Chapter 1 - The Desert

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.

Chapter 2 - The Town and Concern

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Chapter Two – The Town and Concern

This continual feed, almost like a drip of sustenance from the colt's feelings was a odd, uncomfortable sensation for the soldier. She'd done a little when assisting infiltrator's and she needed to make sure she was maintaining her energy levels for keeping her disguises up, but she was otherwise just plain not used to this. She was so much more used to having a fuller meal of the nectar that would be provided to her. It was more savory and stuck to her figurative ribs more, which in itself was more comforting because it meant she would be able to function without a constant need to feed herself, without needing to be stuck to one creature endlessly. Cameo had been... tolerable, but the soldier did not like this dependency. Not this sort of dependency at least. She would gladly lean on the hive who provided for her. She at least knew the hive was on her side as well. This colt though, could easily turn on her if her disguise were down. The soldier knew that infiltration was an important, vital role to begin with, but she found herself feeling an all the more growing respect for those would step out into the danger of being caught, of needing to keep track of social conventions, to better fit in and help bring back food. The soldier looked up at the sky, which was started to become darker. The sun was still over the horizon, but it was starting to get close.

“This is taking longer than anticipated,” she said with mild irritation.

“Sorry, heh, I'm pretty sure we're getting close though. I recognize those mountains over there!” Cameo offered sheepishly.

Recognized landmarks. The soldier supposed that was good. She had started to pick up faint traces of pony's as well, though the wind might be carrying them a long way. The two had been working their way around rocky terrain, the soldier again wishing that she had functioning wings so she could just buzz over them with no effort. Then again, she risked being seen, so...

The soldier sighed. She hated needing to weigh all these decisions, finding herself second guessing just about every course of action she took. Naturally she needed decisions made in her own time in the hive as well, but they felt easy to fulfill instinctively. This was something else entirely. If this was something that coordinators and the Queen needed to do, it made the soldier all the more glad she did not need to engage in such things. Then again, perhaps coordinators, all the decision makers who naturally fell into their roles didn't need to deal with these incessant needs to doubt their actions, and that was why they fit their role the best. It seemed so much more likely to the soldier – after all, the Queen certainly never appeared to be in doubt. But then again, even she had failed.

The soldier's was surprised at herself for thinking such thoughts and immediately cut them off before they started to take control of more. She didn't want to think about the Queen failing. Didn't want to admit the Queen could fail. Didn't want to be caught questioning the Queen's fallibility. The soldier didn't want to risk becoming an irregular. Was this how irregulars happened? Just too much time away from the hive? The soldier supposed it made sense, it would be perfectly natural to go mad from losing one's place in the hive, for not being within one's place.

“There it is!” Cameo's voice suddenly shouted, bring the soldier out of her stupor. There, in the distance indeed, was a town, no doubt Apploosa, “See, I told ya we were getting close! I'm comin' cousin!”

And just like that, the colt was off like a bolt. The soldier, seeing her life support dash off, leapt into action as well, chasing after him. The last thing she needed was to get this far only to give out. It seemed circumstances were working against her though, and the soldier found herself making an ill-timed step over a rock and crashing into the dirt. Great, more dust. After the last few days, the soldier was having a difficult time picking herself up, and was frustrated when she looked up only to see Cameo disappearing into town.

The soldier needed food. She needed food so badly. She could probably survive on what little she'd gotten from the colt for a short amount of time, but that was no guarantee.

Don't do anything stupid, she reminded herself, Haste risks giving you away and making the situation worse. Do not allow the hunger to decrease your performance.

It felt like something she might have been chided about by an infiltrator or coordinator in other circumstances, so it felt right here. All the same it was hard to ignore the increasing knot that was developing in her again. As she went on towards the town, trying to maintain as quick a pace as possible while being efficient with what little energy she had left, she tried to break down what could be done. Find a pony, maybe an isolated one, or else find one then isolate it. Either way, the soldier had no way of knowing what would be the best course of action precisely until she was there – she could attempt to plan ahead all she wanted, but in the end, a lot of what she was basing her thoughts on was theory and guessing in an area of expertise she was not good at. As she stumbled into town, she looked around at the various ponies who were giving her odd looks. Damn. She did not need eyes on her. Eyes were the last things she needed on her. Break line of sight, she needed to get out of the view of public attention! She started heading towards one of the alleys in-between the buildings making up this town when a pony, some yellowish looking one come out the entrance of one of the buildings that the soldier was going by. Noticing her stumbling into the alley, he trotted over to her.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you alright?” he asked, coming a little closer.

The soldier looked back at him, seeing that other ponies were still watching. Why couldn't they look away? This would have been a perfect chance to be able to find, just have this one follow her and then finally get a meal of some kind. No... just play it safe. The safest options had helped her survive so far, if only just barely.

“I am fine,” she said with a strained stoicism, trying to move on out of sight. Maybe there was another pony around here who was alone she could take.

“You sure? You look like you got taken lassoed and drug through a rodeo,” he commented, coming closer.

The soldier turned and looked at the yellow pony. The concern coming off of him was nice, but hardly filling – it seemed to only whet her appetite if nothing else. Oh if only she could drag him back out of sight, away from prying eyes... Her own eyes looked at him hungrily. So tempting. So close. Would it really hurt to take the risk?

“There he is – Braeburn!” a voice called out to the yellow pony.

The pony, Braeburn apparently, turned about and tipped up the wide-brimmed hat he was wearing.

“Oh hey there Kicker, what is it?” he asked.

“Cameo just got into town, you didn't hear? He rushed straight for your house,” the other pony said excitedly.

“He managed to outwit those varmints? Well thank Celestia! I'm coming --” Braeburn said, rearing up for a moment in his excitement, before he calmed down, looking back at the soldier, “Um, you sure you don't need any help miss?”

“I am fine,” the soldier insisted.

Do not tempt me, she thought to herself.

“Well, iffen you insist miss,” Braeburn nodded, though soldier noticed his concern was not dissuaded. With a final glance back at her, Braeburn then at least took off full tilt towards what must be his abode. The soldier, however, continued to struggle, going to the back of the buildings and trying to make her way around without being stared at. It was getting difficult to walk though. Her hunger was building and it was taking a fair amount of will power to stop herself from dropping her disguise and just going after some pony. She couldn't risk it though, she kept telling herself that, trying to convince herself it was the sort of order a coordinator would be telling her. Don't do it. Stay on task. You will make it so long as you just follow orders.

Eventually, the soldier found herself walking up by a building where a strange, cloudy sense of good spirits was. Could she maybe survive here? Walking ahead, to the entrance, she stumbled through a couple doors to see a bunch of ponies at various tables, drinking, talking, and generally being happy amongst each other. Some had a clearer sense of a good time, most not so much though. It seemed to make the feelings less nutritious, and not being the object of the good times didn't help as much, but being in such a large haze seemed to equal things out a bit. At the least, the soldier was no longer feeling as desperate. She could think a little more clearly without needing to worry about her survival. She noticed a few ponies staring her way, making the soldier worry that she was sticking out too much, and so instead decided to up and sit at a long table where several stools were, with in turn several ponies. Just sit among them maybe. As she sat though, the soldier was concerned to eventually see a pony behind the long table approach her.

“Well howdy there stranger, need a drink?” he asked.

The soldier blinked a few times as she processed this before nodding. Just go with the flow.

“Yes. I need a drink.”

