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// Chapter 1 - The Desert 
// Story: I Am A Soldier [Nanowrimo] 
// by GreyVestibule 
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Chapter One - The Desert


How long had it been since she'd walking through here? Nothing but sand and heat seemed to make up this place. Even the occasional wind wasn't that much of a relief—just another blast of hot air to remind her of the inhospitable nature of this place she had found herself in. Hole-filled limb after hole-filled limb stamped into the sand, the individual particles scraping ever so slightly into the carapace of the creature. She was equine like in appearance, the shape of her body roughly similar to the ponies who inhabited the region, or at least the region she had been in previously. There was no hair upon her though, just charcoal colored chitinous plates that made up her hard exterior. A sharp set of fangs hung out threateningly from her mouth, and instead of a mane, there was a hard, fin-like crest upon her neck. Her eyes were bright blue, almost entirely, differentiation of pupil or iris or white. A curved horn extended form her head, like some parody of a unicorn's own horn. Upon her back, insect-like wings. With both horn and wing features, one would perhaps say she resembled some strange attempt at making an image of an alicorn, were it not for her lacking height.
Alicorns... that was part of the reason she was out here in fact. Her kind, the changelings, had attempted to overtake this land, and they had almost succeeded too. While her kind had a form that would be considered grotesque by most, they had the benefit of being able to change their shape at will, and the greatest irony of their monstrous appearance was that they fed on love. Their leader, Queen Chrysalis, had replaced one of the princesses of this land in a gambit to gain a neigh limitless supply of the emotion. But then, something terrible must of happening, for as the changelings started to fight against the ponies in the city, they were eventually struck by an immense wave of force, which sent almost the entire hive in all directions.
And that was why she was here. She was a soldier, a member of the caste of her hive who specialized in combat, in contrast to those who took on other specialty roles such as infiltration. And that was all she had been her entirely life really. Before she was a soldier, she was just another drone in the hive who needed find her place. She was happy to be a soldier, as much as she could be at least. soldier didn't need a name so long as she could fill that purpose. The soldier was useful. The soldier contributed. And for that, she was rewarded with the stipends of love that the infiltrators brought back to the hive. But now she could do none of those things—she was separated from all the other changelings utterly after being thrown off course. The feeling of being struck by the magic had been intense, as though her whole body had been slammed by some force. It had been so intense that she had been knocked out of her senses by the time she landed. The only reason she hadn't been more seriously injured was likely a combination of the sand diffusing her weight, and the hardiness of her physiology.
For the soldier, it had been worrying to wake up and have no other members of the hive around. Besides the fact that she had been laying in the hot sun, in was disconcerting to have no other instructions. The invasion of the pony city was an all-or-nothing plan, they needed to either succeed or else there would be no point in retreat. No contingency had been made for if victory had not happened. That could be coped with though if there had been at least a Coordinator around, or one of the other caste of changelings who could fill a leadership role. But as the soldier looked around, sniffed around, trying to pick up the pheromones of nearby changelings, the soldier was disappointed, anxious to discover there had been nothing, no sign. She spent an indefinite amount of time in a state of panic, indecisive about what to do with no Coordinator to issue orders. Running through the sand and rocks, soldier first stopped in the shade of a large stone formation, allowing herself a moment to cool down and try to assess the situation. She needed to find a source for orders. The soldier dug into her memories, recalling how the changelings had come to the pony city from the original colony by following north from a swamp then west, past some mountains. The soldier didn't know where she was with relation to the city, but it made sense that going in the opposite direction, south and east, might lead her back to the colony, if not other members, maybe even a Coordinator of the hive.
South and east – the soldier thought upon how to determine that. The sun. the sun rose in the east and set in the west. All she needed to do was wait and see which direction the sun moved, and then she would know. The soldier knew what she had to do, she had her task. Taking a few rocks, she placed them upon the lines of the shadow of the formation she sat beneath. All she needed to do then was wait. Waiting within the relatively coolness of the shade, the soldier rested and tried to figure out what else she needed to do. After the effort she expended during the invasion, as well as the need to recover after her landing, the soldier estimated she  had about two days before she risked succumbing to malnourishment. That meant she either needed find a fellow changeling who had an excess of love or potentially find a pony she could feed on in that time. She did not look forward to the latter, as infiltration was not her specialty, and the soldier did not know if would be in the state to take a pony by force in her natural form.
As she waited, the soldier eventually decided to try flying up to see if she could spot anything useful, maybe a settlement. It was then though, that soldier had discovered something else. She had thought it just a minor discomfort at the time, but as soldier tried to spread her wings, she felt a sharp pain shoot through her. She looked back over herself to see parts of her wings bent in ways they should not be. Thinking upon it, soldier did recall that she had woken up on her back. Perhaps the fall had taken more out of her than she thought. This was a problem. soldier could perhaps dip into her reserves of love nectar, try to use her changeling magic to accelerate her healing, but that would severely decrease her operating time, quite possibly to the end of the day. What should she do? The soldier eventually realized, to her embarrassment, that she had sent out a pheromone signal asking for counsel. But there was no Coordinator, no Queen to tell her what to do. soldier needed to figure this out on her own. The soldier eventually settled on not healing herself. The memory of the high payoff, but high risk engagement made her think it might be better to play it safe and extend her operating time. She wasn't completely certain about her decision, in fact it was one that ate at her as she waited for the sun to move, but she had little other choice. She needed to operate independently for now, and there was no way around that until she found another of her kind.
