Chapter 8: Shadows of the City
Chapter 8: Shadows of the City
Meadow Song was feeling rather better in the morning. The long sleep had given her time to relax, even if the makeshift bed in the back of an alley was far less comfortable than the couch she had been eying the previous night, and the pair of wooden crates she had furiously reduced to splinters had offered a wonderfully cathartic experience. Now she was calm again, and rested, and able to think clearly. She still didn't understand exactly why that strange pony had done what he had, but she was at least over the fact that he had done it. Mostly.
Her renewed good mood was threatened the moment she stepped into the pub, only to have Wheatstalk stop what he was doing, fold his forelegs over the bar, and stare hard at her. "What did you do last night?"
She flinched a little at the harsh look, even before noticing that his emotions behind the expression were generally concerned, not angry. That did not, however, make the question any easier. Oh, sure, she knew what happened last night, but she couldn't think of anything she had done to have provoked such an angry-sounding question.
Well, I did threaten to kill a pony. Possibly even a whole building full of ponies. Even if he deserved it, I guess that might look... bad.
Bad enough that she certainly wasn't going to admit to it. "I didn't really do anything," she said, trying to act both confused and concerned. "Why?"
He scowled a little, eyes searching her face. It seemed like he wanted to believe her, but couldn't quite do so. "The Guard came looking for you."
Meadow's eyes went wide, a cold surge rushing through her. They know! The rising panic was promptly quashed. No, they can't know. Nopony even knows what a changeling is, much less that I am one. Still, the fact that the Guard had come looking for her was alarming.
"What did they want?" she asked, voice wavering a little.
"Didn't say," Wheatstalk said, sounding slightly annoyed. "But I've known Shield for years, he's come here many times looking to find somepony I might know, and I've never seen him that serious." He pointed a hoof to the stool closest to him. "So you're going to sit your flank down and tell me everything that happened after you left while we wait for him to come back by."
She didn't want to, but she didn't see any way out of it. Reluctantly, she sat, trying to think of where to start. "Well... I left with that Cherry Runner guy I'd been talking with--"
Wheatstalk sighed in exasperation, raising a hoof to massage at the bridge of his nose. "When I came back to find the both of you gone and your saddlebags still in the back room, I had hoped it wasn't what it looked like. I really thought you'd have better sense than that."
Meadow's ears drooped. "I didn't know what was going to happen," she said quietly. Mentally, she was scolding herself. Cherry's emotions had seemed strange for a pony, she should have taken that as a warning. What would Ceymi have said of a prospective infiltrator neglecting such a significant sign?
In the momentary quiet, she realized that Wheatstalk now seemed slightly confused, and a little more concerned. "And what did happen?"
"We went to his place," she said, shifting uncomfortably; looking vulnerable was a good way of stirring up sympathy, and if things were as bad as they looked, she could use all the sympathy she could get. "I thought we'd just hang out, talk some more, but then he got all huggy."
Wheatstalk's concern began to grow with every word. "I thought it was a little weird at first, but I didn't want to be rude. Then he... he stuck his tongue in my mouth. I-I kind of freaked out and pushed him away, and I tried to get away, but he came after me, tried to grab me. I just... I yelled until he backed off, then I got out of there." She gave a weak shrug. "Then I went home. Slept. The end."
By the time she had finished, Wheatstalk seemed horrified, yet completely full of sympathy. When she glanced back up to him, she caught a momentary wide-eyed, shocked look, but it was quickly hidden. "I... I'm sorry," he offered, quietly. "I see why Shield took it so seriously."
She just nodded a little, feeding on the sympathy and pity he was offering, and quite content with how well that had turned out. Not a single thing she had said was not true, and yet she'd given the impression that the stallion had practically attacked her. She hadn't expected Wheatstalk's reaction to have been so strong to that, but she supposed ponies were so soft that anything even remotely violent might be considered extreme. Put that way, it made a little sense, even if it still seemed excessive.
Glancing down at herself, she ruefully noted that her appearance probably helped her seem even more pitiable. She hadn't had the chance to clean up yet, and so her fur was disheveled and dirty in spots from the untidy nature of her sleeping arrangements. The time spent smashing crates in a dirty alleyway probably didn't help, either.
All those bits spent at the spa, and now I have nothing to show for it.
Wheatstalk had Flash Fire cook her up some breakfast, free of charge, and tried to offer his sympathies in that clumsy pony fashion of words and expressions, which Meadow at least found a little amusing. "Are you going to be okay?"
She replied with a weak smile. "Yeah, I think so." Just enough reassurance to appear appropriate, yet not enough to alleviate the concern that she wasn't. All this sympathy made for the best meal she'd had since leaving the orphanage. Not nearly so well as her time spent with Spark, but... well, that was in the past, now.
An hour passed, with Meadow trying not to anticipate what was coming. Despite how unreasonable it was, she couldn't help but feel a little nervous at the idea that she might have been discovered. Even when she tried to dismiss it, she stopped, reprimanding herself. As unlikely as it is, I shouldn't ignore the possibility. I should be ready to escape, just in case. If I were to play it totally safe, I'd leave now, take a new disguise, but... well, the chance is low enough to risk it.
Eventually, a white unicorn stallion in silver armor entered, followed by a light-gray pegasus mare in similar attire. True enough, the stallion did look rather serious, made even more so by the Guard armor he wore. He looked to Wheatstalk, who silently inclined his head toward Meadow. She, in turn, avoided looking toward them, choosing instead to focus on her hooves, resting on the table before her, while trying to look downcast.
In truth, she had to fight the urge to do something, anything, other than just sitting there while they approached. Just sitting there while a pair of Guards walked up to her, it took a force of will, particularly with one of them being a unicorn. A unicorn meant magic, which could be a problem. Her number-one escape plan was to fire-portal away, but another magic-user could complicate that. What if he had some form of counter-magic? That seemed like a fitting spell for a pony in the Guard.
More prominent than that concern, however, was the simple fact that they were Guards. She recognized that, more than any other pony, they were the enemy. The personification of authority, tasked with maintaining order and security, and if necessary, fighting. Guards like these were the ones actively working to uncover wrongdoing and subterfuge, who would pursue her should she be discovered, and who would kill her should she be caught.
The fact that these two were obviously not professional soldiers made little difference. They would be the lower class of Guard, simple militia types, responsible for patrolling and keeping order, not the elite soldiers of the Royal Guard she had heard so much of. They didn't even carry weapons, and their armor was likely more for show than for protection. Despite that, they were still Guards. They were the guardians that kept the changelings hiding in the shadows, the blade that hung over the neck of her entire species.
She tried to calm herself as anger began to overtake nervousness. She needed to stay calm, to deal with this professionally, not to let herself get tripped up by her own emotions.
There was little time to worry about that before the two Guards had stepped up to her. "Meadow Song?"
She looked up, hoping she looked as pitiable to them as she had to Wheatstalk. "Yes?"
"My name is Swift Shield, and this is Vigilance. We need to speak with you, ask some questions." He gestured over to a booth at the side of the room, offering a little more privacy. She nodded and followed along.
As soon as they settled in, he spoke again. "We got a rather alarming complaint today. A pony by the name of Cherry Runner came in, saying that you had threatened him."
Oh, good. It was that. Despite the worst case being dispatched, that still left her with the problem of a pair of Guard members expecting answers. Her first inclination was to simply deny it, but "simple," for all its merits, wasn't always best. Instead, she took a slightly different route.
"Well, of course I did," she said, cocking her ears to look just slightly confused. "But why did that bring you two out here?"