The pony behind the table, a unicorn it turned out, levitated up a glass onto the table before pulling up a bottle and pouring out some fluid into the glass. It wasn't the water or juice that the soldier was expecting though. The fluid was a yellowish brown, a sort of amber color. When she leaned forward, putting her nose over the glass, her nose wrinkled at the familiar smell that came up from it.

“Whiskey,” she stated simply, recalling the word spoken of by those ponies hiding in the cave.

“Yep. What, wanted something else?” the unicorn behind the table asked.

The soldier looked up at the pony, trying to read his expression for a moment. He had a curious look on his face, and the nature of the curiosity... It didn't seem like wholly suspicious thoughts, but it was giving the soldier an impression she was doing things out of the ordinary. She elected to shake her head – no point in dragging out this interaction any further.

“This is fine,” she insisted.

The unicorn shrugged and continued on down the table towards other ponies. The soldier meanwhile, found herself staring at the drink, not very excited about the prospect of taking a drink from it. She recalled the burning sensation the last time she tried the stuff, and did not look forward to trying it again. Still, as she looked down the long table at the ponies who were enjoying their beverage of choice, she realized that she would need to imbibe this fluid sooner or later to fit in among them without arousing suspicion. She looked back down at the glass. It seemed impossible to think any living creature would find this palatable. Well, perhaps one of the more heat or chemically resistant beings that existed in the world, but ponies? As capable of being tough as they were it was still genuinely surprisingly to think that they would drink it, never mind keeping whole barrels and bottles full of the stuff. Perhaps it was a way of helping to discern those who were not a part of the herd? After all, the soldier couldn't imagine most willing to try that taste unless they knew they had to. And yet, with her sampling of the local emotions, the soldier knew a good time was being experienced by those around her. Hesitantly, the soldier took the the glass between her hooves, lifting it up ever so slightly, and taking a small sip. Just as before, the substance burned her tongue and her throat, though thankfully the burning sensation diffused over time as it slipped down her throat. She repressed the urge to grimace and gag on the stuff, as such an act would have been a clear giveaway. If infiltrators needed to consume this sort of thing often, then they had a lot more bravery than the soldier thought.

The high pitched whine of the flapping doors at the entrance cause the soldier to glance back at whomever just came in, seeing another pony come trotting in and up to the bar, sitting a couple stools away from the soldier, just next to some of the other ponies sitting there.

“What took ya so long?” asked the older, gray, bearded unicorn furthest away from the soldier, and by extension, the pony who just came in. The pony being questioned, an orange pegasus, had a little chuckle.

“Well good evening to you too, Bones,” the pony smirked, “I had a little extra restocking to do in the shop. I'm glad I did though, because I heard the good news just as I was getting out.”

“What, did you finally convince Spice to give you a chance?” the middle pony in the trio, a brown earth pony, asked.

“Oh hush, you know I gave up on that when her an' Chalk got hitched up,” the pegasus said, pushing at the earth pony, though not so much as to push him out of his stool, “I mean the news about Braeburn's cousin,”

The earth pony gave the pegasus a cock-eyed look. soldier could feel the unsettled emotions from the earth pony.

“Knick Knack, you sure you heard good news?” the earth pony questioned.

“Yes, my dear Paddywhack, I am sure,” the pegasus, Knick Knack it seemed, responded, “He just came into town not too long ago!”

“Yer... yer kidding, right?” Paddywhack asked.

“No joke! He came running in just as I was finished with the stocking, had been talking to Braeburn just before then, then Tumble comes along talking about seeing him going straight for Braeburn's house,” Knick Knack smiled.

“Well that seems good,” Bones commented, “How do you reckon he got away though? I heard those varmints go 'im tied up something fierce on their way out.”

“Well I don't know, maybe he tricked 'em somehow? I dunno, you've dealt with foals too Bones, you know how much trouble they can get in if you don't keep an eye on 'em,” Knick Knack offered.

Bones and a short, low laugh. soldier detected a slight sense of... happiness? Fondness?

“Yeah, them little 'uns can get themselves in a mess of trouble,” Bones agreed before taking a sip from his own glass.

“Still seems weird though, don't it?” Paddywhack wondered, “I was there this morning when they came riding in, and they actually seemed to have a good head on their shoulders, at least as much of a good head as a bunch of outlaws can get. And they have gotten away with a bunch lately...”

“Even the brightest can have their worst moments,” Bones commented, “And quite frankly I'd say it's about time those... ponies, if you'd even call 'em that... had a change in their luck.”

There was a nod of agreement from Knick Knack, eventually followed by Paddywhack, who at least seemed to agree with some of the sentiment, even if he still had feelings of things not being resolved.

“Speaking of this morning though, how's everybody that needed a patching up?” Knick Knack asked, looking down at Bones before taking a sip from a glass which the soldier just realized had been poured for him.

“Well, everyone's doing alright for the most part. For the most part it was just bumps, bruises and a few light scratches,” Bones offered before a taking a finishing swig from his glass. He then nudged it forward, briefly addressing the pony behind the table “I'll have another. Anyway, most are good, but poor Trigger is gonna need to spend a few days off his hooves while his leg heals, and Linkin' is gonna have to have to not stress himself until the stitches set. Worried about him though, you know how he can be.”

There was a ponderous hum from Paddywhack.

“Yeah, poor stallion is gonna want to get right back to work too with the repairs we'll need to make to the clock tower an' the surrounding buildings. I'll make sure he doesn't push himself though,” the earth pony decided.

“Good. He's got a good heart but the stallion is gonna ruin himself and my own work if he just pushes himself until he drops,” Bones nodded before taking a sip from a freshly poured glass.

The soldier looked away from the trio back down to her own glass as they continued to converse among themselves. There was still a fair amount of whiskey still in her glass after her sip. She'd barely had any here this unicorn was going for another serving. This couldn't possibly be enjoyable. Ponies were insane. The soldier reluctantly swallowed another sip of the substance, again subjecting herself to the burn. Fortunately though, she wasn't feeling it as hard as last time. Maybe she was getting used to it. It was just a shame it wasn't as substantive her as it seemed to be for these ponies. Unfortunately, her physiology only allowed for it to be possible for her to consume love, or the nectar her kind produced from love. She could consume pony food, but it gave no sustenance – it simply passed through her system without any real contribution. It at least allowed for changelings to camouflage by participating in meals with ponies, but it made this situation inconvenient. In any other moment, the soldier would have been proud of her species—being able to consume love and not need food meant cutting out so many necessities, but here? It would make her impromptu infiltration so much easier if she could just eat some pony food. At least while she was among this large gathering of ponies she could siphon off what was in the atmosphere, but still, if only there was something more she could get. At least there was something about the happiness in this place that was pleasant. The soldier wasn't entirely sure why, maybe it had something to do with the foggy feeling of the emotions in here, but somehow she found her stomach's threatening pains numbing. She found herself worrying just a little less. All of a sudden though, the soldier found herself realizing that somepony was trying to talk to her.

“Miss? Miss? You alright there?”

Knick Knack had leaned over her way and tried waving a hoof within the general vicinity of her vision.

“I reckon she's seen better days,” Bones offered.

The soldier looked up at Knick Knack, then back and forth between him and Bones. Once again, there was that concern. Getting attention upon herself.

“I am fine,” she said, looking back towards her glass.

“How much has she had to drink, Clamp?” Knick Knack asked of the unicorn behind the table.

“That's her first one. Barely touched it far as I can see,” Clamp shrugged.