Having time's slow, torturous passage, the soldier was relieved to look up and see a noticeable shift in shadow. With the sun no longer directly over head and the shadows overtaking the rocks, soldier now had her direction. East, this way was east. While the desert heat was oppressive, the soldier went on with a greater sense of confidence than before. She knew what she needed to do, and the soldier hung onto the feeling as tightly as she could, allowing it to motivate her into going on. The feeling didn't remain strong forever, but for her it was better than nothing. She had fought for the hive despite grievous injury before, she had marched a long time on rationed love before, the soldier felt she could suffer through this. 
The world would continue to impede her progress though. As the soldier pressed on, she found herself enjoying the brief moments of pleasant temperature as the sun set, no longer baking her within her own carapace. However, this was not long lived as the opposing temperature became predominant, the air and sand beneath the soldier becoming cold. This was not helped by the fact that soldier was becoming quite tired. She swore she could feel the energy being sapped out of her by the cold, heat draining through hooves into the sand below. For a brief moment, soldier wondered if this was what it was like for a pony to be taken of it's love. Pressing on, trying to find a place where she might stop and recover, the soldier briefly had a feeling of relief at seeing what looked like a wagon. That likely meant a pony was nearby, one the soldier could hopefully subsist upon. Slowly approaching, the soldier tried to scout out the situation and see how she might approach. However, there was no pony to be seen around the wagon, and the soldier took a whiff of the place, trying to figure out if she could smell one. She could faintly smell a trace upon the wagon, but it was clear that such a pony would have been here a long time ago. An inspection of the wheels, which were partially buried in the sand, corroborated this. soldier collapsed onto the ground, discouraged. She eyed the remnants of a campfire, which would have felt nice about now, having that heat. Shaking her head though, the soldier realized there would be no point in lamenting this lost hope. She would just have to keep pressing. At the very least, the wagon could serve as a shelter for now. Looking inside, the soldier could see a small spider web int eh corner, but nothing else to indicate another resident. Good, she had this at least. A ragged, thread-bare blanket was within a chest, it would have to suffice for trying to fend off the cold. The smell upon the blanket was still old, but the soldier could smell a little more closely who once owned it. A mare it seemed. soldier also sniffed the air for a moment, hoping to pick up a sign of a changeling, but nothing was there. Wishful thinking, in the end.
Laying her head down, the soldier eventually managed to find a semblance of sleep, shivering against the cold for a while before she fell unconscious.

Sleep wound up being a difficult affair for the soldier. It seemed like no matter what she could not find any  comfort in how she laid. The blanket provided a small modicum of protection, but in the end, soldier kept waking up periodically. Partially, it was a matter of the need for alertness, something which she did not expect. It was perhaps a long neglected instinct that was instilled from the need to be alert when alone, knowing on some level that she had no others watching over her, or perhaps she still had a an internal clock that was linked to a need to be able to change shifts with her fellow soldiers to guard the hive. Either way, it was something which prevented the soldier from a full night sleep. It was upsetting both for how much rest the changeling needed, as well as the need to conserve her nectar reserves. Needing to generate her own body heat likely did not help. Were she with the rest of her hive, she probably would be able to be comfortable with the ambient heat of her fellow changelings, as well as adding back with her own body. Thoughts, fantasies of finding her hive again wandered in the soldier's mind. She needed to return, needed to connect. It was wrong to be alone.
With her restlessness refusing to be dissuaded, soldier found herself looking into other containers. The wagon contained a few bits and baubles that, while not entirely practical, kept her mind busy during those periods of being awake. Thanks to her physiology, she could see in the dark to some degree, catching levels of light in which most other beings would have trouble. One of the thigns she found was an image of a pony. One of the ones with wings – pegasi, as she recalled. Capable of flight manipulating weather. The soldier didn't need to know everything, but being able to fight effectively meant that knowing this much at least was helpful in a pinch in a fight. She looked at the pegasus, a mare – perhaps the one this blanket belonged to? It would be impossible to know for sure without encountering her, which seemed unlikely by this point. Looking over the picture of the mare in question, soldier tried to take in as many details as possible. She was standing by another pony, this one wearing a mustache, wearing a large, dark wide-brimmed hat. A five- point star was located on (what the soldier assumed was a male) his clothing. The stallion and mare were looking at each other with expressions the soldier wasn't sure she understood. For a moment she thought they had expressions of contempt or disgust, but those were mixed with what she thought were expressions of smiles.
It was difficult to completely discern the picture's meaning without knowing cues about pony society, cut with the nature of the photo she was looking at, the soldier was having a harder time picking out details. When looking in the dark, the soldier had a limited capability to discern certain hues, having difficulty discerning exact colors, but she could tell that this picture had no color whatsoever--only shades of grey to differentiate the tones between black and white. soldier wanted to be able to have a convincing disguise, and this reference could potentially work. The issue of the lack of color was troubling though. The soldier was observant of ponies, but wasn't entirely sure she could put on a convincing disguise with only this much limited information. True, she had been in a disguise before, but that was when working in concert with infiltrators who knew what they were doing, and could correct her visuals and behavior as she went. Now...
It was another solemn reminder that she was alone. No hive, no backup. soldier shook her head before she was too pulled in by the anxiety. There was no sense in worrying. Worrying put her body into overdrive, which would need more energy. She would find another member of her hive. She had to. She just had to keep going, she would receive instructions eventually.