The response was predictable enough, just as Meadow had hoped. The guard frowned a little, eyes narrowing just a bit. "We take threats of death very seriously."
Meadow pulled her head back, widening her eyes to look shocked at the statement. "Death? What are you talking about?"
Swift Shield's expression didn't change. I suppose I shouldn't expect a Guard to be swayed quite so easily, she thought, before his partner spoke. "He told us that you threatened to kill him by setting the entire apartment building on fire."
She widened her eyes more, stammering out a few fragments of words as if she were too shocked to speak. Finally raising a hoof over her mouth--such a strange gesture of shock these ponies use--she spoke a little more clearly. "...Oh, sweet Celestia, that's... that's just... no!" She let the hoof drop, looking between the two Guards. "I-I threatened to hit him when he tried to grab me, but not..." She shuddered, slumping a bit in her seat. "That's horrible!"
Disappointingly, the guards still remained suspicious. "Perhaps you'd better tell us your side of the story," Swift Shield offered.
Shakily, she nodded and told them the same tale she had given to Wheatstalk. They listened expressionlessly as she spoke, but just like Wheatstalk, their feelings of concern grew as she neared the end of the tale.
"--and when he reached out to grab me, I... I just panicked, yelled that I'd hurt him if he touched me. It got him to back off for a moment, and that gave me enough time to get away." She shook her head unsteadily, a couple tears starting to dampen the fur of her cheek; being able to cry practically on demand was a useful skill, she thought, even if it meant focusing on painful memories she would much rather never bring to mind. Blinking, she looked back up to the two guards. "But I never said anything so... so awful as that."
They were unsure. They did an excellent job of hiding it, or at least they would have, had she been a pony. Outwardly, they seemed to be considering her words, but she could sense their uncertainty, even the concern that what she had said was true.
"Well," Swift Shield said, leaning back. He considered the situation a moment longer before continuing on. "At this point you've both got differing stories about the night's events, and I have to say, neither possibility looks good. Unfortunately, we have only limited witnesses. We interviewed some of the residents, and they claim to have heard a female voice yelling indistinctly, then saw a mare matching your description leaving the scene, but nothing to corroborate your story. We'll have to speak to him again about some of the questions your account raises, but... just to be clear, are you accusing him of attacking you?"
Meadow hesitated. The thought of seeing that pony suffer for what he did brought a happy sense of satisfaction to mind, but still, she hesitated. It was all too tempting to give in to personal desires, but what would it gain her? Nothing, and yet it would likely require interacting regularly with the Guard, lots of questioning back and forth, and all sorts of attention that an Infiltrator is better off avoiding.
She let her gaze drift down to the table. "I... I don't know, I wasn't expecting what was going to happen, it just freaked me out so badly, and... and I guess he seemed a little confused, too. I don't know, maybe I was overreacting. At the time I thought he was, but now? I don't know." She let her head sink down, slumping over the table. "I just want this all to be over. I thought it was, even, but then I find out that he says I..."
She trailed off, leaving them in silence for a moment before Vigilance spoke up. "You sure?"
Weakly, she nodded. "Just... I don't know, if you could tell him to stay away from me or something, I'd appreciate it."
They hesitantly nodded, rising to their hooves. As they were about to leave, Swift Shield paused. "Are you going to be okay?"
She lifted her head up, giving a weak, lopsided, and thoroughly unconvincing smile. "Sure. I've been through worse before."
As they left, she sat there, quite happy under the weary, sad exterior. They had bought her story.
The next two days went smoothly enough, if a bit slow. Swift Shield returned, having discussed matters with Cherry Runner; evidently, he had clung to his story but had agreed to drop the matter after they had brought up her own accusations. Swift assured her that she wouldn't have to see him again. "He actually asked me to keep you away from him before I'd even mentioned your own request, so I don't think you'll be seeing him any time soon."
Otherwise, things were fairly normal, apart from Wheatstalk paying much more attention to her. It was almost overbearing, but she wasn't going to complain when she was getting such easy sympathy. Unfortunately, it also meant she had to keep up the "sad and awkward" act for a while, which rather hurt her efforts at gathering food from the evening patrons.
Curiously, Wheatstalk had a lot more busywork for her to do, little things he'd normally do himself, but which kept her occupied a fair portion of the night. On the plus side, that also meant more pay.
In the end, she considered the last couple days a success, if a somewhat trying one. Sure, there'd been some stumbling, but she'd handled herself well. Despite the... disgusting event with Cherry Runner, it had all worked out in the end. Most notably, she had encountered the Guard, possibly the most significant threat to her, and had fooled them perfectly.
But where the Guard failed to bring about disaster, a different department of the government was about to make things much less pleasant.
The night was cool and overcast when she left the pub, and Meadow was happy. With Wheatstalk giving her more work, she had a nice little sum of bits tucked away in her saddlebags, having already saved up more than she had before her trip to the spa. Idly, she made plans to go again. Hopefully, she'd be able to avoid ruining their beautification the very night she had it done.
With a subtle glance over her shoulder to ensure that nopony was watching, she slipped into the familiar alley. It was a little cluttered at the moment, several bags of trash and boxes having been added during the day. Somepony had moved things around, disrupting her little shelter, but it wasn't so bad. The extra material meant more obstruction to hide her from passing ponies, and it wasn't as if it took very long to rebuild.
She pulled out the flattened box that served as a sleeping pad, setting her saddlebags at one end as a makeshift pillow. The cardboard had just the slightest give to it as she lay down, a comforting feeling, just like the wax of the chambers she had slept in back at the hive. Another pair of flattened boxes were pulled over her, leaning against the wall to form a simple shelter. Safely hidden away, she closed her eyes, looking forward to a good, long sleep.
Tap.
Her eyes cracked open at the sound. Had she been asleep? How long had she laid there? And most importantly, what was that sound? More sounds started reaching her ears. Something rustled the trash bags near the front of the alley, soft pattering sounds rising from the street itself, and another "tap" sounded from the box over her, followed by a couple more.
Carefully, silently, she crept forward a few inches, until she could peer out under the end of her shelter, and finally recognized the rapidly-increasing sounds for what they were: rain.
Sighing, she scooted back and closed her eyes again, though her ears remained perked. It was inconvenient, all the extra sound would make it hard to notice somepony sneaking up on her, which made her a little wary. Sure, ponies were unlikely to do that, but it still felt like a risk, however small.
The sound continued to grow, the tapping rapidly turning into a single, long noise, but it made little difference. She had spent most of her life in the hive, and even after a few years of living as a pony, she was still accustomed to sleeping through simple noise.
The water seeping into her shelter, however, was something new.
At first, she tried to simply ignore it. She closed her eyes, not paying attention to the way the damp cardboard of her shelter began to sag or the trickle of water leaking onto her fur. Before long, everything was soaked; water trickled through the gaps in her shelter, or seeped through the material, or flowed in beneath it to soak the mat she lay on. Soon it had thoroughly soaked her fur--dumb, useless fur--and it was cold, so very cold. It was bizarre to think that rain should be so cold when it was still summer out, even in the middle of the night, and yet it was.
Beneath the sodden remains of her shelter, the disguised changeling curled up and shivered, trying to sleep despite the cold and wet.
She was determined to endure.
No amount of acting could have passed herself off as ‘well’ when she entered the pub that morning.
The rain was now just a light drizzle, but Meadow was completely soaked through, her movements slow and stiff, and despite the water dripping from her, her fur was filthy from the dirt of the alley. All she wanted to do was get to the restroom and clean up, with hot water, without anypony noticing her. Had she been thinking clearly, rather than having her thoughts muddled by lack of sleep and the horrible cold that had seeped through her entire body, she would have known that hope was doomed to fail.