“So then...” Knick Knack tried to think.

“Sure as Tartarus ain't drunk. Breath certainly didn't smell it at least. Ask her yourself if you want her life story.”

The soldier took another sip from the glass, trying to avoid engaging in conversation. A quick glance to the side confirmed she was still a subject of attention.

“Um, pardon me for asking miss, but what happened to ya? You look like you got hit by a train,” Knick asked.

“Yes, I got hit by a train,” she commented dryly.

“Holy horse apples, really?!”

“She's obviously joking Knick Knack,” Paddywhack said with a roll of his eyes.

A joke. A falsehood for comedy. Maybe a semblence of the truth would be better.

“Been walking for a while in the desert,” the soldier tried to offer.

“How long?”

The soldier glanced at Knick Knack again specifically. Again, just concern, not an interrogation. Didn't make her feel any more comfortable though.

“Three days.”

That statement actually got a serious look from Bones, who got out of his bar stool and trotted over, looking over the soldier more closely.

“Three days? No wonder you ain't lookin' so well, Miss uh...” Bones looked across her before looking expectantly.

The soldier stared back, uncertain of what the gray unicorn was doing with this line of conversation. Another moment where she was not knowing what was supposed to happen, how irritating, frustrating, anxiety inspiring...

“Your name?” he pressed.

Oh. That's what he wanted to know.

“Dusty. I am Dusty,” the soldier stated.

Bones raised an eye at that, a slight smirk in the corner of mouth.

“Well, that you certainly are.”

As the unicorn approached closer and held a hoof to one of her wings, the soldier tensed up and leaned away.

“What are you doing?” she asked, becoming especially nervous.

“Just wanting to take a look at your wings, they seem off.”

Most likely because they are not working, the soldier thought to herself, before leaning away at another approach.

“Easy there miss, I got no ill intentions, I'm a doctor,” Bones said as he held up a hoof in an attempt to calm her.

Doctor... Healer. She recalled that from somewhere in her memories of cooperating with infiltrators. What was she supposed to do? Let him examine her? The soldier wasn't sure how well the disguise would hold up under scrutiny, but not allowing him could be seen as suspicious. Already, she could feel the questioning sensations intensifying and coming off of Knick Knack and Paddywhack. The concern was still present, but a less positive sensation was becoming more prominent.

“Look, if you really don't want me touching you, that's fine, but I swear on my horn, Miss Dusty, that I only want to help.”

Bones still held that same concern, but there was more. A small, hidden sense of resignation laid in the back of his mind, ready to spring. And there was also... pity? Was that a good word for it? The soldier was unsure. All she knew for sure was that she situation she was in needed to be resolved soon. Bones seemed ready to put the situation to rest, but the other two still had their eyes on her, and the concern they had was beginning to foster a seed of suspicion over her. To allow the examination, or not., neither had a pleasant probability of working in her favor. However, looking over what was happening, if she turned down Bones' offer, she'd be inviting the scrutiny of two ponies over one. The one was a doctor, but still...

“Go ahead,” she finally consented, turning away from Bones to stare at her burning drink instead, taking a moment to suffer another sip.

“Alrighty then, let's have a look,” Bones decided, stepping forward and starting to feel around the soldier's wings, having a few bursts of curiosity as his touches in turn inspired some twitches on the disguised changeling's part in a few spots, “This part hurts then?”

The soldier was feeling grateful that ponies could not detect pheromones, because she could feel her body pushing out pain signals that would practically be screaming in her races “words”.

“Yes,” she stated with a calm that belied her agitated state.

“How much water did you have to drink while you were out there?” he went on.

“None,” she answered without really thinking.

The silence that fell caused the soldier to eventually look back at the doctor, sensing the state of alarm he was in. She saw him looking at her with wide eyes before looking down at the still filled glass of whiskey.

“You didn't have any water to drink for three days?” Bones asked incredulously.

Before the soldier could do anything to react, already lost in trying to think of how to handle this, Bones was already moving, pushing her glass away.

“This is last thing you need, quite frankly,” Bones then turned to the pony behind the table, “Clamp, I know you got some cider back there that ain't hard yet, get her a tall glass. I'll pay her tab.”

Clamp had briefly opened his mouth, ready to protest in someway, but it seemed a seriousness about this situation called for a change of attitude. The soldier just wished she knew how. She knew ponies drank water, needing it made sense, but was three days really so long to go without it? She supposed she had been struggling to go a few days without love or nectar, but it didn't seem like the same to her.

“This is bad then,” the soldier stated as a glass was brought up from behind the counter, filled with an opaque brown fluid.

“Bad – yes! Assuming yer telling the truth you probably pushed yourself to the most any sane pony could possibly go without water. Drink. Honestly it must be a miracle you lasted without succumbing to dehydration,” Bones shook his head as though in disbelief, “No wonder you seem so out of it, the sun must have cooked your noggin' like a loaf o' bread.”

The soldier wasn't entirely sure what was said, but nodded anyway before drinking from the glass. Whatever the cider was it was much less offensive to her body, going down without protest.

“Get 'er another glass. The cider should be alright until we get some plain water,” Bones thought aloud, looking between those who were there for a moment before looking back at the soldier, “Dusty, do you have somewhere to stay? Anywhere to sleep?”

The soldier blinked a few times as she tried to think of how to answer. She was starting to get in deep, which could be either good or bad. Good meaning she was successfully infiltrating into the role of a pony in a community. Bad, naturally, meant being on the brink of being discovered for what she truly was.

“No,” she answered simply.

“Well you're in luck then because I got space at the clinic. And drink,” he commanded, pointing at the refilled glass.

The soldier did so. The hydration did nothing for her, but at least this wasn't hurting. And it seemed to fit with what the pony wanted of her.

“Alright you two, wanna play nurse for me for a bit?” Bones asked, looking Knick Knack and Paddywhack's way. Paddywhack was hesitant but nodded, whilst Knick Knack was eagerly nodding from the start.

“Good. Help her over to the clinic, make sure she don't hurt herself. I'm gonna set up a bed for her,” the unicorn ordered, tossing a few metal discs on the table before heading out the double doors. Clamp gathering up the discs quickly.

Paddywhack looked between the soldier and Knick Knack before shrugged, standing on the side of the soldier opposite his friend.

“Well, you heard the doctor, let's go,” Paddywhack stated before waving his hoof to the door.

It didn't take too much prompting for Knick Knack to hop off his stool and start heading off to the door with Paddywhack. They both stopped and looked back at her for a moment, as she did basically nothing before eventually moving to follow along behind them. All she had to do at this point was follow them, she supposed. She did not look forward to leaving the ambiance of this place though. Surely enough, not long after stepping out, the soldier found herself stumbling. The concern from the two ponies, particularly Knick Knack, helped somewhat, but it just wasn't as sustaining compared to the building they were in before.

“Three days out in the desert? What happened? You didn't fall off the express or nothin' did ya?” Knick Knack asked.

“No pony would be so stupid as to just fall off a train like that,” Paddywhack responded with a roll of his eyes.

“I was in a fight,” soldier stated. It was the truth, but it didn't hurt to say that much, “I lost. I woke up out there.”

“Sweet Celestia, you must have ticked someone off somethin' fierce,” Knick Knack commented.

“Yes,” the soldier responded with what was becoming a usual shortness.

“I'll admit, you got me curious, who'd you anger to get the 'left to die' treatment?” Paddywhack finally gave in, asking a question of his own.

