and soft like them. She was surrounded by luxury that she hadn't even realized she had come to accept as routine. Concerned, she pushed herself harder. She resumed exercising to keep herself fit and strong, particularly her natural form, which had grown weak after her reliance on shapeshifting as a shortcut to a healthier body. It was comforting, in a way. Distracting.
But her thoughts kept drifting back, no matter how she distracted herself.
When Spark arrived, he slumped down to the ground to sit beside her with a muted grunt, looking as downcast as her thoughts.
She frowned a little, looking to him. She didn't like seeing him so downcast. It had been a useful tool at first, something that let her show sympathy to grow his affection, but that need had long passed. She would much prefer to see him happy, fueling that delicious friendship, so much more satisfying that what she got from the other foals. "Are you okay?"
Spark grunted a little, then sighed. Whatever it was, it was worse than usual. His emotions were filled with self-pity, even a bit of self-loathing. The affection he held for her was muted, barely even detectable past the empty, nonconsumable emotions. Eventually he mumbled, "There's another adoption interview, tomorrow."
She quirked an eyebrow, looking at him curiously. "Well, that's a good thing, right?"
He let out a quiet snort. "What's the point? It's just going to end the same way as all the other times." He slouched a bit more against the railing, eyes fixed on the ground. He hadn't so much as looked at her, so caught up in his thoughts.
Meadow's frown deepened. Over time, with each rejection, each failure, his mood had grown more downcast. She could coax him out of the state long enough to feed, but lately it had started growing harder. Usually, however, the depression had come after a rejection. He had always held onto his hope, but now even that was fading. I'm going to break him, at this rate, she thought, sourly. A broken pony, hopeless and empty, would be of little use as food.
She could just let him go, she supposed. She had more than she needed from the other foals, after all, and it took much less effort. Of course, she found it more satisfying to see him happy. His emotions were more personal, stronger, tastier. If she were entirely honest with herself, she had to admit a degree of sentimentality. He was, after all, her first great success. She wanted to keep him, herself, but she also didn't want to break him. It was just a matter of figuring out how to get both.
For the moment, the best she could do was try to ease his mood, to make him happy again.
"It'll work out," she offered, her voice comforting. "You'll see. Someday, a couple will come and see the real you, and I know they'll like what they see. Don't give up, Spark. You'll find a family, someday."
"Easy for you to say," he grumbled. "At least you've got a family out there, somewhere..."
Meadow huffed out a breath into the oppressive darkness. That line lingered in her thoughts, weighing far heavier than it should, than it had before. Why? Her family--her hive--was out there, waiting for her to find her way home. The thought should be encouraging, but her thoughts mingled with the earlier doubts, her mind took a darker track.
Would they even want me, now?
I'm supposed to be an Infiltrator, and this... this is all I could manage. All I've got to show is the fleeting affection of a few foals that would likely be gone within a year. My greatest success is turning into an emotional wreck because I'm too inept to handle him better. The only challenge I've faced was a simple-minded bully, who was only an opponent because of my own mistake, and it took me a year to be rid of him. How pathetic!
What would the hive think of me now? What would Ceymi think of me? I've just been hiding here among the ponies for four years, enjoying the luxuries of their way of life, and all the while I've been neglecting my responsibilities. I should be doing everything I can to help the hive, but here I am... turning my back on them. Four years, and I'm not a single step closer to finding my way home. I haven't even tried.
I've failed them.
She shuddered at the thought, despair welling up again. What purpose do I have, now? I've failed my chance to be an Infiltrator. I'd be lucky to be a soldier after this. Surely they'd find something that I could do, even something as lowly as a menial worker. Something, anything would be better than being useless. Anything that could let me help.
Will they even take me back?
Why would they? Four years, and all I've proven is how weak I am.
Shakily, she drew her head back. The motion let in enough light to illuminate the dark gray fur before her eyes, damp to match her own cheeks. She stared numbly, feeling moisture running down her cheek. Spark's forelegs squeezed softly, and she let herself be drawn back in.