In hindsight, simply walking in the front door and expecting not to be noticed was possibly not the best plan she could have come up with.
"What in the world happened to you?" Wheatstalk said with clear alarm, even stepping out from behind the bar to hurry over to her.
Her mind raced as fast as it could, with the result that, after about 5 seconds of thinking in an attempt to formulate the most iron-clad and convincing excuse, she stammered out, "I f-fell in a p-puddle."
"...A puddle?"
Meadow winced, recognizing how weak of an excuse that was. She tried to imagine Ceymi's critique. That was dumb. You're dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
Perhaps the Ceymi-critique could wait until she could think straight. Even past the mind-numbing cold, she recognized how idiotic it had sounded. For a moment, she felt a terrible shame at having attributed such a simple-minded statement to her mentor.
She was abruptly aware that Wheatstalk was beside her, likely still expecting an answer as he guided her over to take a seat at the bar.
Well, time to keep digging. "...It m-might have been the r-river," she said. Well, that should work to explain why I'm so wet. Wait, there is a river around here, right?
"How in Equestria did you manage that?" Wheatstalk asked, a bit surprised, but it seemed to confirm that falling into a river wasn't too outrageous of a possibility. Just stupid.
However, she really didn't want to have to come up with an explanation for that right now, particularly not when she could barely focus enough to sit on the stool. "I was being stupid," she said. "I don't want to talk about it."
It seemed enough to satisfy his curiosity. Wheatstalk shouted back into the kitchen, then returned to place a warm towel over her shoulders. "I'll go set all this out to dry," he said before picking up her saddlebags. By the time he had laid out her scant personal belongings to dry, Flash Fire had finished his request, and he set a bowl of soup and a large cup of hot cocoa before her.
Her eyes widened slightly as she saw the cup. She recognized its contents and quickly reached out to clutch in in both hooves, lifting it to take a long drink. A moment later, the heat hit, and she sputtered, setting the cup down to clutch at her chest as the molten deliciousness worked its way down to her belly. She only barely managed to gasp out, "Hot!"
Wheatstalk winced. "Easy there. It's called 'hot cocoa' for a reason. Take it gently, you've got to warm up slowly."
She nodded weakly and did her best to follow his directions. The soup was nothing special, just some thin vegetable broth with noodles, but by the time she had finished it--as well as a second cup of hot cocoa that she'd managed to coax out of Wheatstalk--there was a pleasant, warm sensation in her belly. It was only a single point of warmth in her frigid body, but it was like a nice, warm beacon of hope to her.
Seeing that she had finished, Wheatstalk spoke up again. "We should get you all cleaned up and warm. I live upstairs. Go take a nice long shower, get yourself warmed up." He pointed to the door leading to the back. "Up the stairs. Bathroom is the first right in the hall."
"Thank you," she said, shakily rising to her hooves. She was no longer shivering uncontrollably, but she still found her progress slow, her limbs stiff. She climbed the stairs, passing through a door to enter a cluttered apartment. She barely even made note of the contents as she moved around the couch, making her way to the hall.
Entering the bathroom, she quickly turned on the shower, giving it just a moment for the water to heat up before stepping into the tub.
Oh, it was so wonderful, the heat coursing over her body, soaking into her. Slowly, she began to thaw, enjoying the blissful warmth. As her mind cleared from the fog the cold had shrouded it in, a few thoughts started to bubble up.
First, showers were almost as nice as baths. Not quite as good for relaxing as a bath, but for a freezing not-quite-pony, it was paradise.
Second, she really needed to start paying attention to the daily weather plan.
And third, she couldn't keep going on this way.
She frowned a bit at the last thought. As determined as she was to be strong, to endure hardships rather than give in to every frilly pony luxury, she simply couldn't continue on as she had. This downpour might have been a large one, but it was still late summer, and it had been only a single night. If it rained like this again tonight, she'd be in an even worse state by the morning. What would happen when it got to fall, or winter? She was tough and enduring, but she might not be able to survive that, and certainly wouldn't be in good shape.
However she looked at it, she needed shelter. Proper shelter, more than a few sodden boxes in an alley. Some place where she could sleep, indoors, safe from the weather.
That meant that she needed money, much more money than she was getting now. Once again, this meant a job.
She tried to push the thoughts back, to simply enjoy the warmth of the shower. Before long, she was warmed up enough to start cleaning, the water turning gray as she worked the dirt out of her fur. The filthy water of the alley had let the dirt seep deep into her coat, requiring a significant amount of scrubbing to work it back out. This would be so much easier in my natural form, she thought, though she wouldn't dare risk exposing herself. It'd be far too easy for Wheatstalk to come to check on her and ruin everything.
Eventually, reluctantly, she had to leave the wonderful warmth of the shower. After going through a couple of towels in a somewhat futile effort to dry herself off, she stepped out of the bathroom, her mind still thinking over the topic of finding a job.
With a clearer mind, she was able to take in the apartment she had numbly stumbled through many minutes earlier. There was a faintly musty, lived-in smell, and the small main room was cluttered with books, pictures, a few small statuettes, and a variety of miscellaneous personal belongings. Her mind momentarily brushed across the thought of how much random, unnecessary stuff ponies seemed to accumulate, but was immediately derailed as she looked over the coffee table in the middle of the room. Amidst all the clutter, a pair of bits lay on the table.
Meadow paused beside the table, reaching down to pick one up, turning it over. A job is just a way of getting bits from ponies, she thought, but there are much more direct methods of accomplishing that.
With a slowly-growing smile, she placed the bit back in its place and trotted out, a new plan forming in her mind.
A light drizzle filled the night sky when Meadow finally headed "home" again. The weather was not going to be quite so bad as the night before, but she had no intention of spending tonight out in the weather. She paused at the end of her alley, performing her usual check before heading in.
Somepony who was watching very closely might have seen the faint flicker of green firelight back in that alley, followed a few moments later by Coal slipping out through the shadows. In the darkness, the black-furred unicorn was nearly invisible, creeping down the poorly lit streets as she made her way back toward her objective.
It was possibly excessive caution. Nopony would even see her, and even if they did, they would never know to link Coal to Meadow Song. Despite that, she was not about to start taking chances, not when a few moments of precaution could eliminate that risk.
Several minutes later, she arrived at her destination, peering out from an alleyway beside Wheatstalk's Pub. The pub, however, was not her objective. Rather, she had her eyes on the music store across the street. It was always a popular place during the day, plenty of ponies going in and out, many bits exchanging hooves. Now, it lay silent and dark, abandoned in the night.
After a quick glance up and down the street, she darted out across the street and into the alley opposite where she started. Another glance showed that the street was still empty, and she cautiously ventured out from her hiding place to approach the store. Looking in the window, she took a long look around, noting the racks, the displays, the counter, and of course, the register. Holding that picture in her mind, she retreated back to the alley.
A dumpster and a few loose boxes would have to serve as cover. Crouching in the darkness, she focused on the memory of the store, and a moment later the flames engulfed her.
The world lurched, something striking her flank. She spun, blinking her eyes to clear them from the flash of her magic. She heard the sliding sounds just before she saw the stack of records toppling off the table that she had run into during her teleport. She lunged in, trying to arrest the cascade with her hooves and magic, but it was too late; the entire display rack toppled over, the sound of the records striking the ground echoing, shockingly loud in the silent store.
When it was done, she was left holding the half-empty case, eyes wide, ears perked and searching for any sound of somepony coming to investigate.