Then, the soldier knew she shouldn't have said anything. Thankfully, Paddywhack himself seemed willing to interpret a long silence from her relatively benignly.

“D' ya not remember, or just not want to talk about it?” Paddywhack went on.

“Yes,” the soldier answered unhelpfully, actually feeling rather woozy.

“Well... that's helpful...” Paddywhack shook his head, “Well here's hoping you didn't tick off someone big, cause I'd hate to be caught helpin' you then.”

“Paddywhack...” Knick Knack said chidingly towards the earth pony in question.

“Just a joke silly, you don't need to be this serious,” Paddywhack said with a roll of his eyes.

There was a huff on Knick Knack's part, but the pegasus otherwise said nothing else. Soon though, the small group had stopped at building, one of the few on this stretch of housing that had some lit windows when the soldier thought about it. That made the soldier then realize something she'd neglected to notice, which was how dark it had gotten. The sun was practically disappearing over the horizon by now. That seemed awful quick.

“There you two are,” Bones said as he poked his head out the door, “Bring her into the room on the left. She do alright on the way over? Any falls?”

“A few stumbles, but nothing major,” Paddywhack informed the doctor.

“Alright,” Bones nodded.

The two younger ponies eventually guided the soldier inside and in the room.

“I'm gonna need to grab a few other things,” Bones spoke before turning to Paddywhack, “I'll need you to go get a big canteen of water, and you,” Bones then looked to Knick Knack, “Keep an eye on her and make sure she don't fall over dead. She may be alive now but I'm willing to bet that even a miracle won't keep her standing all night.”

So wait, she would be alone with the pegasus? Sure enough, as the other two eventually departed the room, the soldier found herself sharing the space of the room with naught but Knick Knack. Her eyes centered on him for a moment before checking out the window in the room, trying to spot any chance that they were being watched. The moment was perfect, so perfect. The ache in her stomach egged her on to feed, her appetite already brought out more by the concern of the pegasus. At long last, she could have something hopefully substantial.

“I hope they don't take long,” Knick Knack thought aloud, looking out through to the front where the other two had disappeared to, “I ain't exactly the best at medicine, so if something hap--”

Knick Knack turned about as he spoke, and immediately halted as he found himself face to face with the intense stare of the disguised changeling. Knick Knack wasn't sure what to make of the soldier's expression—he kind of felt like he was in line of sight of a predator, but the situation surrounding him threw that off from translating perfectly into how he acted.

“Uh, you okay there, Dusty?” Knick Knack nervously asked, taking a few steps back. Such steps were immediately nullified though as the soldier matched his pace, eventually backing him up into a corner, “You uh, you need something?”

“Yes.”

It was strange, hearing the soldier speak that single word. Despite having what seemed like a usual shortness, Knick Knack swore he heard her speaking with a greater sense of emotion than he had detected form her before. This amount of insistence, need...

“Oh, uh, well, what can I get for ya?” he asked.

“Just stay with me for now,” the soldier said, her face practically right up in his for a moment before moving forward, her head moving past Knick Knacks own and bring a hoof up to hold him in place.

“Uh, sure?” Knick Knack agreed reluctantly, growing a little warmer and redder in the face at the insistence of the close contact.

As Knick Knack brought up a hoof of his own to return the “hug” he was perceiving, something also occurred, a small amount of shape shifting on the soldier's part. With the others away, and her head out of Knick Knack's line of sight, the soldier allowed her changeling horn to sprout back into place. A soft green glow, reminiscent of fire, encompassed it, then flowed back to connect with Knick Knack. The feeding process began, the magic pulling on Knick Knack's emotions, the positive feelings he had been having starting to flow out of him and into the soldier. The magic also worked a vital side-effect, scrambling Knick Knack's short term memory.

“I... what... what is...” he started to question, only to be held even tighter by the soldier.

“Just stay,” she said, her voice sounding actually tranquil for once as she drank in the feelings, letting them sit in her figurative stomach. After days in the desert, surviving not just the battle that blasted her into the middle of nowhere, but the battle that led her here, to finally have a meal like this... the soldier couldn't think of a comparison that did the feeling within her justice.

Knick Knack began to grow physically weak in his legs, starting to fall to the ground. The soldier went with him, continuing to sap him until they were both on the ground and the soldier herself felt satisfied. She actually felt rather sleepy, between all the activity of the day a good meal digesting in her. The wood floor here wasn't the most comfortable, but the soldier didn't really care that much. She'd slept on hard ground before. Shifting her horn back out of sight, the soldier laid her head on the body of the now sleepy Knick Knack – he wasn't entirely asleep, but he was already well on his way. Laying there, feeling the heat of the other pony, the soldier drifted to sleep reminded of how she slept with the hive, with her fellow changelings, all staying together and helping each with their body heat and mutual protection with the shifting night guard. While there certainly were not as many bodies around now compared to that, this felt like enough of a contrast compared to the nights in the desert to be enough.

No more starving. If the soldier could keep this up, maybe her chances of getting through this and back among her kind would improve...

Chapter 3 - The Doctor

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Chapter Three – The Doctor

Ol' Sawbones, or just Bones as he was more often called, had not expected to be taking on an extra patient that day. In fact, he had been quite ready to tell whoever walked in after he closed the clinic for the day to just walk off whatever they had. In truth though, depending on how serious it was, he would have gladly done the service of helping. It wasn't to say though that his attitude had been without reason. After Scornful and his gang rolled into today and messed up some ponies something fierce, Bones had gotten tired of trying to deal with people, especially when some had needed more attention than others. So, it was because of that that Bones had felt grateful for being able to make it to the saloon and have a chance to unwind with a few friends. He thought he was in the clear for sure. And then that odd mare came in.

For a moment when he caught sight of her coming in, looking like she'd just taken a drag ride through a dune, Bones thought for sure that she was there because she had followed word of where to find the local doctor. When instead she just came up, took a seat a fair number of stools away and got a drink, he felt relieved. As he heard her story though, about being out in the desert for days without water... It seemed too incredible to believe, but looking at her, there seemed to some semblance of credibility there. Her wings felt odd as well—they seemed like they had been subject to a lot impact from the feel of what was underneath the hair and skin, but weirdly there was no sign of a bruise.

So of course, against his “better” judgement, Bones had decided to resume his doctoring duties. Fortunately Knick Knack and Paddywhack were of the mind to help, which was good. Then again, they were good stallions. They might have been younger than him by half, but they were capable fellows. Knick Knack needed some wisdom, but then many ponies still did when they were that age. He seemed like he could handle a simple lookout for a while for now at least.

Bones in the meantime, was heading over to his house where some of his personal supplies – including some food – were located. He was making a quick inventory of what was needed in his head when a voice caught his attention.

“Hey, Doctor Sawbones?” the young, male voice inquired.

Bones looked down to see, to his surprised, Cameo.

“Well hello there young colt – I must say it's pleasant to see you back and well, but I got a patient to take care of,” Bones said, trying to politely get the kid off and away from him.

“Wait, is your patient a reddish pegasus mare with a necklace?” Cameo asked, trying to keep pace with the older pony, which was soon made easy as Bones slowed for a moment to process what he was told.

“She is, yes. You know her?” this could actually be incredibly relavent.

“Know 'er? She's the one that got me away from Scornful's folk.”

So that's who she'd fought... though from the sound of what she described, she'd lost. Was this separate? Or maybe Scornful had dragged her out there to die then she found him and took revenge?