After a few more attempts at looking around, the soldier found some things she had passed over. Some sort of clipping device--for hair? And a metal disc that had a long piece of string tied through it. soldier realized it was something she saw within the details of the photograph of the mare. Glancing back at the photo, she could confirm that it belonged to the mare, seeing the string hanging around the neck of the mare in question. Decoration? The soldier barely remembered something that she had received during the communications with the Infiltrator caste, which was that such decorations could be useful for making oneself look more legitimately like one of the ponies. Something about implication of personality with ownership? It was strange to the soldier. Amidst the hive, individual ownership was a privilege which required immense loyalty to the hive--something afforded only to the named. Otherwise there was no point. Everything was belonged and shared amongst the hive. Even the Named only had their names because their exceptional natures benefited the hive. And if they were to work against the interests of the hive, become irregulars... The soldier had heard of Named being disappeared for such reasons. It made soldier glad she had no name, had no ambition beyond fulfilling the role as a member of her caste. She fit in. She was useful, and in due time she would be back in that niche.
With reminders to herself that she would have a place to return to, the soldier allowed herself to clam down and sleep again.

When morning arrived, the soldier didn't spend too long idle. She had a final looksee of the crates at hand, finding little of use. Most of what she found was scrap that would only slow her down. soldier had noticed a few other black and white pictures, which had included additional pictures of the mare, usually posing with other ponies. The soldier studied the images as closely as she could, feeling that it might be for the best if she allowed herself to take in the detail of these references as closely as possible. She was no infiltrator, and she needed to be able to blend in with ponies if she were to encounter them before a reliable source of nectar. In the end, the only extra the soldier permitted herself to take was the relatively lightweight neck decoration. She looked down at it for a moment as she wondered if this would really be enough to dissuade suspicion. Non-organic components could be imitated, but they had their limitations, since they needed to be connected to the changeling physically, and thus could not be taken off, not without incurring some level of harm at least, and potentially disappearing the illusion upon the item in question. At least, she recalled being told that by an Infiltrator once. So it potentially could work, but the soldier still had her doubts. What if she was misremembering some information? She knew that infiltration was no small feat, that was why it was it's own specialty caste after all. She recalled more than one time that she was being called out for being “uncanny”, being disturbing in some way to ponies by appearing perfectly pony but behaving in ways that were just different enough from a perfect imitation to be extremely noticeable. It was a strange idea to the soldier, that a small difference could cause such a disturbance. Would this little thing truly help then? Would she need to make other changes, maybe need more clothes? She knew there were several ponies that did not wear clothes, and it frustrated the soldier that she wasn't sure how to differentiate what was enough or what was called for. She considered the thin blanket before deciding it unnecessary, potentially detrimental to be carrying such a heat retaining element in the desert. Perhaps the neck decoration would be enough.
Getting back up and out of the abandoned wagon, the soldier set off in the direction the newly rising sun came from, it's heat starting to bake the sand. The sun... it was the only thing that had guided the soldier and yet ironically it was being controlled by the Sun Princess her people had attempted to overthrow. Did the Sun Princess know she was here? Was the soldier being guided to her doom? It seemed unlikely that a simple soldier such as herself would be personally targeted by such a being of power. Then again, maybe, the soldier figured, she was the last of her hive. Such a thought terrified her, even paralyzed her for a moment before the soldier shook the feeling off. There was no reason to suspect that the hive had been completely eradicated besides her. And besides, if there was no hive left, then the soldier had no reason to continue. She had no use, no role. And the soldier did not want to accept that possibility. She would continue on and find her place again.
So, the soldier did so, though not without incurring some changes in herself. The ground had gradually become less sandy, though it was still barely verdant, being a light brown, cracks running through various parts of the ground, which the soldier had curiously found herself trying to avoid stepping on. She was not sure why, except that the activity seemed to keep her mind busy with information so she did not have to wonder about the ultimate fate of her hive. The dryness of the soil lent to dustiness that did not help some of the sand sticking the soldier's carapace. In fact, a few times the soldier found herself looking over herself and finding that her slick, dark carapace was starting to turn tan from all the dust gathering up on her. It gummed up her wings a little as well, with particles getting into cracks in her exterior, eventually rubbing up against a more sensitive inner. It made the soldier hope she could find a source of water soon to bath in and ris herself of this irritation. She was no stranger to being dirty, especially on long walks, but not being part of a crowd somehow diminished her feeling of being able to focus. It was so much easier when one only really needed to focus on keeping with and being part of the group.
As she continued along, the soldier also made sure to take note of other features, trying to pull out patterns that could be useful. The color, shape, texture of the cacti she passed, amidst various other creatures which included several lizards, birds, and lesser bugs. If she was going to put on a disguise she needed to keep in mind a palette of colors she could work with, and at least these gave her a minor idea of what she could work with, even if they weren't direct, actual pony colors. Her eyes lingered on a distant mesa for a moment, the earthen colors, all their varieties spread across geological layers, giving further ideas. Her hooves brushed by the occasional brush, a welcome distraction  from the constant dry soil. Hopefully in time she would have better references, more useful ones at least, to work with in time.
The day was otherwise uneventful though, and there was little that impeded the soldier's path. The only true enemy was the Sun and the heat it produced. More than once, the soldier desperately sought for a source of shade to cool down. The tan color that was overtaking her carapace was probably for the best, considering her naturally darker coloration would have absorbed more heat. Small blessings, one might say. However, that did not settle another issue at hand that was disconcerting. For all the soldier knew, she was in the middle of an uninhabited zone. There were signs of life sure, but that didn't guarantee there would be any ponies, or other changelings, who might be able to help in some capacity. At this rate, the soldier was beginning to worry that it would be bad even if she ran into another of her kind, chances were they were just as much in trouble as she was, in need of nectar or raw love similarly. The soldier didn't stop until the sun had passed well beyond the horizon, and unfortunately this time she didn't have a wagon that could serve as cover against the cold night. So instead, she did what she had to and hunkered down, preparing for a long, chilly time. She almost wished she had heeded the thought to bring the blanket along, except even that had the potential to set her back, since she would have needed to carry that the entire stretch of the day, which carried that overheat risk.