A minute later, she let out a near-silent sigh of relief. Carefully pushing the rack back into place, she stepped around the scattered records and made her way back to the counter.
The register was shut. She paused and closed her eyes. When they opened a moment later, Coal's large, green eyes were replaced with solid blue, and the darkness of the store no longer seemed so deep. A few moments of searching found the button she was looking for, and the drawer slid open. Empty.
She wasn't terribly surprised, even if she was a touch disappointed at her task not being quite so easy as she had hoped. Next she began searching through the cupboards and drawers behind the counter, taking her time to ensure that she made not a single sound in her search.
There was nothing there, beyond some cleaners, bags, and several record-player parts. Reluctantly, she turned to the back door. She didn't know what she would find in the back of the shop, if it'd lead to another living area like in Wheatstalk's pub, or if it'd hold what she was looking for, but she needed to find out.
Creeping the door open, she peeked through the crack to see a small hallway. A door at the end looked to exit into the alley, while another well-used door led further inside, and a staircase led up to the next floor.
Coal made her way to the nearby door, slowly opening it and slipping into what appeared to be an office. The room was nearly pitch-black, but her eyes picked out the details in the dark. A desk loaded with papers dominated the tiny room, while a very expensive-looking record player was set opposite it. What immediately caught Coal's eye, however, was the safe set behind the desk.
She frowned as she stepped up to it, eying it evilly, as if its very existence was an insult to her. Surely it held what she was looking for. She just had to convince it to give over its treasure. Given time, she might be able to blast it open with magic, but she had no doubt that would alert most of the neighborhood, not to mention draining a substantial amount of her dwindling magical reserves. No, this had to be done more subtly.
She looked closely at the dial, to see if there was any wear that might indicate the proper combination. Then she examined around the edges and inside the edges of the bookcase it was set in, to see if somepony had written down the combination anywhere they thought was sneaky and hidden. After that, she started to go through the drawers of the desk, to see if it might be found in one of the many papers there.
Halfway through the second drawer, a thought occurred to her that made her stop and turn around, glaring at the safe. After a moment of contemplation, she lifted her hoof and pressed down on the handle.
A faint clunk sounded from inside the mechanism, and the safe door swung open.
Stupid ponies, she thought, with a roll of her pupil-less eyes, before examining the contents.
A stack of papers and thin books were pushed aside, as well as several small records, until she came to a sizable and fairly heavy metal box, which jingled faintly as she lifted it out. There we go.
As she was about to leave, a glint of gold in the bottom of the safe caught her eye. She reached in, drawing out a finely-made, golden pocket watch. The face was purposefully made to reveal the intricate mesh of golden gears slowly spinning inside it. Compared to even the finest machine she had seen Spark Wheel tinker with, the watch looked incredibly refined and precise in its machinery. The quality of the craft would surely be expensive, and being made of gold must make it even more so.
But what would I do with it? She pondered the question. Sure, it was probably valuable, probably very much so, but it wasn't money. She'd have to sell it to somepony to make it useful to her, and that meant a pony that would know she had once had it. Even if they only knew a disposable disguise, it was a point of contact she would prefer to avoid, even if she had any idea where to find such a pony.
Reluctantly, she set the watch back.
She didn't bother using the fire-portal to leave; the back door into the alley served just as well, and let her conserve her energy. She stopped there in the slowly growing rain, dumping the bits from the metal box into her saddlebags and setting it amidst the trash, and then snuck her way back across the street. It was far too late to use her newfound wealth to get a place to stay, but she was not spending another night out in the rain.
Again finding a good hiding place, she thought back to the layout of the pub, and in particular, the mare's restroom. Focusing for a long moment, she again cast her spell.
As she emerged from the flames, a sudden pain lanced through her skull. Collapsing to the hard tiles of the restroom, she clutched her hooves to the top of her head, teeth grit tight, breath held, every bit of will focused on staying silent despite the sudden, surprising pain.
Slowly the pain receded, from a skull-splitting agony to a dull, powerful throbbing that ran along the top of her head. She hazarded a breath, the sound hissing as she sucked the air in through her teeth, and opened an eye to look up at the underside of the restroom counter. Right. The restroom is about a yard further back than I thought. Noted. She briefly entertained the idea of blasting the counter as revenge for its assault, but despite its cathartic promise, she held back. Instead, she weakly rose to her hooves, making her way to the last and largest stall, all the while reconsidering the wisdom of blindly teleporting into a cluttered room.
Still rubbing at her head, she let her magic wash over herself to strip away the small, black form of Coal and replace it with the lean, brown form of Meadow Song. Sadly, the pounding headache didn't go away with the change in forms.
With a weak sigh, she slid the bolt for the stall door, set down her saddlebags, and curled up to sleep beside the toilet. It was far from ideal, but it would do for the night.
In the morning, it was a simple matter of waiting until Wheatstalk was distracted, and then slipping out of the restroom to pretend as if she had just arrived. He just gave a nod between taking care of customers, barely even making note of her arrival. She'd become something of a common feature of the pub, after all.
After taking a moment to order a small breakfast, she made her way over to a table by one of the front windows, taking a seat and looking out at the small crowd that had gathered across the street.
In the light drizzle, a half-dozen Guard members milled about outside the music store, while a few dozen other ponies gathered around to watch. Movement in the windows showed that more were inside the store.
Meadow watched, carefully hiding her surprise and concern. This was much more of a reaction than she had expected. It was just a few bits. Sure, it made sense that the Guard would investigate, but she hadn't expected them to come in force. She had to remind herself that there was no way for them to link the theft to herself.
Unless they have magic to do that.
She was distracted from such thoughts by Wheatstalk placing a plate of fresh, hot food before her. "Morning, Meadow."
"Morning," she replied automatically, snatching up a quick bite of fried hay. They hadn't had anything like it at the orphanage, and it was surprisingly good for what was basically just heated hay.
She noticed then that Wheatstalk was still standing there. Looking up, she saw him staring out the window, a faint frown on his face. Best to play along. "So what happened over there?"
"Someone broke into Melody's store, robbed the place." He shook his head. "Sad to think that something like that could happen in this neighborhood."
Meadow looked out again. Many of the ponies milling about had similar expressions to Wheatstalk, looking on in disbelief. The members of the Guard looked deadly serious, and even from here she could catch the faint tingle of undirected anger. The only Guard with a more gentle expression was the one speaking to the mare sitting under the awning. She looked as if she had been crying, and was close to doing so again, while the foal clutched in her foreleg looked confused and a touch scared. The emptied metal money box was set on the sidewalk beside them.
Through the gray filter of the overcast skies and slow drizzle, it seemed like such a dismal scene.
After a moment, Meadow forced herself to look away, focusing instead on her food.
Next time, I'm hitting a place I won't have to look at afterward.
Meadow stepped through the door, flipping on the switch to illuminate the apartment.
The light showed a small room, situated in the basement under a furniture store. The room contained a small bed, a table with a pair of chairs, and the tiniest kitchen she had ever seen. The furniture was all old and worn, the sheets smelling vaguely of mildew, and the kitchen held only a half-size fridge and a stove that looked like it would struggle to boil a pan of water. A door led to a small bathroom that was only barely large enough to hold a toilet and a shower stall, not even a full bath, and yet the weak bulb in it struggled to barely light the room. The air was slightly chilly and stale.
It was cramped and dingy, but it was all hers.
It was perfect.