“Well, I'll admit we were wondering how you got away at the saloon, that explains it,” Bones thought.

It was pretty amazing really. She'd seemed so low key it was hard to believe she'd been out there for so long and survived two fights. That in itself made Bones wonder though if maybe there wasn't something fishy about this. Could she be here as a hire, a plant from Scornful? That wouldn't make a lot of sense though since she brought back the colt that Scornful made a big show of saying he'd ransom back for a big enough price. And while he was a crafty fellow, Bones couldn't see Scornful being willing to let his image and by extension, his ego, take a hit by appearing to be taken down by one pony. It just wasn't in his nature – and unfortunately Bones was quite familiar with Scornful's nature.

“Is she okay? I didn't mean to leave her behind but when I saw town all I could think about was my mom and dad and – “ Cameo asked, his shame very evident on his face.

“She seems like she could be better, but she could be worse. Taking care of her right now. In fact, you can help me carry back some supplies on the way back if you like,” Bones smiled down at the colt. Didn't hurt to help make the kid useful.

“Yes sir! I can do that,” Cameo nodded back.

Ah, the vigor of youth... Still, Bones could help but wonder something else.

“I'm surprised you aren't home right now, I'd reckon your parents would have been worried sick about you now that I think about it,” Bones finally figured.

“Uuuuum...”

Uh oh. Bones knew what that sound meant. He sighed haggardly.

“You snuck out didn't you?” he asked.

“Nnnn-yyyeaa-maybe?” the colt tried, the situation was rather transparent though.

“Go home, Cameo,” Bones ordered.

“But I--”

“Cameooooo!” shouted another voice altogether, “There you are! You come back this instant youngin'.”

And here comes Braeburn. Bones seriously hoped the stallion could talk some sense into his cousin, but he honestly has not sure. Braeburn – the poor fellow usually had his heart in the right place but he tended to, well... to put it one way, Bones wouldn't have put it past it being Braeburn's fault that the colt got out.

“But cuz', I need to help somepony, it's the mare that I told you about!” Cameo insisted.

“No, you need to get back to my place and apologize to your folks for sneaking out like you have, you've nearly given them a heart attack!”

“But Braeburn --”

“No more buts! Ya'll head home this instant, ya hear? I'll help out ol' Sawbones with yer friend, nothin' to worry about.”

Cameo looked down reluctantly, some frustration clear on his face, but he eventually nodded and headed back the way Braeburn came. Bones, who had stopped momentarily from witnessing the exchange, resumed his pace, Braeburn following alongside him.

“Sorry if my cousin bothered you there, doc,” the leather vested pony apologized.

“Wasn't a problem. Poor colt just wanted to help out somepony that helped him. Just unfortunate he decided to be a disobedient one about it,” Bones nodded.

The two stallions came to a stop at Bones place not too long after, the conversation continuing as Bones went in and started to look around for his materials, Braeburn staying behind him.

“Yeah, to tell the truth I'm not looking forward to going back myself, I'm feeling pretty certain I'll be getting an earful myself for not locking the place up. Even though I swear I did—every door at least. Noticed one of the windows cracked open on my way out,” Braeburn figured, tipping his hat upa little as he did, looking Bone's living room idly as the unicorn open a chest and was using his telekinesis to sort through what he needed.

“I reckon you also figure that because of experience,” Bones thought with a smirk, glancing out of the corner of his eye for a moment to see Braeburn looking self-consciously over the ground.

“Well, maybe,” Braeburn replied, scuffing the floor a little bit with a hoof.

“I knew you when you was just a colt Brae, no sense in pretending,” Bones went on as he filled a set of saddlebags and floated them off to Braeburn. The strong stallion was in his prime after all, he could carry all that.

“Well, yeah, but I like to think I've done my share of growing,” Braeburn insisted.

“And you have,” Bones said as he walked outside with the other stallion still keeping up despite the extra weight, “Just saying that's how it is. I feel safe in saying that sort of thing is in your blood, cuz that streak is a long one. Not just you an' Cameo, but your cousin Applejack, Granny Smith, Red Gala – there's something to you Apples.”

“... Sneaking out?” Braeburn said, confused, as though he wondering if he should be offended.

“A stubborn streak you silly stallion,” Bones rolled his eyes, “When you want to do something you set to it until what your doing gives, or until you give.”

“Oh, well... I suppose?”

“Don't think too hard on it fella' just making an observation,” Bones insisted.

The two stallions eventually came to a stop outside the clinic. Bones was pleasantly surprised to see Paddywhack sticking his head out the door, looking around with an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Well, how's the patient?” Bones asked.

Paddywhack sighed, holding a hoof to his face for a moment.

“Just... just see for yourself,” he insisted, pointing into the room that Dusty had been put in.

Bones was concerned, immediately looking in before trying and failing to hold in a laugh.

“What, what is it?” Braeburn asked before looking in himself, “Oh my.”

“Well, I imagined Knick Knack would do his best to make her feel comfortable, but I can't say I expected that,” Bones went on, continuing to vent his amusement.

Right there in a corner of the room was Dusty and Knick Knack on the floor. Judging from the positioning, she looked like she approached.

“Honestly surprising though,” Bones then said as he laid the supplies he'd gathered from his house on a convenient table. He glanced over at a sealed jug that Paddywhack seemed to have dragged over, “We were only gone a few minutes I thought,”

“Wouldn't be the first time Knick Knack couldn't hold his liquor,” Paddywhack observed.

“There's that yeah, but I also mean how it looks here. She didn't seem too keen on being approached at the saloon,” Bones brought up – she'd seemed rather insistent on being left alone, which was perfectly understandable. As well off as Equestrian society was as a whole, Bones knew well how some folks could grow a hard shell to others. It was rather sad really, how some seemed to get the impression that they were better off without the rest of the world – or perhaps sometimes worse, thinking the world was better off without them.

“She was at the saloon huh?” Braeburn asked, looking her over, “That's... decently far I guess.”

Broken form his previous thoughts Bones looked over to Braeburn, piecing together a little of what those words meant.

“You saw her in town before now?” Bones asked.

“Yeah, right around Knick Knack's place actually. Saw her stumblin' into an alley. She looked mighty beat up so I thought I'd try to help her, but...”

“She refused.”

Braeburn nodded at Bones' conclusion.

“Think she'll be alright?” Braeburn asked.

“I'm sure she will, just help her into bed,” Bones responded, nodding at Braeburn before motioning to Paddywhack to help him out, disentangling Knick Knack and Dusty in the process. The two earth ponies were then just left to watch as the doctor did his work, trying to help Dusty with a slow drip of water into her mouth, just a little at a time to make sure she wasn't drowned because of incompetency. Three days in the desert then dying of drowning, that sure as Tartarus would be ironic if there was ever a good use for the word.

“Apparently she's a soldier,” Braeburn muttered as he watched.

“What was that?” Paddywhack asked.

“A soldier. Cameo mentioned it while describing her, said she'd used that very word for herself.”

Bones found himself looking directly at Dusty's eyes at the mention of that.

“A soldier huh. Maybe that'd explain some things,” Bones figured.

“How do you mean, doc?” Braeburn asked.

Bones glanced back at Braeburn for a moment before refocusing on Dusty.

“Brae, did yer father ever tell you about his service?” the doctor asked.

“His service? Like his military service?”

“Aye.”

“Well... he mentioned his 'brothers-in-arms' or something like that, being places, not much beyond that. He wasn't exactly one to talk about it much,” Braeburn thought for a moment, “How's that figure in about Dusty though?”