So, the soldier did her best with what she had. Laying down at first, she tried to find some sleep, but kept feeling nervous about seeing movement. It was just random wildlife, but it still bothered her. She felt as though she were working both sleep shift and guard shift at the same time. She looked around the area, and feeling uncomfortable the lack of a definite boundary, found herself going around in a circle for a moment, using her horn to mark out an area—her official perimeter. Everything within the circle was her safe zone. She did not need to worry about anything beyond it. None of the creatures, none of the plants, nothing. It still left room for trouble in dealing with the cold, but at least the soldier didn't have so much getting in her way.

The hot, overbearing sun eventually awoke the soldier. Her sleep had become significantly more tolerable in the modest temperatures of early morning, which was welcome after last night's troubles. However, that comfort did not fill another problem that was starting to eat away inside of her—her nectar reserves. She had maybe another day, maybe. There was no telling if that would lead to anything good. The soldier was beginning to wonder if she should have done anything differently before. Should she have tried to heal her wings? Get a better view of the surrounding area? Would another direction have been better? After all, the soldier had only considered one rationale, which was returning to the original colony. What if there were still changelings in other parts of the pony lands that were still successfully disguised, places she missed because she simply did not go in their direction? The soldier eventually realized she had stopped moving, and was merely staring ahead. She looked back behind herself. There was no sense in trying the opposing direction, she would likely perish before encountering anything different. The soldier then considered the north and south. She knew she would be heading south eventually, but there was nothing in that direction, nor to the north, at least as far as her eyes could see. Looking back to the east, soldier took a deep breath, and continued. Regret was pointless. This had so far been the most logical direction to go in—it was the direction she had essentially ordered herself to go in, and there was no reason to countermand the order. She would live or die by that decision. At the very least, it gave her some feeling of comfort to know she was following an order of some sort, even if it was just one given herself.
So, the soldier continued on, baring through the weather that threatened her. A few times, she started to stumble, crashing into the dirt twice. Standing up from her latest fall, the soldier didn't even bother making a motion to shake off the stray particles from he body, electing to let them simply fall off her as she walked. It could wait. She just needed to focus on moving. There had to be something ahead, she kept thinking to herself. There had to be an objective within reach. Eventually, a change in scenery convinced the soldier she might be right. It was still natural scenery, but the small canyon was a welcome change. With the angle the sun was at, she could at least trace the path within while remaining within the shade cast by the canyon walls. Unfortunately there was no sign of water other than a dry riverbed, so the soldier continued on, dirty as ever. On the other hand, there was fortune not only form the shade, but the wind that was cutting through the place, it truly felt relieving. What brought the soldier an even bigger relief though, was when a faint smell hit her nose. Ponies? Could it be she had a chance of rejuvenating herself then? Pressing on, feeling slightly revived by this new possible hope, the soldier trotted along confidently. For the first time in a long time she genuinely felt like she had a hope in this place. The smell was becoming increasingly fresher as well. The likelihood of a pony being there, as opposed to perhaps having been there at one point a while ago, was increasing.
The soldier eventually come to a stop at a cave where she thought she could practically taste the wafting odors coming from within. There were material smells of course, like fiber (most likely clothing), metal, sweat. But there were also the smell given off by emotions, pheromones that the ponies themselves were blind to yet could be effected by. Pride, happiness, excitement – they weren't love, but they were still positive emotions. Such feelings could be acceptable substitutes in a pinch, better than nothing at least. There was another set of emotions in there though. Fear, distress. Significantly less prominent, but still there none the less, giving the tastes of emotion a somewhat bitter aftertaste. The soldier figured it didn't matter that much in the end though—she'd just skip out on whomever that was. This left another question in her mind though, which was how exactly she would accomplish this. Again, she was no infiltrator. Should she separate the ponies inside and feed on them individually? She could use the darkness inside to her benefit in that regard. She wouldn't even need to change form. On the other hand though, that brought up another question. Surely the ponies inside this cave would not be so foolish as to be a place they could not see, right? Artificial lighting was possible. Disguising herself seemed best with that in mind, but the soldier did not like the idea of pulling on that much energy when she was so close to low—her disguise might come off. She wasn't entirely sure, she'd never pressed herself so hard as to be on the brink of starving.