Life with money was notably easier. It was far more than simply having shelter from the rain. She kept herself cleaned and groomed, buying new cosmetics and grooming supplies to aid her in her work. She visited the spa a couple times each week, letting the experts beautify her as best they could while she, somewhat guiltily, enjoyed the luxury of their attention. She even followed some of their suggestions, purchasing a few garments to complete the look, trim little dresses that the tailor said emphasized her beauty.
The downside of money was that it seemed incredibly easy to spend it. Fortunately, it was just as easy to acquire. A fancy home, a museum, an expensive office, none offered any resistance to the mysterious ghost of a thief that the papers speculated wildly upon; a master burglar that got into the most secure areas, with no signs of how they entered or exited, and robbed the places of money, while leaving much more valuable items untouched.
Her favorite, however, was the banks. It had taken her weeks to build up the self-assurance to attempt to rob a bank, but in the end, it had been trivial. Coal portalled into the vault, swiped a small fraction of the money it held--still a substantial sum!--and portaled back out. Less than a minute, and she was set for weeks. Better yet? It seemed they weren't even sure they had been robbed. The bank visits rarely entered into the news, and the times they did, there was much confusion as to how the money had gone missing. All she had to do was not let on that she had such a large amount of money, and nopony would suspect her.
With such matters taken care of, she began to look for new avenues to get the energy she needed to thrive. Talking with a few of the visitors to the pub turned up a new possibility, one that her newfound source of revenue made more available to her: nightclubs.
That had been a new experience. Following the advice of a young couple she had talked with at Wheatstalk's, she found her way one night to a club simply called "Nova," a fairly unassuming building from the outside, apart from the sign. Once she got inside, however, it was completely different. Loud music filled the air, a large crowd of ponies dancing energetically on the huge, open dance floor, or kicking back with friends along the fringes.
At least, it had been a new experience for all of half an hour, when she recognized that apart from the loud music, the dancing, and the slightly younger average age of the crowd, there was little functional difference between this nightclub and the pub. Still, it had many more ponies, much more energetic and excited. The sheer enthusiasm and euphoria of the crowd filled the air with an energy that was very real and tangible to her; a blending of hundreds of ponies' emotions, faint and undirected, and yet delightful to her senses. Better yet, several of the ponies here seemed quite happy to talk with the pretty new mare who had walked in, looking a little lost among the sea of ponies.
The novelty of each club never lasted long, but it was little matter. When one seemed to stagnate, she could visit another, and suddenly be the curious new attraction again. There was no permanence to it, no lasting success, but it fed her. Not as well as back at the orphanage, but well enough.
There was a strange incongruity to thinking of how boring her life was while she was in the process of robbing a twentieth-floor office.
Coal peeked around the corner of the huge mahogany desk at the front of the lobby of Shuckster & Sons Imports. The impression she had gotten from the talk of one of those "Sons" at the club the previous night looked to be quite accurate; the place looked like money. The walls were covered in hardwood paneling, statues flanked the main doors, and the lobby floor was marble, polished to a mirror shine. She no longer was easily shocked to see such a feat, all that stone lifted so high above the ground. She was further up than any of the hive's spires reached, in a giant building of steel and glass beyond anything any of the drones back at the hive could imagine. Over the months of living beneath such huge structures, such things had ceased to be so shocking. Imposing, possibly, but not shocking.
That reaction somewhat mirrored how the rest of her life was going, she thought as she began creeping down the hall toward the main offices. As the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, the novelty of clubs and dancing had worn thin. Oh, plenty of ponies had been friendly, but she soon came to recognize that there were two kinds of ponies that came to places like that: the ones who wanted to spend time there with the friends they already had, who might be friendly enough but unlikely to form lasting interest in a pony they just met there, and the ones who were there on their own, looking for a very temporary kind of friendship. An evening with somepony to hang out with, to spend a good time with, rarely much more. At best, they might begin to grow more feelings over time, feelings that could eventually be coaxed into an actual, lasting friendship. At worst, they reminded her of Cherry Runner. That thought alone was enough to sour her to the experience.
She slipped through the door at the end of the hall, revealing a series of offices, conference rooms, and other spaces of unknown use. No, there's a third kind, she thought as she began to quietly rummage through the first office. The ones like Balance Line.
Balance Line was quite possibly the least interesting stallion in the world. He was also a rarity in the fancy nightclubs that had become her hunting grounds; a lonely, socially inept pony who went to the clubs in the hopes of making friends. His awkwardness was rather pathetic in some ways, but it gave him a kind of desperation that was all too easy to exploit. All she had to do was give a sympathetic ear and feign interest, and he gave her all the friendship she could want. Of all the ponies, he was the only one she had met that had formed a longer-lasting interest.
Despite that, she wasn't sure if it was really worth the effort.
She frowned as she opened the last drawer, finally turning up a few coins. Five bits. What, did somepony forget their lunch money? Grumbling a little, she scooped the bits into her bags and shut the drawer, moving on to the next room.
Balance Line wasn't just boring. He seemed to have this ability to leech the fun and excitement out of the air, like a changeling that could somehow sap your very intellect and will to live. Oh, he didn't lack for passion. He was very passionate about his work. Very passionate. Hours of talking about budgetary constraints, tax formulas, and investment schemes levels of passionate. The kind of passionate that made certain changelings distantly consider thinning the herd of an undesirable member.
He even looked boring. He was a beige-coated earth pony with a plain, medium build, brown eyes and mane, and a cutie mark that was simply a black line. A line. What kind of pony has a line for a cutie mark?
Wait. Why is there a fridge in an office building?
She walked over and opened the seemingly out-of-place fridge, finding more of interest there than she had in the previous office. Shortly after, she left what must have been some sort of office-building dining room, levitating a hay smoothie and an extra-large slice of cold pizza, with a well-wrapped cupcake waiting for her inside one of her bags. Not exactly what I'm looking for, but I shouldn't pass up such a nice opportunity, she thought, taking a bite.
That very same saying could be used for Balance Line, actually. He was painfully boring, utterly uninteresting, and had no idea how to socialize. He had grown a strong sense of affection for Meadow in just a couple days--infatuation, really, she thought--and even two months later, it showed no signs of waning. Worse yet, it meant she had to spend more time with him to maintain that emotional output, easily her strongest source of food at the moment. That meant less time socializing with other ponies and fewer opportunities to find ponies that didn't threaten to kill her brain with blandness. Very much not what she wanted, ideally, yet still something she couldn't just abandon.
At least he was dull enough to show absolutely no initiative. Despite the infatuation he had for Meadow, she was the one that made all the decisions, steering things along, with him blandly following along. As such, she always got to do what she wanted, rather than being stuck with whatever brain-meltingly boring pastimes he might come up with.
Here's to small blessings, she thought, giving a gesture of salute to nopony with her pilfered cup, before drawing a long drink and slipping into the next office.
More and more, it was all starting to seem pointless. Sure, she hadn't accomplished much for an Infiltrator. On the other hoof, she was isolated, alone, and untrained, and yet, had survived comfortably for years. She had sustained herself, even established herself to the point where she could bring in a fairly decent surplus of emotional energy. It should be a decent accomplishment... if it served any purpose.
She gulped down the last of the pizza as she rifled through another desk. Pointless. Surely there had to be some money here in an office building of such wealth. She had rent to pay, and she preferred not to "visit" the banks too often. Her cup made an angry slurping sound as she finished it off, and she simply left it on the desk as she walked out.
At least the next office looked promising, a huge room featuring a long table, decorated with small statuettes, globes, navigation instruments, and model airships, and beyond it, the largest and most pretentiously extravagant desk she could even imagine. Huge windows let the light of the city at night filter in, casting strange shadows through the room. She shook her head a little as she walked in.
