The creature didn't have a name. She spent most of her time pretending to be someone else, so what use had she for a name of her own? She'd considered thinking of one, of course, during her more boring days, but never did, for she couldn't stand the thought that should she name herself something, it would likely be forgotten in a shroud of fake names and assumed identities. She had no friends and no relatives in her natural form, so who would there be to call her by whatever name she invented for herself? That was a sad thought, and usually the one which ended her naming daydreams.
In her natural form, she was a pitch-black insecty-looking thing around the same size and shape as the average earth pony with buggy turquoise eyes, sharp white canines and legs full of holes – natural holes, not injuries. She wasn't anyone's idea of beautiful, so it was fortunate that she was also a shapeshifter.
As of recently, her shapeshifting powers had remained unused. Back in New Canterlot, she'd been a famous and beloved film star, adored by her fans and critics alike... well, at least until a sudden change in attitude and refusal to take on new film projects killed her public image, and she'd realised it was time to move on.
Some idle days, she still wondered if Heartspark Dazzle was having any luck salvaging the remnants of her image. A mare without the gumption to even attempt to escape a changeling cocoon for months on end couldn't be terribly resourceful, but there was hope for everyone, she supposed.
***
The road to Hayton was cold and wet, but she didn't mind. Even the coldest, heaviest rainfalls buffeted by the strongest winds did little to penetrate her hard exoskeleton, and she was accustomed to dark, unpleasant conditions – she was dark and unpleasant herself.
Her mind switch off as her insect wings buzzed her over the rolling grey hills and towards her new feeding grounds. The world between bodies was black, and already she longed for the colour – and the love – that would soon come with a new identity.