And now I'm being comforted by prey, she thought, trying not to sob again. It was bad enough to look so weak, so helpless; it would not have hurt her pride to act so--acting was what she did--but this was no act. It was no lie, no manipulation to build sympathy. I'm being comforted by prey... and I want it. I'm so desperate for approval that I'm actually happy to get some from a pony.
When did I become so selfish?
When she slipped away, she hadn't expected Spark to follow her back to the room, to find her curled up and sniffling on her bed. She certainly hadn't expected him to settle down beside her, or to close his forelegs comfortingly around her. Most of all, she hadn't expected herself to bury her face against his chest, clutching him as she began to sob. Despite how disgusting and distasteful these pony's grabby habits were, how disturbingly squishy their embrace was, how utterly depraved it was to give in to such selfish emotions, she had accepted it eagerly.
If the hive could see me now, they would think me the most pathetic changeling in history. We're supposed to be strong. We're supposed to endure. We take pride in serving the hive, of bettering all changelings, but here I am, crying over my own misfortune.
She squeezed Spark softly, a gesture he echoed, and she felt a burning shame at the comfort it brought. An Infiltrator might be gone from the hive for months, even years, but they endure. They serve selflessly, knowing they have an entire hive depending on them, waiting for them to return. Me though... I just gave up. I couldn't find my way home, so I'm seeking out companionship from my food, instead.
She shuddered again, pushing the thought away. No! I can't keep doing this. I can't keep wallowing in pity. I'm not some weak-willed, pampered pony. I'm a changeling! I'm an Infiltrator! I will not let down the hive!
As her thoughts focused and hardened, she grew more aware of the emotions brushing across her senses; affection, sympathy, concern, all of them so strong and focused. The despair that had filled Spark had vanished as he comforted her, filled now only with the desire to see her happy again. It was calming, but it was more than that. He not only cared for her, he was putting her own comfort ahead of his own--just as she should be doing for her hive. As she tasted the delicious touch of those emotions, she knew just how strong his friendship and devotion was.
She couldn't help a weak smile, the thought encouraging her, stirring her pride. Yes, it was a small accomplishment, but it was an accomplishment all the same. She had done that on her own, and she could do more. If she was a failure, then she would pick herself up and try again. If she were pathetic and worthless, then she would strive not to feel sorry for herself, but to improve herself.
After all, if a pony could do that for her, surely she could do so for her hive.
The surest way to fail the hive is to not try. As long as I'm alive, I will do everything in my power to not fail again. I will better myself. I will find a way home. I will prove that Ceymi was right about me. Things will have to change... but after all, changing is what we do best.
She did not feed that night.
Meadow sat back, smiling silently as Sparks rambled on, darting aimlessly around the sprawl of little parts and half-built projects. He was completely unfocused, almost lost in a daze, and yet, so amazingly happy. She'd stopped trying to make sense of the fragments of rambled topics. Instead, she just listened to the surprised happiness in his voice, her hoof idly pushing at the blade of the half-built toy flying machine he had been working on.
It's good it worked out this way, Meadow thought. He had shown up clear-headed for once, and once that realization had sunk into his head, he had opened up. It was such good luck that he had been picked, although from what she had heard, luck might have had some help. By the sound of it, Crimson Heart had seen the opportunity as well. She had seen Spark, for so long suffering the disappointment of rejection, with a real prospect of being adopted for once, and had talked him up to the couple. Good on her. Meadow silently offered a thought of grateful thanks to her; it was a meaningless gesture when given toward a pony, who could never sense it, much less absorb it, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
Suddenly, he had his forelegs wrapped around her in a tight hug, eyes watering even as he nearly laughed with happiness. "I'm going to miss you."
She hugged him back, leaning her head down next to his. "I'm going to miss you, too," she said. It was sad to see him go. She still thought of him as hers, but at the same time, it was nice to see him happy. Maybe it was a bit more of that pony sentimentality, as distasteful as it was, but she couldn't bring herself to mind it at the moment. It wasn't going to matter for long, after all.