She was just starting to work up to a good mental rant about Balance Line and life in general when something caught her attention. She looked to the wall opposite the grand windows, her pace slowly coming to a halt as she realized what she was looking at.
Above a shallow counter and between two grand bookcases, a space at least ten yards long and stretching to the ceiling four yards above the counter, was a map.
She hopped up onto the counter, eyes wide as she looked over it. It took her a moment to orient herself, then she reached out with a hoof to touch the surface. Manehattan. The hoof traced its way a short distance south. Mareville.
The detail was astounding. It was not just some simple map, like in the geography book they had at the orphanage. This was a work of art, intricately detailed as if intended for navigation. Peering closely at the map, she could see every detail, every curve of the hills, the lines of the forests, the winding streams and rivers. Her memory was vague, yet it seemed everything matched so perfectly with what she remembered of her trip here.
Next, her hoof found the line of tracks leading away from Mareville, to the west. They wound around hills, over rivers, and right up to the edge of the Everfree Forest, where they passed through a small town. Hoofington.
Then her eyes worked their way north-west, scanning past the miles of trees and winding rivers, past the expanse of the Everfree Forest, until they were looking over the barren, craggy lands beyond them.
Home.
She stared for several moments, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. It seemed so close. She blinked, then reached out with her magic, snatching up a ruler and compass and making measurements. 330 degrees. She swapped out tools, making another measurement. ...And just over three hundred miles.
She stared. Three hundred miles. If she flew hard, she could probably make that in a day. Better yet, she had an exact bearing to follow, not just the vague direction of "past the Everfree." I'm such a fool, she thought, despite the smile slowly growing on her face. Of course these ponies would have something like this. Why didn't I think of--
"Hey!"
Coal nearly fell off the counter as she spun around, eyes wide in shock, the tools levitated defensively between her and the source of the shout. A middle-aged red pegasus stallion stood just inside the door, wearing a white uniform. A security guard. He quickly pulled out a flashlight and turned it on, nearly blinding her as it shone in her face.
"What're you doing in here?" he shouted angrily, advancing on her.
Alarm and panic tore through her mind. "I-I just wanted to look at the map," she babbled, only belatedly realizing how poor of an excuse that was.
"Get down from there!" he shouted out, obviously not caring for the excuse either.
She thought quickly, immediately latching onto a plan. "O-okay," she said as she started to climb down, but it was simply an act. The words covered the sound of one of the metal busts lifting off the display behind the guard. The motion of her movements kept him distracted, his eyes on her. He didn't even get the warning of her horn lighting up, as it was still alight, holding the measuring tools. He caught the look of concentration upon her face too late, the bust smashing into the back of his head. His light went skittering across the floor, his body dropping in a limp, motionless heap.
Coal remained frozen in place for several long seconds, eyes fixed on the guard, bust lifted up to strike again. Finally, she let out a long sigh, turning into a faint, slightly-giddy chuckle at the end, her body trembling faintly with adrenaline.
Quickly, she used her magic to tear away a large piece of the map, from Hoofington to the badlands beyond the Everfree. She couldn't help but feel a little guilty at defacing such an impressive work, but frankly, she needed it more than they did. Rolling it into a loose bundle, she tucked it into her bag and walked toward the door with a triumphant, smug grin. "And this," she said with a superior tone to the downed guard, "is why you don't get between me and my goals, little pony."
She was just walking past him when the feeling that something was wrong came over her. She hesitated, looking down at the stallion. He twitched every few moments, eyes only half-shut and rolled back into his skull. His breathing seemed to come shallow and slowly, and when she stepped around to get a better look at the wound, she could see the shocking amount of blood leaking from his scalp.
The triumphant grin had been replaced with a frown as she carefully nudged the side of his head, drawing no response or resistance. She had only meant to knock him unconscious, but this... by the looks of him, it was a far more serious injury. It was the kind of serious that could easily turn fatal without care, care he would not be getting any time soon. The office probably didn't open for another six hours or more, leaving him twitching and bleeding the whole time.
She stared down at him. He saw me, she thought. He saw Coal. If he survives, they'll know it was her that robbed all those places, and now attacked a security guard, too. Sure, it shouldn't matter soon, but... I should just let him die. It would be simpler that way. What's one less pony? There are so many of them, right?
Frowning, she sat on the polished marble floor, contemplating the wounded pony.
A flicker of green faintly illuminated the back of an alley below the monumental towers of the city, and a moment later, a black unicorn head peeked out from between a pair of dumpsters. She looked around, cautiously seeking out any observers, but all that greeted her was the distant sounds of the city at night and the chilly breeze. Slowly, she took a step out, then another. Still no sign of ponies. She was alone.
She let out a slow sigh, and murmured, "Okay then."
Turning, she stepped back into the shadow of the dumpsters, clenched her teeth around the stricken guard's collar, and began to drag him down the alley.
Guh, this guy must weigh half a ton, she grumbled, hooves slipping on the damp asphalt. He was certainly too heavy to levitate him along. At least, not easily. It would be far more drain than it was worth when she could just drag him, and she was likely to need all the energy she could hold, before long.
She was breathing heavily by the time they were halfway down the alley, and she stopped to take a momentary break, jaw feeling slightly sore. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood," she muttered darkly, and gripped his collar again. It probably wasn't a good idea to be dragging him along, considering his injuries, but it was far better for him than being left hidden in an alley.
Finally she pulled him onto the sidewalk at the end of the alley, releasing him to lean, panting, against the wall. And I'm getting out of shape again. That was quick.
Once she felt a little more stable, she looked down at the unconscious guard. He didn't look any better here, and the cold probably wouldn't help any. At least winter had been cleared out a week ago, in an amazingly well-coordinated effort involving hundreds of pegasi, but the weather was still rather chilly and damp. Oh well, nothing I can do about that. She reached out with her magic to pull out his flashlight, flip it on, and set it beside him. In the dark of night, it stood out like a beacon.
One final step.
She trotted down the street, eyes fixed on a 24-hour grocery halfway down the block. Slowly, it drew closer, her heartbeat pounding harder and harder. She finally came to a halt just outside the door, staring at it. This is it. If I go in there, then it's settled. No going back...
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.
The young stallion behind the counter, hardly past his colthood, looked up from his magazine to see a distraught black unicorn standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with fear. "Help!" She shouted out, voice shaking in apparent desperation. "Somepony's been hurt really bad, a-and he isn't getting up!"
He stared in shock for only a moment before leaping to his hooves and hurrying to the door. From here, the flashlight illuminated a section of wall, leaving a clear silhouette of a crumpled body on the sidewalk. The stallion hesitated only a moment before he began to trot toward the fallen figure. Soon the trot turned to a canter, then an outright gallop.
He didn't notice when the black unicorn following him veered away, dashing off into the night.
Half an hour later, Meadow walked into the Pulse nightclub. She looked around, all the ponies dancing about so happily, soaking in the pounding music and the happiness that filled the air. Pausing a moment, she slipped a couple bits out of one bag and into the other, setting it aside for train fare. The rest, a couple hundred bits, was all for tonight.
Time for one big, final party.
Meadow pulled the strap of her saddlebags tight. That's everything, she thought, eyes scanning over the apartment one last time. The advantage of having few possessions was that it took hardly any time to pack. She hadn't grabbed any of the shampoos or mane-grooming supplies, but those were hardly going to be useful. All but one of the few dresses she had gotten were still hung up. The last, a fairly simple affair of silvery-gray cloth, was tucked in one of her bags. She didn't need anything else. She didn't even need what she had packed, but for some reason, she wanted to hold onto some small piece of her time here.