Choosing to go in without a disguise at first, wanting to put off that option as long as possible, the soldier stepped into the cave. Muscles within her eyes moved, adapted to the low levels of lighting to rate and degree that would most likely be envied by the very sort of ponies she was hoping to feed on. Continuing through the rock, eventually reaching a few bends in the way, the soldier finally saw some brighter patches that would indicate lighting – some basic torches from the look of it, going around a curved path. And there was another thing... the sound of laughter, a ruckus, celebration. The soldier was still for a moment before proceeding on, stopping as she realize the tunnel was opening up to a room around the bend that was lit with several times more luminosity. A disguise would likely be a necessity at this point. Resigning to this fact, the soldier took a few steps back and tapped into her dwindling nectar, calling on her changeling magic. Green flames flickered around her, changing her shape where it touched. Soon, where once was a changeling was a pegasus, one which resembled the photo she had observed, though naturally with improvisations. Her coat was a brown red, not unlike some of the mesa's she had seen, with a long, tied back mane which towed the line between green and a very dark blue. Glancing down at the neck decoration, the soldier figured it probably looked good enough as it was. Her stomach was tying knots, but the soldier convinced herself to turn her thoughts away from that. She would be able to feed herself soon. Stepping out of the dark and into the light, the seeming Pegasus was feeling extreme discomfort when she realized she was the center of attention of several eyes. Two stallions and a mare, standing around a fire. And in a corner of the cave, what the soldier was thinking was the likely source of the fear she had smelled before. A small colt, tied up and gagged. What had happened here? Why was this happening like this? Every time before she'd been involved in something like this, she'd--
The soldier would have smacked herself if she didn't realize what a fool she'd been. She recalled now, how all other previous times, infiltrators would at least help her by pointing out context clues, getting a “feel” for the room which included what was being discussed. She couldn't even give apathetic try at joining their conversation. What should she do now? What was appropriate in this situation? Greetings came to mind. She remembered simple greetings. And smiling? No, wait... She recalled feedback from previous work with infiltrators. She was told she always seemed to try to hard to express emotions as a pony – supposedly she looked more threatening than anything else. With the silence lingering for an uncomfortable moment, the soldier maintained her stoic expression, speaking simply and flatly.
“Hello.”
The silence was maintained for a moment, but not for long. Soon enough, there was another joyous expression, laughter. The tension that had permeated the room was still somewhat present but by now had been replaced in part by amusement.
“Well, well, look at dusty here,” one of the mares remarked, “Seems someone decided to go somewhere they shouldn't.”
The soldier was not supposed to be here? That could be a problem.
“Guess we got ourselves a mare wanting to play hero here then. Wandered all over the desert too from the look of it,” one of the stallions commented.
This was becoming an increasingly difficult scenario to deal with. The soldier was not good with dealing with social situations, she knew that, but needing to face this alone was just driving this home. What did the infiltrators say to do in a situation like this? She remembered receiving some instructions, though she wasn't entirely sure... she remembered something about bouncing back responses. Working with their words.
"Yes, I am playing hero," she finally spoke, again flatly.
She certainly hoped it would work. The 'playing' sounded vaguely familiar when she thought about it. Frivolity, harmless, most likely at least. Maybe if she was intruding somewhere and claiming to be playing she could get away with pretending she had intruded unintentionally. 
“I have been walking for a very long time,” she went on.
Continuing to sample the emotions, having not just the pheromone traces but actual active feelings permeating the room, the soldier was getting the feeling she had not been successful in what she sought to do. While there was some amusement, the hostile intent was becoming uncomfortably clear—it was like an electric buzz, “sour” might be the closest analogy to actual taste that could be described in terms of what the feeling was to a changeling palette. The only exception was the mixture of fear, confusion and... hope? Which radiated from the restrained colt.
“Well sorry to disappoint ya miss, but there's not gonna be any heroics today,” one of the stallions, a green colored one who appeared to be the largest of the group. He pulled a long length of fiber – a whip, the soldier realized – from a bag on the ground.
“I do not wish to fight,” the soldier tried, wanting to avert this situation. Her stern, careful tone did not carry such an intent though. 
“Shouldn't have come out all this way then,” the mare warned, telekinesis activating from her horn to pull out a knife as she closed in on the soldier.
“Because trust us missy, we ain't no do gooders that'll roll over just like that,” the second stallion smirked.
Social interaction had failed. It was becoming increasingly obvious that this situation was becoming one that could only be solved with some application of what the soldier was best at, fighting. The soldier's fight or flight survival instinct kicked in, almost painfully so. Her disguise had already done a number on her nectar reserves, and this fight would be on fumes. For a brief moment it felt like time slowed down as the soldier's brain figuratively overclocked, considering the variables at hand—it was a lesser version of the capabilities that were coordinator, though they could maintain the state for a long, sustained period of time. For the soldier, as with all soldiers, this was an ability meant and used in the short term, as stop gaps for temporary tactical maneuvers when it was necessary.
Retreat was possible, but chances of survival after that were next to nothing. The soldier's reserves would run dry before she could be anywhere outside the canyon, and she might even be followed anyways. Retreat was not a good option. What was possible for advancing though? The soldier needed a quick, efficient way to end combat. Current personnel on the field on the field was one unit, which was to say, herself. Three enemy combatants were fielded against her, including Red Unicorn Mare, armaments included a knife, plus several more from the looks of the belt draped over her. Green Earth Pony Stallion, armaments included a whip. Blue Earth Pony Stallion, no armaments. Finally, one restrained non-combatant of unknown affiliation, though it was likely safe to assume the colt was not allied with the confirmed enemy units. The colt could possibly be interrogated later. She'd need to maintain her disguise though. In the meantime, the soldier needed to finish this as quickly and efficiently as possible, Rushing in was not advisable. With the whip-wielding stallion in the middle, and the other ponies on the sides, she was likely to be flanked and taken down immediately. What else could help though? The fire. Ponies suffered severe deficiencies in combat effectiveness during periods of low light – meanwhile, the soldier could see well in the dark, and also had the benefit of emotion sensing. She might even be able to drop her disguise for a moment. How to take the fire out though...