“Just thinkin' is all,” Bones shook his head, “I've known a fair share of those brave ponies who come back from the borders. Not all of them really come back, even if they seem to.”

“I... don't think I entirely get what you mean,” Braeburn shrugged.

“And hopefully you'll never need to,” Bones mused.

“I swear he said something like that once too...”

A silence fell over the room on the note, everypony there lost for a moment in the atmosphere that had started to be generated from the conversation.

“One er both of y'all should probably get Knick Knack back to his place,” Bones eventually noted, bringing the silence to a thankful close.

“Right,” Paddywhack nodded, already going over to get Knick Knack up off the floor, carrying him out.

Bones took note of Braeburn's continued presence.

“You know it'll be better if you just go back to them now,” Bones noted.

“Yeah, just afraid of facing them I guess,” Braeburn said as he rubbed the side of his neck with a hoof, “Wantin' to keep putting it off.”

Braeburn sighed before starting to head out the door.

“Think she'll be good to talk in the mornin'? I reckon Cinnamon and Wheel are gonna wanna personally thank the pony that saved their foal when they get a chance,” the vested stallion asked.

Bones nodded slightly.

“I think there's a decent chance of that. I'll just turn 'em away if she doesn't see well. Judging on what she's survived through though I willing to guess it'll take more than dehydration to keep her down.”

Braeburn nodded back himself before finally committing fully to heading out the door.

“Thanks doc.”

“Mhm.”

With the other ponies gone, Bones was left alone to look after the mare for a while, wondering on the nature of her. She looked fairly young, maybe a little more than Braeburn's age. What skirmishes could she have been involved in then? Bones knew that Equestria hadn't been in an official war in years, but that didn't mean that fights still didn't happen. The griffin empire and the minotaur tribes held an uneasy peace with Equestria, though that didn't stop rogue elements from getting into scuffs either. Bones sighed as he dripped a little more water into Dusty's mouth. He felt grateful that he didn't live a country where there was a constant threat of attack, a constant need to heed the need to survive. On the other hand though, it felt like cases of soldiers coming back... worse for wear, for lack of better term, were avoided topics of conversation, even though they ought to be addressed. This poor mare – did she have any family who could support her? Or was that why she was out in the middle of no where, picking fights with criminals? That was a serious death drive if that was the case. And if it was, what should he do? Just do what he could for her and let her go through on her merry way to drift wherever?

Bones shook his head. For all he knew he was thinking too far ahead. Even if he wanted to help her, he had no guarantee she would be willing to accept it. He practically twisted her hoof to get her to come along and get looked at.

After finishing up a little more light direct drinking towards Dusty, Bones finally took a break and stepped back, de-leviating the dropper he had been using to give her water. Just let her rest for now, maybe have her take some vitamins in the morning. In the meantime, Bones decided to lock up the front door and lay on one of the extra beds in the clinic. No sense in heading back home when it was this late anyways. Bones looked out the door through across the main room to the other room where Dusty was.

“G'night miss.”

Chapter 4 - The Dream and the Past

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Chapter Four - The Dream and the Past

She had a dream. One she actually remembered as she awakened – no banishment to the unconsciousness as so often happened, so dissolve of the logic in the light of day.

The soldier was walking midst the ponies, receiving odd looks. She started to wonder if maybe she had been spotted in some way, or at the least if they were suspicious of her. She moved along, ducking down an alley, nervous. Eye sight, all those ponies watching her... they had to know, how else could they not? Looking ahead, the soldier spotted one of them standing at the other end. She looked around, seeing that another pony had taken up up the other end. She glanced between the two of the them, her wings raising up and ready to take off.

“Are you okay?”

“Hey Dusty, are you okay?”

The soldier tried to fly up, but a strain caused her to crash back down, her injury still hindering her.

“Is something wrong, Dusty?”

“Tell us Dusty.”

The soldier tried to get up, but all of a sudden, is was as though she lost all energy in her legs, and she just collapsed on the ground. She looked between the two ponies closing in on her. Braeburn and Bones. The soldier struggled, trying to crawl away by one of them, but was stopped bya hoof from Braeburn stomping onto her and holding her in place.

“Tell us Dusty,” Braeburn commanded in a stilted manner, leaning as head down in front of her face.

“What is wrong with you?” Bones asked, “You are irregular. You do not belong here.”

“I belong,” the soldier insisted, “I am a pony. I am just injured. That is why I am not exactly right.”

“No. You are irregular. You are not correct,” Braeburn and Bones spoke at the same time, “You are Dusty. You are wrong. You are not real.”

“Y- yes I am. I am not heard of.”

“You do not belong,” the two ponies chanted, along the voices of a few others.

The soldier looked around to see the walls becoming more pony's, all of them standing there and judging her.

“You must be ejected for the sake of all,” their voices sung together in unison.

The soldier got a buck to her ribs before something smashed her in the head.

“You are irregular,” the voices sung together.

After the soldier shook her head, trying to regain her senses, she saw herself surrounded not by ponies, but by other changelings of the hive, but they still sat in judgment of her.

“You should not have returned,” the hive told her, “You failed. You failed our queen and all the rest of us in our most vital moment.”

“I, I couldn't help it, it was already--” the soldier tried to rebut what was being said before her will was wilted but a sudden loud declaration.

“SILENCE. You are useless, you bring nothing to the hive. You are irregular. You do not belong here,” the many voices declared, before bizarrely switching over the strange drawl that the ponies of Applooza seemed to speak in, “Y'all should have just died out there in that desert.”

“I... I am...” the soldier tried to think.

“You do not listen to the hive. You are irregular. You listen to yourself. You must be ejected. You must be disappeared.”

“I didn't, I can't...”

“It's okay Dusty,” the voice of the hive seemed to switch at the drop of a hat to something more warm and inviting, “You did your best.”

A changeling stepped out form the crowd. It was bizarre, because this drone in particular seemed to resemble Bones, both in superficial appearance as well as mannerisms.

“We still want you. We know you can still serve us. It's all we want, for you to do what you do best,” Bones said with a melancholic smile, leaning in to hug the soldier.

The changeling felt as though she were suddenly overflowing with love. It made her warm, spreading all through out her, a strangely comfortable overwhelming feeling. She was back. She'd traveled so long, had been separated from the hive for so long, had failed them, and yet... They still accepted her. A moisture started to gather in her eyes, threatening to fall in the form of tears.

“Everything will be okay,” Bones assured her.

“Everything will be okay,” the soldier repeated.

She was one with the hive again. She had her place, and she was appreciated for it. She would be fine.

Until, eventually, the waking world robbed her of this happy ending her dreams granted her. The soldier reluctantly opened her eyes, seeing the natural sunlight out the window. She didn't move though, not for a while. She spent a while in a sort of mourning for what she lost, wishing she could hold that overflowing feeling again.

“Hey doc? I'm here about the redressing my wound thing you mentioned?” a voice asked out the door, forcing the soldier to have to push herself back into reality to properly assess what was going on. She kept still, but paid attention nonetheless. This first voice seemed unfamiliar.

“Ah yes, come on in, let's try to get that done right quick,” the voice of Bones said.