Stepping out, she turned off the light, and shut the door for the last time.
As she walked down the street, she thought, making sure she wasn't forgetting anything important. Not that there was much to forget. Such was the blessings of a simple life. Few possessions, no real job, and nopony who really cared for her to say goodbye to. Well, there was Balance Line, but she really didn't want to see him again.
She paused when she reached the corner, looking down the street at Wheatstalk's Pub. She had gone there less and less frequently as the months had gone by, but Wheatstalk had always been so glad to see her. The pub was a much more relaxed environment than the nightclubs, she supposed. Much better food, too.
Standing there, silent, she considered going in one last time. She smiled a little, but shook her head, turning to leave. No point in going in there if I'm leaving anyway...
The train ride was quick, with Meadow spending the whole trip leaned over, looking out the window as the terrain passed by. It still felt so wrong to have the world move beneath her, but it was no longer such a shock. Ponies were weird, and she'd gotten used to dealing with weirdness. Now she simply sat, distracted from the train's movements as she gazed out, lost in thought.
Before long, she was stepping off the train again at the Hoofington station. Strapping on her saddlebags, she started to walk, making her way out of town.
Half an hour later, Meadow reached the top of a small, tree-shrouded hill just outside town. It held such a grand view; to her right, the town of Hoofington slowly rolled through the hills and scattered trees, while before her, a wild sea of green blanketed the land, reaching out to the horizon.
She smiled, eyes looking out over the outskirts of the Everfree, and let her magic pass over her. The flames flickered over her form, stripping away Meadow Song, and leaving Nictis standing in her place--a grown changeling, standing proud.
He drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a slow, happy sigh. There was something liberating about standing there, openly, in his natural form. No deceptions to keep track of, no fear of discovery. It was just him, looking to a future that, for once, shone with hope.
The flap of his saddlebag opened, and he drew out the old, tiny compass from where it had sat beside the section of map, the little metal object turning on its cord. He placed it in his hoof, holding it delicately, like a treasure. The simple needle wavered back and forth, while he turned the compass to line up the simple compass rose in the background.
"Three hundred thirty..."
His eyes found the mark, then turned upward, as if tracing a line to the horizon.
Home.
Carefully, he slipped the cord over his head, letting the compass rest against his chest. Spreading his wings, he swung them slowly through the motions, stretching the muscles out after such a long period of being unused. The motions accelerated with a soft buzz, his weight lifting off his hooves. He rose up, and for the first time in almost five years, he flew, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Stats
Page generated in 0.037 seconds
Total duration
987 users online
1,828,469 hits today, 1,960,719 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
And with this update, Without a Hive is now longer than Fragments! We're somewhere around the halfway point now, more or less.
To say that I wasn't expecting this chapter to end up so large is a bit of an understatement. When I was originally planning out the plot of the story, I had expected the entire Manehattan "arc" to be a single chapter, and even then, I wasn't sure if it'd have enough of interest. I had seriously considered cutting it as wasted space. Sure, I had a few ideas for stuff that would happen there, but it didn't seem very interesting, to me. Then I started writing, and well... it just kind of took off. I had a bit of a delay thanks to various events (Mostly my own inability to get a good night's sleep), but once I did get started, woo. What I had originally expected to be a bit of a chore to get through instead just poured out. Most of the original ideas I had for the chapter got scrapped, instead preserving some of the themes. Every time I came up to a situation I wasn't quite sure of, an idea popped into mind that handled it better than anything I had considered before. And look, character development! (GASP
)
Both the Manehattan chapters are markedly different from what I had originally expected to write, holding only a few plot-crucial elements intact from my original plan, and I think it worked far better this way. Once I made the step to drop the (Somewhat mediocre) planned elements, everything just flowed so much better. Every time I reached a step, it not only presented a new idea that worked better than what I had planned before, it also gave good ideas for what came next. Simply put, it made writing this chapter so much fun!
So what had originally been planned as a single, potentially uninteresting chapter instead became two... and more like two and a half. I almost split this one into two chapters, but there didn't seem to be a good place to split it without breaking the flow.
Actually, that's about how the transition from "plan" to "published" has gone. I thought I had been generous with my estimates on size, but each part of the story has ended up notably longer than I had expected. The first section, running from the beginning of the story to Nictis's arrival in Hoofington? I had originally expected that all to fit in one chapter. I'd expected about one chapter from there to the early events in the orphanage, and another for the rest of the events there; instead, it took a full chapter just to get there, and the orphanage itself became three. So evidently, while I'm good at laying out a plot beforehand (Beforehoof?), I'm terrible at estimating the word-count that plot will take.
When I first came up with the character of Balance Line, I had planned on showing some scenes with him; them meeting, some demonstration of how tedious time spent in his proximity could be, etc. The whole "show don't tell" bit. There was just one problem with that: he is so boring that I literally could not write a scene with him that was in any way interesting. Yes, it showed what happened, but what happened was so boring. Snarky-ling can only do so much to liven up a scene. In the end, the problem of how to address that is what lead to the inspiration for the entire office scene, so I think it worked out rather better this way! I hope...
So he is going back to the hive...
Why do I feel as he will be surprised once he gets there.... Maybe he is the only one left.... Or something
YELLOW
My heart jolted at this... then nothing happened... -maybe... You
I had a genuine sigh of happiness that Nictis is finally heading heading back home. It's been such a long time coming, and it just feels so... aaaww!
That was pretty bad how that guard was bleeding and twitching! Glad Nictis decided to save his life! Maybe he's not all bad =P
1999335
...Now I feel bad for what I'm writing in the next chapter.
1999639
He was just, erm... in a really good mood, and decided to keep the guard alive because, well... oh, right, because otherwise, how would he learn his lesson about not getting between Nictis and his goals! Yeah, that's it. No other reason. Nope...
(Seriously need an appleliar emoticon...)
1999087
Eeehehehe
I hadn't planned it like that, but I'll totally take credit for it!
1998815
Oh, probably because things just can't go right for poor little Nictis.
I liked the chapter. I'm surprised Nictis still hasn't caught grasp of the courting rituals ponies have and the idea of a relationship after all that time, but I guess he's just sticking to the lay low tactic and just never got that far after the first time.
2000767
Ponies are weird.
And yeah, he really wants to avoid another experience like Cherry Runner. Ponies are weird enough when they aren't doing bizarre and unnatural things like that!
Still, he's learning, if a bit slowly. His exposure to pony culture has been a little limited. His exposure to pony courting rituals has been even more so, particularly with his choice in hunting grounds! Still, he's learning, and doing a little better, if you can count Balance Line as "better." He's doing better than some people I know, even...
"What kind of pony has a line for a cutie mark?"
I know of one.
2001118
Well, um... at least she's not beige?
2001127
As for the hive, I'm expecting either a completely bewildered but welcome back into the place or everything being entirely different from how he left it and perhaps an existential crisis on the side, can't wait.
Hehe I'm sorry I just couldn't resist. As for an actual comment, I always love seeing this update.
And I really thought she was going leave to that security guard to bleed out, I guess I should have more faith.
This was a fun chapter to read!
And I really enjoyed Nictis' clumsiness.
Can't wait to find out what will happen to Nictis when he finds his home, and whether he is welcomed back or not.
Considering this tale is called "Without a Hive", I'm guessing Nictus is going to find an empty/destroyed hive when he gets home.
Also:
"A door lead to a small bathroom..."
Should be led.
2001178
Hey, no problem, it made me laugh
2001470
Thanks. Fixed!