The soldier could feel her brain's overtaxed thinking go back down. This was unwanted, but she would have to deal with it. She'd follow her line of tactics as closely as she could at least. She gave a “Ready” pheromone signal that would never be received by a commander, and charged forward – not into blind run though, she'd already made that assessment. Instead, she rapidly flapped her wings, kicking up the  loose dirt on the floor. It hurt immensely, unfortunately, since the damage she had suffered was still present in the pegasus wings, but the soldier was willing to tolerate the pain if it meant being able to survive this conflict. This caught all three enemies off guard, but the soldier did not allow herself to stand in confidence too long. She made a long leap over the enemies, her wings unfortunately not providing as much assistance as would have been preferred, but at least she made it.. With the ponies coming back to their previous effectiveness, the dust no longer in their eyes, the re-aimed their efforts. The unicorn threw the knife with her telekinesis, The soldier in turn quickly ducking to avoid the projectile blade. Where it struck, the soldier heard the tell take sound of trickling fluid. She dared a quick glance, seeing that the blade had struck hard and deep into a wooden barrel, which had been stacked alongside some of other barrels.
“Watch where you're aiming Thorn, you almost hit the whiskey barrel!” the whip wielding stallion chastised.
“Yeah, yeah,” the mare spoke dismissively, “Don't worry I won't spill your precious whiskey.”
Taking advantage of the enemies bickering among themselves (what a stupid trait, it's a wonder ponies could take on changelings in fights which how discordant they could be), the soldier ran again with a short jump, got on top of the water barrel and kicked it with her hind legs towards the fire, though soon after she was struck by a tackle from the unarmed stallion. 
“Gotcha!”
The soldier tried to roll with the momentum, managing to eventually push herself away from the strong earth pony with enough circular movement, gaining a little air as she did so. The soldier was starting to feel exceptionally haggard though. She needed to end this conflict immediately. Flying down, she shoved the water barrel forward just a little more to get it over the fire.
“What is she--” the green stallion wondered for barely more a second before realization dawned on his face and he came forward, trying to get his whip around the soldier. She managed to strike the barrel just as she was caught though, the water spilling out onto the fire.
“Damn – Blueberry, get one of the torches!” the green stallion shouted.
The unarmed blue one already seemed to be on it rushing for the tunnel that led into the room. The soldier struggled, but the whip's grip on her was tenacious. She had a potential advantage now though. A brief green flash filled the room before it returned to darkness. The soldier attacked savagely, biting with fangs at the green stallion to at least get him to drop his whip. The unicorn seemed to panic, animated several daggers with telekinesis, the magic glow coming off of them essentially useless for lighting the area thankfully. What wasn't thankful was how quickly and wildly she was flailing the weapons. The soldier found herself struck a few times, some of them even successfully breaking through her chitin armored exterior. This was bad, this was very bad. The soldier leapt back, collapsing on one of her hind legs for a moment as the pain from a wound briefly brought her down. The unicorn appeared to overexert herself though, and in the dark did not realize the blind spots she had opened up. Going around her, the soldier eventually leaped and gave her a quick blow to the head, leaving her on the floor, moaning in pain.
Seeing the coming light of the final enemy combatant, the soldier retreated to the shadows. Her likelihood of getting information seemed to be low at this point. Would she be seen? Would it be better to seek an alternative at this point? She was going to need to knock out the last stallion, but the non-combatant might see her. Should she disappear the colt and try to replace one of the adult ponies instead? No, they seemed too tight knit, and it was clear the soldier was not adapt at infiltration. Best case scenario seemed to require a “created” identity. Maybe if she was quick, or... The soldier eyed the situation from the shadows. She'd just need to pick the right angle. Attack while the stallion was directly between her and the colt. That would work. Or at least, it was most likely to work. The stallion came in, looking over his allies. He was not turned away though, which was a disadvantage, though we was in the ideal position otherwise.
“Good gravy, how did she--” the stallion did not have long before the face – the natural face – of the soldier was upon him. The gigantic, insect-like features inspired a gigantic spur of terror from him, “Oh Celest--!”
The stallion's cry for his god-like ruler was cut short by a tackle that force him to drop his torch. The soldier essentially mauled him, though left him alive. She needed him conscious. Touching her horn to him, there was a brief green spark, the pony jerking for a moment before going still, unconcious. There was little positive emotion to pull out of him, and it was the same case for the others. What little positivity there was seemed to be leftover residue from their merriment before she arrived. Hardly filling, it was barely even worthy of being called a snack. However, there was still that sweet smelling morsel tied up in the dark, making muffled sounds through his restraints.
The soldier walked over to where the colt was, looking over him with an analytical eye. His own eyes were darting all over the place, perhaps trying to see in this darkness. The fear mixed in with his hope was starting to build, that would not do. The soldier removed the restraints from his mouth, causing a wave a relief to wash out from the colt.
"Oh Celestia, thank you!" The young one gasped, "I was worried they would actually..." he shook his head as tried to throw off a dark thought, "Well thanks, do you think you could untie the rest of me miss? Please?"
The soldier wondered if maybe she should not do so, but as it was, she had a chance of a useful ally in this one. It might engender more trust as well to offer an assisting action. She would need to stall for awhile though -- she would need to eventually change her shape, before she went back out into the light.
"Hold still," she instructed, "Where do you live?"
The soldier could feel the waves of relief of joy coming off the young one, filling her stomach by a little bit. It wasn't too substantial, but it was more than she had gotten from the attackers. It was so tempting to dig in right now and take  some of that by force, to fill her straving belly, but she knew it would be no good to do so. She'd never fed on something so small and she didn't want to risk making in unconcious from having too much all at once -- she needed to know where to go.
"Apploosa," the young one said, "You mean you weren't sent hear?"
Apploosa. The soldier did not know the context of that name. It was virtually meaningless to her.
"I was not sent," The soldier confirmed, "I do not know where Apploosa is."