That was right, he'd insisted on bringing her here. What was she doing on the bed though? Moved perhaps? Had to have been to have been taken off the floor. The soldier fidgeted her limbs to check to make sure if they were bound or not, thankfully it was the latter. Hadn't been found out and moved then. The soldier continued to listen to the two for a moment, though she didn't catch too much that seem useful. They seemed to discuss a lot of unnecessary things, like the weather. Or something they just read. Then again, ponies seemed to do a lot of things that were not entirely necessary. The soldier did try to hang onto some of what was being said though, in case she might have some use for them. Eventually, the unknown pony was let out, Bones following them to the door of the clinic, and waving as they left before turning to notice the soldier looking at him through the doorway of her own room.

“Well then, good morning,” Bones greeted, coming up the door and leaning in, “Are we awake?”

The soldier was mildly confused about the question, including the nature of the use of the plural. Was he meaning that the both of them were awake? He could obviously tell he was himself, so then he would logically most likely just ask if she was awake. Or was this another odd pony thing? The soldier finally answered after pregnant pause filled the room.

“We are awake,” she stated, before looking up to the open window. Just go along with the plural.

“Well that's good. How're you feeling? Any better than last night?”

“Better than last night, yes.”

“That's good – shows a wonder what a little rehydration can do,” Bones said before gesturing to the table in front of her, or more precisely a container on the table, “There's some vitamins in that bottle there. Measured them out myself. I recommend you take them. It's good to have your nutrition in balance, and being out he desert for days is gonna leave the body yearning.”

“Okay,” the soldier replied simply.

The soldier didn't move though. Neither did Bones. The soldier looked to where the pony still has at the doorway. He smiled and shook his head, walking over elsewhere in the main room.

“They're not poisonous y'know. Just trying to look out for your health.”

The soldier sat up on the bed, staring at the bottle. Would pony medicine be harmful to her? There was a chance it could be harmless, but at the same time... The soldier decided to just through back the pills in her mouth. She was already taking risks being here, what was another like this one? She continued to sit for a while, thinking on what else might be happening, and what had happened.

“There were two other ponies,” she stated.

“Hm?” Bones called for the other room, “Could you repeat that?”

“There were two other ponies,” The soldier repeated in the exact same tone and volume as Bones returning to the doorway, “What happened to them?”

“Oh, yer thinking of Knick Knack and Paddywhack. I suspect they're back at their jobs by this time of the morning. Actually, that reminds me of something else I was wondering, what exactly happened between you and Knick Knack last night? We found the both ya holding each other in your sleep when we got back.”

The fear was set off in the soldier's mind again. She was thankful she wasn't feeling as empty of a stomach as before, but then there was this situation. The soldier felt ashamed of herself for leaving that open. She could have at least gotten into bed.

“I don't know,” she tried.

“Y'don't know? Are you sure miss?”

The soldier tried to key into Bone's stream of thoughts. Was it maybe possible he'd buy that? It seemed like it might be permitted.

“I don't remember. I was brought back here, then I don't recall anything after.”

“I see,” Bones nodded, though there seemed to be a feeling of disappointment coming off of him.

The soldier continued to watch him as he stared down at the floor, a confused flow of emotions and serious thought going through his head.

“Miss Dusty, there's something I've been meaning to ask. Are you going anywhere in particular?” Bones finally asked.

Anywhere she was going... It could be an attempt to fish information out of her. Either to discern her nature. Or if they knew her nature, maybe they were trying to get more out of her. Hints to where her colony was.

“No, no where in particular,” she stoically insisted.

“Just a drifter then, I take it?” Bones asked as he came in more and sat by her.

The soldier blinked slowly as she tried to figure out what the doctor meant by that. Drifter? Someone who drifts then? Who slowly moves? That didn't seem like it made sense... Bones shook his head and waved his hoof dismissively.

“Yeah, I guess that was more redundant than I was figuring,” he said with a slight chuckle. soldier sensed a small amount of discomfort – embarrassment? – coming from him at that remark. “Look, point is, since you're here, I'm figuring, well, Cameo said – you recall that colt you rescued the other day?”

The soldier nodded.

“Yeah, well that was Cameo. He said you managed to get those outlaws real good, though I wasn't sure how much I should believe. You know how kids can be with their overactive imaginations.”

The soldier, despite not being entirely sure about the last sentence, nodded her head anyways. It seemed to work at least.

“I was able to fight them, yes.”

Bones' eyes went wide.

“All nine of them?” he asked incredulously.

Nine? No, that couldn't be right, where did that number come from?

“There were three ponies in that cave, not including Cameo,” she stated.

“Well that's... I suppose that makes it more believable. I'd like to know how you did it though. Cameo said you managed to knock 'em all down in the dark like it was nothing.” Bones then inquired.

That could potentially be a problem then. What could she say to that? After all, ponies weren't exactly the best in the dark, so why... talent maybe? She recalled that about ponies, that they seemed to gravitate towards specific tasks and talents as part of their rite of passage into adulthood. Except that she had not gone by that line of choice for what her mark was. The soldier looked back over herself at the mark on her flank. It was a bunch of twisting rays of light coming out form a small depiction of the sun, the same as the one of the mare in that picture she found. She hadn't thought too much on that aspect when taking on this form. Now she was wishing she had been able to anticipate this situation. She couldn't say it was her “special talent”, so what else could she say? Wait... Bones had mentioned something about overactive imaginations. The soldier wasn't entirely sure what the word “imagination” meant, but considering the word “image” was in there, that seemed like a clue. Overacting imaging. The colt maybe saw something that wasn't true then, is that what that meant? His eyes had seen something that wasn't there?

“Overactive imagination,” the soldier said at first, trying to get an idea of using the word, trying to think of what to say without taking too long to speak, “The darkness was not that obscuring. Perhaps they had trouble adapting to the lowered light levels.”

“Huh, okay, that makes a little more sense,” the doctor said, though the soldier could sense a mix of confusion and disappointment within him, “Still, that's impressive. And actually, speaking of Cameo, the tyke and his folks were by earlier, they wanted to thank you for rescuing him.”

“I see,” the soldier blinked a few times at that. She was actually kind of disappointed to have missed out on that. She recalled that the colt's feelings of gratitude had given her a nice boost.

“If you're willing to stay around for a bit – which as a medical professional I recommend you rest anyways – I'm sure they'll come by again later today,”

While the soldier wasn't entirely sure about the idea of sticking around in this town much longer, she wouldn't mind some gratitude. And besides, if she was in a low energy state through most of the day, she could afford to do so. The soldier nodded slightly.

“I can rest,” she stated.

“Good, that's very good,” Bones smiled, “I'll be having some more water on hand soon, and I'm planning to get you a proper meal as well. I'm gonna observe you for a while, and hopefully you'll be alright when this is all said and done by days end.”

The soldier, again, slightly nodded.

“And don't worry about the cost by the way, this service is on me,” Bones went on.

The soldier stared blankly at Bones. There was a feeling of happiness from the doctor – a feeling of generosity was it? – which seemed good, but the soldier wasn't sure what to make about the idea of no cost. In general, yes, she was familiar with the idea of cost, but the way he was speaking, how did he mean it? The soldier knew everything had a cost or requirement. Building and maintaining a defensive structure had a cost of resources and time after all, for example. This meant he was taking on the cost of this “healing” then? Between the water and food?

“Well, I mean, for one, you don't exactly seem like some pony who's flush with bits, if you know what I mean. And well, I can't just leave a pony in need so, and well... to be honest, you seem like some pony who can use all the blessings they can get,” Bones explained, reading into the nature of her blank stare.