2001299 (And everyone else wondering about the hive)
I have to admit, I feel a little bad. I don't want to give away spoilers, but now I'm really feeling like I might be misleading people with this. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter out pretty quickly, and hopefully it won't be a disappointment...
And then Nictis is sent to canterlot for the wedding. He (?) dies. The End
Oh, just realized that you are probably going to send him (?) to Canterlot for a large moral dilemma. Please avoid it. Don't make it his (?) fault either.
Too many. Far too many
2002298
Don't worry, that's not even close to what's happening. I mean, I could, although it'd require junking a huge amount of what I have planned, and yeah, there are plenty of people who have done it before. The best I'll say at the moment is that nobody has guessed where the story is going with the next chapter. I almost feel bad, like I'm misleading people... but I think I've got something much better planned than that for later on.
...Or worse. You know, sad-tag and all.
(Actually, very slight teasing spoiler: Nictis probably will end up in Canterlot at some point. But it's not what you think.
)
...
(It's probably not what you're thinking now, either.)
With all the postulating over the hive, I'm wondering if Nics' will even make it to the Badlands. There's still the entire expanse of the Everfree forest to cover and...
I have a feeling that he'll either be forgotten, he won't be accepted (for some reason), or the changelings will not be there.
I just have a feeling that he will feel worse by going there.
This might not end well...
Still MOAR! 
2002382 Yay. He won't be in the main invasion. Hopefully there won't be an invasion, this could be quite some time before MLP... Or I could be forgetting some important mention that says it is during. Did you ever mention Luna?
Oh right. NMM Plan. What is your thoughts on the MLP timeline? (Not Season 3. I don't think of it as canon)
2003968
I haven't explicitly said when this story is relative to the events in the show, but between a few pieces in this one, and a few in Fragments, there's some hints to suggest vaguely when this takes place. I can't give away too many spoilers, after all.
But don't worry, all will become clear in time. The time of this story will be set definitively in... oh, 4 or 5 chapters, thereabouts.
2006112 Can I at least ask how many Nightmare Nights Meadow went through?
2007995
Oh, sure. There were the four years at the orphanage. There would have been a fifth during her time in Manehattan, though it's not explicitly mentioned in the story; I imagine Nightmare Night taking place in the same place in the year as Halloween, so going from late summer to early spring would have had another. So, five so far. It's definitely Nictis's favorite holiday.
If they do another episode showing Nightmare Night, we really need a changeling nod in it somewhere. It's just too perfect. Either somepony going as a changeling, or someling going as a pony.
2008024 Soooo... The shows timeline is wrong in here then. Good to know, less predictable.
2008078
Hmm? How so? I don't think there's anything here that contradicts the show's timeline...
2008289 4 or five Nightmare Nights and no invasion yet, the common assumption is roughly two years after the NMM incident (In the forest, not on the night)
2008624
After Nightmare Moon's return, sure, but remember the references to her silhouette on the moon. That hasn't happened yet.
Considering the context of Pipsqueak's "first Nightmare Night ever" and Zecora's explanation, it sounds like the holiday has existed for quite a while. The one we saw in Luna Eclipsed, despite being about a year (Probably) from Nightmare Moon's return, is clearly not the first.
2008666 Ah, I think I may be mixing up a specific oneshot. With three nymphs going as themselves on Nightmare Night.
oopsy
2008746
Ah, okay! I think I've read that one, but now I can't remember the name of it.
Yeeeah... they got these frilly luxuries for a reason, you know
You'd think she'd have learned about the sanctity of bathing privacy in those 4 years in the orphanage
This will not end well. Is she trying to get another date with Swift Shield?
Welp. That went better than expected. No second date with the Guard Pones.
No corrections this time! Either I'm slipping, or you did good in this one
It's kind of sad when you can't even keep the attention of a psychic vampire ...
So Nictis is following the compass to get to his hive...
Didn't Misty Dawn say that thing was broken?
3633419 Exactly what I was thinking.
A clean getaway ... interesting.
And in retrospect it seems a bit odd that in all the time before he never thought about asking ponies about information pertinent to traveling, which would have led him straight to the library and maps. But I only thought of it after the fact, so that's pretty good.
I got a bit confused at the end when Meadow transformed into Nictis and everything went masculine, then I remembered that he is a he not a she... Ah well, at least I figured it out.
Is he really going to use the compass that 'not always worked', as it was stated in one of the first few chapters, as a primary navigation tool? Or is this some other compass?
Just thought I'd let you know, there are a few sentences in chapters 7 & 8 that use the word 'people' instead of 'ponies'. One of them I caught just by reading, but two others surfaced when I used the 'find in page' function of my browser. The sentence I caught reading is from Chapter 8:
BTW, great job on the story. I love the different perspectives you give, looking at Pony culture from the viewpoint of an outsider. It was fun reading about Nictus as a young changeling, and is fun reading about her viewpoint of deceit, as I haven't encountered other stories that go into such depth on those subjects. Great job.
Also, having read Fragments, I find it humorous that while Nictus finds Pony bodies disgusting, Sky finds Changeling bodies to be creepy and unnatural.
If they met, I bet they would have some interesting conversations...
The changelings back home will be really impressed by this one.
something about the theft scenes made me think of a "Catwoman" comic book where she stole a large jewel...and gave it back-several times! she was stealing it for fun, not profit.
Rereading for enjoyment.
Wheatstalk
Could use more of a break here.
pegasi,
8234589
Aww, crap. Yeah, now we're seeing a consequence of the recent site changes. As written, there's a break there, because unlike my latest story, I wrote this more book-style (So paragraphs defined by indentation rather than empty lines). The recent site changes made it so that formatting like that is entirely client-side. Great for personal preference and all that, sure. Unfortunately, when it re-formats a story to display paragraphs separated by empty lines (Which appears to be the default, even), it doesn't do any special formatting for what used to be a scene break, making it look like just another paragraph break. Which means I need to go back through all my earlier stories to account for it throwing out my current formatting.
...oh no.
That's the broken compass, isn't it?
Remove 'a'
Replace 'any' with 'and'
Tune in next week for more thrilling adventures of Nictis Coal: Crime Changeling, here on your favorite radio station!
Man. I've complained about other stories that belabor and trudge and drag everything on. But you're doing such a great job at building new scenarios, getting me invested in them, and then just leaving them behind in short order. D: I want more!
Well, I am surprised it took this lobg for her to turn to crime.
Oh no, please don't turn him/her into a Thief
Our little protagonist is seriously commiting a serial crimes
Ah reading without comments would be a decidedly different experience I guess. I'm noting a lot of people recalling the compass being broken, a detail that I did not recall in the slightest.
It's surprisingly easy to forget that Meadow is a changeling even with the constant reminders, and it always takes me by surprise when Nictis decides to move on from a situation. The Orphanage was a nearly standalone story, and it left me quite attached to some of its characters. With what looks like about two thirds of this book left, (I'm reading the hardback I got at bc2019 but popping in here for the comments) I have hope that we might see some of them again yet.
Something which I can't recall being directly addressed but which seems like it must have happened if she spent 5 years in the city is whether Meadow has been updating her size to be consistent with a pony aging out of childhood, which she was ostensibly in during the orphanage arc, and she seemed to be regarded as being particularly young in the early pub segments. Presumably with all this nightclubbing she must have.
11042262
Hmm. I thought I'd said something about her occasionally updating her appearance, but I can't seem to find it now. Perhaps it was something I assumed was conveyed because I knew what was going on, but didn't actually write. But yes, she's updating her size and appearance, especially as she molts and grows.
No spoilers for what happens later in the story, but I hope you'll be pleased.