"It's, uh... um... well..." the colt mumbled.
"Which direction? North, east, south?" The soldier spoke with a terse, insistent monotone that sounded a little irritated.
"S-sorry, um, northeast? I think?"
The uncertain words of the colt were not reassuring. The soldier needed a definite direction to go in, otherwise this was all for naught.
"Could you provide more definite direction if you could see?" The soldier inquired.
"I think so, yeah. Thankfully those bozos didn't have the sense blindfold me."
So, either take the youth at his word, harvest some of his positivity and carry him without disguise until he awoke, or disguise herself and get a better chance of reaching this Apploosa place.
"Miss? Could you please loosen up my front hooves?"
“Wait,” the soldier ordered, leaning in closer as she tried to make her decision, while making motions as though she were working her teeth on the binding ropes.
There was a slight chance this could work out. The hope coming off the colt was building back her energy, and she could probably sustain herself on that in disguise for as long as they traveled, assuming that was maintained. Untying seemed like it could work, less potentially risky than being spotting while in her natural form at least while carrying the colt.
“And uh... I hate to potentially be rude, but what happened to your voice? It's kinda weird.”
The soldier didn't stop untying the colt, but she did think quickly. She felt disappointed in herself for not thinking to cover that up. She was so used to thinking of spoken word as being for ponies that she didn't think twice about masking her natural voice.
“There is dust in my throat,” she explained away.
“Oh, okay,” the colt said. The soldier could still sense some doubt, but the colt seemed otherwise not concerned about focusing on that as much.
“You are unbound,” the soldier announced, “Go outside, I will join you shortly,”
“Alright! Thanks miss, I'll see you there!” the colt said, heading for what bare amount of light there was in the tunnel leading outside, though not without some stumbling in the dark.
With the colt finally out of sight, the soldier concentrated once more, assuming the guise she had been wearing previously. She looked down at the hooves, noticing that they were still wet from the tussle in the dark. It had washed off some of the dust and sand that had been building up down there, but there was still plenty elsewhere. The spilled water from before had already been soaked into the thirsty earth though. Probably for the best—she was just as likely to get dirty again if she were to try to dip herself in the pools of water there had briefly been. Remembering the other barrels, the soldier managed to pry open one of the them, ripping off bits of hit with her fanged teeth. When her tongue actually touched the fluid inside though, she immediately hissed and recoiled, stress pheromones signaling from her to indicate being hurt. This fluid burned her! Or at least, it burned her tongue. This must have been the 'whiskey' the enemy ponies had been talking about. She wasn't about to pour this out over herself, absolutely not. She'd just have to tolerate her dirty state awhile longer.
Getting out of the cave, the soldier was soon greeted by the smiling face of the young colt and the waves of his sweet happiness, though there was also a minor feeling of irritation.
“What took ya so long?” he asked.
“I needed a drink. For the dust in my throat,” the soldier said.
“Huh, alright, that makes sense. You sounded kinda funny there,” the colt said, his smile twisting a bit with some amusement.
“Yes, I did,” the soldier repeated back, though not without remembering what was more important “Let's go, to Apploosa.”
“Oh right – yeah, we just gotta head this way for a while. There's a switchback trail that goes up the canyon.”
The little colt rushed ahead, the soldier soon following behind.
“I sure am grateful to run into ya miss, awful lucky too – who are ya anyway, and where are you from? It's mighty strange that you wouldn't know where Apploosa is.”
The line of questioning was worrying, but the soldier could sense that there was no suspicion behind it, just genuine curiosity. What should she say though? She obviously couldn't tell the truth. She needed a name though to be referred by, it would probably seem suspicious not to give one... Wait, what was one of those other ponies addressed her as?
“Dusty. My name is Dusty,” the soldier explained, “I am from far away. I had been traveling through the desert for a long time,”
“Huh, well that... actually explains a lot actually,” the colt thought aloud.
That seemed good then, if only that much would satisfy the question of identity. The soldier committed that explanation to memory.
“Who are you?” the soldier asked in turned. She would need information as well, and this seemed like as good an opportunity as any. She observed the colt as well. Earth pony. A light red color with a mane of yellow-green. No mark on his flank. He must be especially young then – soldier knew enough about ponies that she knew such a mark was associated with adulthood and growth.
“Oh, my name's Cameo,” the colt said with a brief look back at the soldier, “I'm not precisely from Apploosa myself, hehe, I'm just visiting my cousin there for a while.”
“I see,” the soldier responded simply.
She had been worried for a moment at the mention of him not being from the place in question, but she supposed it didn't matter so much. The soldier wasn't sure what a cousin was, but it sounded like it would be worth remembering.
“Do you know who those other ponies were back there?” the soldier further inquired.
“Yeah! I mean, well, not a lot, but kinda? I mean I know they're criminals. Um, the green one is their ring-leader I think... Oh yeah, I remember, my cousin was cursing him out! Uh, it was Scornful something. I mean it was either that or son of a--”
Criminals... soldier vaguely remembered that term. She thought she recalled infiltrator's trying to explain the term to her. It was kind of like an irregular. It seemed redundant to the soldier seemed the ponies pervasive individuality seemed like nothing but irregularity, but remembered it being described as being irregular by the irregular standards of ponies. Which seemed awful discordant to the soldier. How could ponies ever gather together long enough without causing trouble?
“They are unwanted then,” the soldier figured.
“Are you kidding? They're wanted dead or alive for... for... I forget how much, but I know it's a ton of bits. I do remember seeing their faces on the wanted posters,” Cameo said with a chuckle.
