No matter how many times the Changeling wandered along this trail, he pondered, he never got tired of the way the trees overhead reacted to his presence. Perhaps when the crystallised leaves just ahead lit up dimly with that faint greenish light and those that passed behind him faded and became lifeless once more, he felt almost important. As if his existence actually meant something. If he had been taught in the hatchery what a smile was or how to do it he likely would have done so.
Maybe, even, the freakishly abnormal "leaves" were trying to communicate with him. A myth had circulated for a while when he was a hatchling that the forest had been normal when Changelings first appeared several millions of years before the ponies did, and over time the trees had been forced to adapt and change to cope with the vast amounts of negativity that so abundantly plagued the Changeling race. The hatchling who spread the rumour disappeared quite quickly when his Queen found out, though, so perhaps it was best to avoid such thoughts and focus on the task at hand.
The Changeling lowered his head and faced forward as he trotted along the path, watching the darkness open up before him and feeling it close behind him. He liked the dark- you had to in order to be a Changeling, or else you would get shunned and exiled for being different to the rest of the Swarm- but he felt that darkness to him was something... special. Like it reached out, soaked into his chest and enveloped his heart with its soothing serenity and touched his soul with its peace. That's what he truly loved about the dark... just how peaceful it was. No ponies ever went in the dark. It was always undisturbed, and there was something about that feeling which he adored. Indeed, craved.
Wherever you went in Equestria, anywhere at all, there was a different kind of light there. Produced artificially, by magic, the sun; there was always some new kind of light to assault his senses. Darkness never changed; it was either there, or it wasn't. Darkness was always the same. That's why he loved the night- although, according to his race's elders, it was so much better before the ponies ruined it and created a moon.
Then all of a sudden the darkness ahead split and opened up to the piercingly bright world beyond. He hissed and covered his eyes with a black hoof, feeling the intense sunlight wash over his body, and hating every second of it. After a while his eyes had adjusted and the Changeling turned to peer at the trail behind; the darkness had since abandoned him and returned to the forest, leaving him standing alone in the middle of a world of piercingly bright lights and eye-watering colours. He growled in frustration and kicked up some gravel from the road beneath in fury, then flapped his wings and took off, sailing into the clear blue sky to check his bearings.
Well, perhaps 'flapped' was the wrong word to describe what Changelings do. 'Buzzed' was more like it. The slim blue wings that sprouted from his back could only really hum furiously to keep him in the air. Maybe, he considered as he perched onto a crisp cloud, Changelings weren't as adept at flying as he had been taught. Not that flying was their talent or anything; they had wonderfully sharp fangs and eyes that could make out clear surroundings in complete darkness, and he knew that flying was just another thing on the list of skills that made them so much better, why those ponies should tremble at their hooves. The Changeling race longed for the day when the pony princesses fell to their knees in despair.
He looked around. The Crystal Forest in all it's disgusting beauty was a mile or so beneath him, and the foreboding city of Canterlot was rising high up out of the mountain in the distance. Drawing in a breath and focusing, the Changeling was enveloped in a bright column of pure green magic. It spun and twirled around him, closing in above his head and hanging around him for a few moments before dissipating just as quickly as it had appeared. A pony stepped out from where the Changeling stood and snickered.
Now, disguised as a pegasus pony, the Changeling truly could flap his wings, and sailed off of his cloud perch in the direction of Canterlot. With these new pony eyes- a pair that were not the result of centuries of evolution to see in utter, bitter darkness- he could see so much clearer, he had a soft blue mane that swept to the side on his head and a medium-length tail of the same colour that flapped in the wind and, of course, two feathery wings that didn't need to work like fury to lift him off the ground. On his flank was a cutie mark resembling a blue droplet of water- though he had no idea what it meant, as Changeling cutie marks are considered random most of the time- etched onto plain white fur.
Pegasi, he thought, were possibly the most courageous of the three pony races. Evolution, it seems, had favoured the usage of wings- possibly the most dangerous and difficult form of transportation for any animal- and yet they used such a commodity daily to get around, manipulate weather to their will. Although, pegasi were apparently as common on the ground as earth ponies. This, he thought with a small grin, would be a wonderful disguise to get into the pony city.
It took a very, very long time before the Changeling- or, pony, whichever he could truthfully be called- reached Canterlot. The shield had been taken down as the pony princess had decided that his race wouldn't be coming back for a while, so he could freely land onto a roof and examine what the loud noises were. It was so strange; the ponies made exactly the same noises when they were running in fear or being consumed to when they were celebrating in a crowd. Even weeks after the attack, the ponies were still screaming, albeit for a different reason- celebration.
But what they were celebrating was the thing that caught his attention most of all. Along the major road to the castle were crowds of ponies in their thousands standing on either side as a group of six walked along it, cheering, throwing confetti and balloons and flowers. The Changeling recognised that group instantly; the yellow pegasus that had tried to fool them, the orange mare who had the most painful kick he had ever felt, the blue pegasus with the annoyingly bright mane who had managed to trick them so well, the white unicorn with the richly extravagant mane who had tried to flatter them and the pink mare who had treated the whole thing as a game before retrieving a cannon from seemingly nowhere and wiping them out like tissue paper. But the unicorn at the front, with the purple coat and darker violet hair and pointy-shape cutie mark, was the one that really made his blood boil; she looked so happy, so pleased with herself for crushing his fellow Changelings.
But no, it wasn't really her who did it. It was the alicorn and unicorn behind them wearing those meaningless rings on their horns who had cast the Changeling Queen and her children back; they had done something powerful, maybe even more so than his Queen, and it had sent them all clean away like an explosion.
"Thank you very much!" The purple unicorn spoke aloud to the crowds of ponies, "It took a long time, but we've cleaned up Canterlot and witnessed the wedding of Princess Cadence and Shining Armour!"
Oh, so that was their names. He would try to remember them as his race tore out their throats in coming months.
"Twilight's friends are returning home now," The pink alicorn named Cadence continued, "And we're all very grateful for their help in defeating the Changelings invaders." The crowd followed this with an eruption of applause, whistling and screaming- there it was again- before the six ponies boarded a carriage pulled by two stallion pegasi.
Wait. This wasn't their home?
He turned away from the crowds of applauding ponies to watch the carriage as it departed and drifted smoothly forwards on its descent to the ground. The sun had already begun to set as he followed it like a hunter stalking his prey, darting from cloud to cloud to avoid being spotted. The carriage didn't take long to reach the ground from the soaring peaks of the mountain Canterlot was perched on.
Ponyville? That was where they lived?
Back in the hatchery, he remembered, they had taught him and the other hatchlings which cities were the densest with the richest prey. They had covered Manehatten, Fillydelphia and Las Pegasus, but not one single mention of Ponyville had been made, other than that a pony princess visited every now and again.
How could six important- no, not important, just overly adored- ponies come from a place that his Queen could destroy with one flick of the hoof? It made no sense to him. Did their princesses have no logic, leaving all six of their most powerful weapons in one small, pathetic cluster of houses.
Observing from the bushes, he watched them all greet the other ponies of the village who had been waiting for them- a grey-and-blonde pegasus with peculiar eyes, an earth pony with extravagant hair and some kind of hat that covered both her ears but not her head who was beating her head to music nopony else could hear, to name just two- and then splitting up and heading in six different directions. It was dark by now and most of the ponies were returning home, so he stepped out of the bush and quietly trotted after the purple unicorn that was his target, just as it began to spit with rain.