"I hope I can see you again," he said, still holding the hug. "I'd write, but, well... I know you don't much care for writing letters." He chuckled weakly, as if nervous that she might take offense at it.
She chuckled along with him. "For you, I can make an exception."
Soon he was hurrying around the room again, throwing things into a few bags and small cases. He hardly made a dent in the collection of parts that had long since sprawled out from his half of the room to dominate most of the open space. Several years of collecting "useful parts" had turned up quite a bit of junk-turned-treasure, and he was quickly sorting through it to grab the choicest bits.
It wasn't much later that he was hugging her again, almost crying as he said goodbye, despite the happiness that still filled him.
Then he was gone, leaving her sitting alone in a room that suddenly felt so empty.
Creak. Pop.
The sound of the building settling in the night was the only sound that Meadow had heard over the past half-hour. She lay still on her bed, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling as the time passed.
That should be long enough.
Tossing aside the covers, she slipped out of bed, retrieving her saddlebags from the closet. She had already packed them, but one thing she had intentionally left for the last moment. She opened a flap, pulling out a small bundle. Setting the writing kit on the end table, she unrolled the small scroll of parchment, and a flicker of movement dropping from it caught her attention. Reflexively, her magic reached out, snagging the falling object.
It was that little compass, dangling from its cord. She watched it, turning slowly as it dangled there, a little smile catching on her lips. Gently, she set it aside, selected a quill, and started to write.
She didn't really feel the need to say goodbye, although she noted it would be the socially expected thing to do, and in a way, that was reason enough. More importantly, though, they would want to follow her, to find her. These ponies had such extreme amounts of sympathy and compassion, even towards strangers, that she didn't doubt for a moment that they would want to find her and "help" her. Thus, the letter; she didn't want to completely drive them away--having contacts was always useful--but she didn't want them trying to find her, trying to bring her back, actions with good intents that could only serve to hold her back.
When she finished, she sat discontentedly, eyes wandering over the page repeatedly. Eventually they wandered over to the compass again. She stared at it for several long moments, deep in thought, before the smile returned. She leaned forward, quickly writing more at the end of her letter, and signing it. Rolling it up, she placed it atop her pillow. There.
She walked over to her window, tucking the writing kit back into her bag, and setting the compass gently on top. Outside, everything was cloaked in shadow, the Nightmare looking down from her full moon to cast her cool light over the world. Meadow opened the window, the brisk summer night breeze meeting her. She didn't need to, she could just fire-portal her way off to the woods; it'd be easier, but somehow it just felt wrong. If she was setting out on her own, she wanted to start it off right. Besides, I should save my magic, she rationalized.
There was only one final thing to do. She turned her head to look back over herself. For a pony, she looked almost perfect: tall, lean, athletic, graceful, confident. Almost perfect. Only one detail was missing. Flame flickered across her form, and she blinked at the flash of light. When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see the compass rose emblazoned on her flank. As counterfeit as a changeling cutie-mark might be, there was something about it that simply felt right.
No more moping. No more lazing. I will find my own way.
Smiling, she slipped through the window and into the night.
Dear Crimson Heart, and all the ponies of the Rising Sun Orphanage,
It's probably obvious by now, but I have left. I had to go. As wonderful as it is here, and as much as I will miss all of you, it is time for me to leave, to make my own way in the world. There is no point in me looking for adoption, not when I know my family is out there, expecting me. While I doubt I can find them on my own, they wouldn't want me to simply sit idle, waiting to be found. I need to get out in the world, to take care of myself. You have all prepared me as well as I could be for this task, but now I need to do it myself.
I earned my cutie mark tonight. It appeared just as I prepared to leave. I know now why it never showed before. It represents the one thing I could not find here: I am meant to find my own way in the world.
Your friend,
Meadow Song