This was getting incredibly confusing for the soldier. Wanted. Dead or Alive. And what was that about bits? Those were – wait, those were the small metal discs ponies carried if soldier remembered correctly. Should she inquire further?
“Honestly, ya probably should have hog-tied 'em and set 'em for bringing in for the reward while you had the chance. I mean you didn't have anything to carry them with, but... well... gosh, with the unicorn she could have untied those ropes as soon as she got up so... I dunno...”
The colt seemed uncertain about his own information, which was worrying. If this was a sign of a fragmented or false basis of information, the soldier worried about the implications of what she knew coming into this Apploosa. She was already having difficulty working with what she had coming into this situation. At the very least, the soldier had by now figured it would not be a good idea to inquire about the 'wanted' matter.
After a little more running, the two found themselves at the switchback trail that zigzagged up the canyon wall.
“Race ya to the top, Dusty!” Cameo challenged.
A competition? Why? The soldier sighed before simply accepting it. The colt had a another positive burst of enjoyment as he started up – it was all the better to just accept it and follow, staying in range of that positivity. The soldier followed at first, simply copy Cameo's movements for a moment before improving her motions, making herself more efficient, unfortunately she still couldn't use her wings, which could have made the ascent smoother, but then there was no helping that. She didn't overtake the colt though – she felt no need to overexert herself and drain her energy more than she needed to, and besides, the colt's enjoyment seemed to remain about the same anyway. Tracking along behind Cameo, the soldier continued  accrue more dust on herself with all that was was being kicked up by the young colt.
“I won!” the colt declared proudly at the top as the soldier gradually caught back up.
“Yes, you won,” the soldier repeated dully.
There was a drop in Cameo's emotional state after she spoke. Great, what did she do this time?	“Um, I'm sorry if this is too much, I mean, I suppose you have been out here already as is, judging from what you were saying back there,” Cameo spoke up sheepishly.
… That was why the colt's mood had dropped so much? Well, at least it showed a link between the two, on a level of her well-being seeming important to him. It seemed to imply she was worth keeping around, as far as she could ascertain. She still couldn't be sure, but that at least seemed to be what she could potentially imply. And that was good, was it not?
“It would be more important to focus on getting back to Apploosa,” the soldier responded.
“Oh right! Yeah, I'm sure I can get you all the water and food and rest you could need. I mean, my family's gotta be willing to help you with a bed at least for the trouble you've been through. Speaking of—are your wings alright? They look kinda crooked.”
Ever inquisitive, this youth. As if the soldier needed any more reminder of the state her wings were in.
“Again, focus on Apploosa,” she insisted, “Speaking of the wings will not help them.”
“Alright then, if you insist – you're a real trooper ain't ya?”
A trooper – did the colt see through her disguise to her role somewhat? Did she seem like a soldier? Should she roll with it, like she had the last times? She knew the ponies had a military all their own at least, so maybe it wouldn't be a bad risk to say she was...
“Yes, I am a soldier,” she confirmed.
The colt's enthusiasm and excitement was nice for the soldier's stomach, provide at least a quick rush, but in terms of dealing with lines of questioning, that was another matter.
“That's so cool!” Cameo practically exploded, “Been in a bunch of battles then?”
“Yes.”
It was an understated, almost halting response. The soldier could sense some deep thoughts in Cameo again, much to her own disappointment. She really wanted and needed that more excited state.
“There is a problem with that?” she inquired back.
“Oh, uh, no, not really, It's just – I dunno. The way you said that, well it kind reminded, I mean well...” Cameo started talking, his incomplete sentences reflecting his rapidly moving state of mind, “I remember trying to talk to my grandpa about that, we was a soldier too ya see during uh, uh... I forget what it was, some big war with the griffins I think? Anyway, I remember trying to talk to him about that, but he'd tend to kinda, I dunno. He wouldn't be angry, but it's like he'd be kinda distant you know?”
The soldier did not understand but nodded her head anyway.
“And it's like,” Cameo went on, “I remember he'd say I should feel lucky if I never get in a war or nothin'. And that'd be the most of it sometimes. I don't quite get it though, it seems like it'd be fun being able to fight.”
“You do not appear to be an effective fighter,” The soldier noted, “You were captured.”
“Well yeah, but like, well, I mean if I learned how to fight well, then it would be cool! I think... I mean, do you think it's cool?” Cameo asked.
More questions. The soldier was beginning to wonder if she shouldn't have left the colt conscious.
“Fighting does happen in the cold sometimes,” she nodded. They were not comfortable times either.
“No no, I mean... gosh, the sun must have baked your head more than I thought... I mean, does it seem like it'd be awesome? Feel good to do? I mean that's why you do it right?”
Ponies and their oddities of language. It seemed ridiculous how much words had multiple meanings. Tough more at hand, how to respond?
“I fight because it's what I'm good at,” the soldier stated, “It feels 'awesome' because it's what I do to help, protecting those who are not good at fighting.”
There was uncertainty, confusion in Cameo's thoughts. The soldier snorted, a relief of built-up stress. The last thing she needed was this colt to go down this line of thought.
“How far away is Apploosa?” she inquired, figuring she might as well get an estimate out of this.
“Oh, I reckon we'll be there before the day is out,” Cameo nodded, “At least, judgin' by how long it took those crooks to abscond with me. You'll like it there, lotsa friendly folk.”
The soldier wasn't sure, but nodded her head anyway. She didn't really have much choice—this was simply the only light she had to follow, and hopefully this would eventually lead her back to the hive. So, she continued on, still baring with the hot sun as followed her young escort.