The soldier just nodded. Again, she wasn't entirely sure about everything he meant, but she might as well keep playing along.

“Doc? Think you could help us out?” a voice called from the front door, a freshly arrived pony “Hammer got himself into a mean 'ol mess at the smithy and we could use you.”

“Certainly, I'll be there momentarily,” Bones called back before looking back to the soldier, “Alright Dusty, I'll try not to be gone long. I'm lookin' to give you a quick once over once I get back. I got a few books on the shelf over there you can keep yourself entertained for a while.”

The soldier nodded before turning her attention over to the shelf in question as Bones walked out. It was right next to her bed, so no real trouble to reach in and pull out one of the books. She left it on the bed as she stared at it for a moment. Books. The hive didn't have any, but the soldier recognized it for what it was, after the time she'd spent with infiltrators. They were large compilations of 'writing' that the ponies used to store and pass on information. It was a curious concept to the soldier, because the hive had always, in her experience at least, always survived by the transference of information through individual drones to each other. Inexperienced drones would learn from the experienced, which was just about guaranteed to always happen because there was usually a mix of generations working on any individual project. When the experienced eventually pass on, the younger are by that time learned enough to take on their role for the next generation. It worked well. Then again, ponies weren't quite linked together in that same way. They undoubtedly had communities yes, but they were not the same, they had communication limited to verbality and a few physical non-verbal cues. And there seemed to be a greater emphasis on separation of individual groups. The hive had a multitude of castes, yes, but that was a split based on role. The ponies seemed so often split into 'families', forks of lineage. It seemed so unnecessary in the soldier's eyes when it was perfectly easy enough to just have individuals be raised and eventually find a split based on merit.

Shaking her head, the Soldier refocused back on the book herself. On the cover was a picture of of a tan-colored pegasus with a mane in a spectrum of gray scale. She was rearing up as she held a scepter of some kind in her mouth, looking forward as though out at a potential reader, with a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Up in the sky was an image of the moon and a few other large objects that seemed to be making a line. Markings that seemed to be in the equestrian language marked the front of the book as well. The soldier then flipped the book over, looking at the back, which was dominated almost entirely by writing. Writing she could not discern the meaning of. By necessity, the soldier had memorized the meaning of a few written words, but this wall of marks? Utterly meaningless to her. It was an infiltrator's job to more thoroughly understand the meaning of these words. Curiosity drove the disguised changeling to keep looking into it though, she didn't have much else to do after all. Flipping open the book to a random page, the soldier was once more greeted to a wall of text. More gibberish she couldn't understand. She continued to flip through the pages until she got to something that was a little more interesting, a small black and white illustration over what what the soldier thought was a large number symbol. She wasn't sure which number it was, but she was sure it was one of the symbols that represented a number. It was another picture of the mare from the front of the book, except this time she appeared to be in a dark place, standing over some sort of stone tablet. Interesting. The soldier flipped through few more pages until she came to another, similar break amidst the sea of words, to another illustration. It was a picture of an area, showing a small silhouette of the mare, except here she was shown to be just a single, small figure against a large stone brick room, an image of the night sky shining down onto some sort of table. The soldier continued to flip through the book, trying to find meaning, as much as she could at least, from these occasional illustrations. They were pleasant to look at, at least, gave her something to focus on for a moment. Eventually though, the soldier would reach an end. She returned to the start of the book to look back over the pictures she missed, through to the end again. The soldier wasn't entirely sure what the book was about all in all, but she garnered enough to gather it was about this mare. It involved the moon and several other objects making a line, going to different places, and battling other ponies until eventually encountering some sort of... dog creature? It was hard to discern exactly. The soldier wasn't sure about the significance or purpose of the book, what it was supposed to teach, but it had been an interesting distraction for a while at least.

Laying the book on the table in front of her, considering getting another to at least look at the pictures of, the soldier found herself realizing she was being watched. She looked up to see a colt and a couple fillies she didn't recognize staring in through the front door, in turn through her room door, at her. The soldier felt disappointed in herself for not having noticed them earlier, but supposed she had been sufficiently distracting herself. And besides, at least the foals weren't dangerous, as far as the soldier could tell at a first glance. The soldier was uncertain about how to handle their presence though. They were just staring at her until she started to stare back, which seemed to intimidate them enough to disappear behind the door frame and whisper among themselves for a moment before popping back out. One of the fillies waved.

“Hey there!” she said.

The soldier waved back with a hoof in turn.

“Yer Dusty, right?” the filly then asked.

The soldier nodded, which was followed up by a bounce of excitement from the filly.

“Cool! Cameo was talkin' to us about you – we weren't sure what we should believe,” the filly went on as she walked inside, followed behind by the colt and other filly. They seemed a little more resistant about this, but at the same time the soldier could sense a good deal of curiosity and excitement in them. They asked some questions similar to what Bones had been asking not too long ago, how much was real, if she really was able to fight off three outlaws. The soldier merely repeated along the lines of what she had said before, no sense in changing her story after all. It was strange to be repeating this information when it seemed like the information was already well enough out there. If it weren't for the fact that the ponies were so out of sync with each other, the soldier would have suspected that she was being checked to make sure she was not providing false information. The 'interrogation' was interrupted however, by another source.

“Shouldn't you foals be in school?”

The voice was masculine, one of a stallion. The soldier glanced to the door to see a sight that put her into a minor state of worry. The stallion looked familiar. He was older than in the picture, but he unmistakably resembled the stallion from the picture she had been looking at that had also featured the mare she based part of her appearance on.

“Oh uh, hey there Sheriff Silverstar, we uh, we're on recess. So we thought we'd come take a look at Dusty here,” one of the fillies said nervously.

“Recess huh?” Silverstar pondered before looking outside and down the street, “That ended a couple minutes ago if I do recall.”

The foals all looked mollified at that – the soldier felt a colt shot roll through her system as they experienced fear.

“W-we didn't mean to sheriff, honest! Please don't take us to the jail!” the colt pleaded.

The sheriff looked very serious, scowling as he stepped back and pointed a hoof in a direction before saying “Alright, just so long as you go directly to school.”

He spoke deadly serious, but the soldier sensed a fair amount of amusement underneath that exterior. The foals all went off without argument, running as fast as their little legs could take them. The sheriff, after following the foals with his eyes for a moment, turned to look into the room where the soldier was.

“Dusty, huh?” he asked, taking a a few steps closer, leaning into the room.

“Yes,” the soldier answered simply. She wasn't entirely sure how she could answer any other way.

The sheriff scrutinized her for a moment, giving the soldier a chance to assess his emotion state. There was obvious curiosity, but also a knot of other emotions that mashed together in a way that was making it hard to discern what exactly he was thinking. Though for what it was worth, chances were he was a having a hard time as well. Nostalgia, anger, confusion, yearning. What could possibly cause such a confluence of emotions?

“Am I familiar to you?” he asked.

The soldier recognized him from the picture, but otherwise nothing else came to mind. She obviously couldn't say that though. There was a chance, the soldier was willing to believe, that he thought she was the same mare as the one in the picture. She could probably get away with a yes, that opened up a whole other can of worms. For one, it would potentially produce an expectation of her knowing things which she did not. The only reason she'd likely gotten away with as much as she had was because she was playing ignorant of some things.

“No,” she finally stated after a moment of looking at him.

He raised an eyebrow at that. There was doubt, more so than what the soldier had experienced in others so far, but he was moving on to other matters.

“Well alright then. I heard you had managed to knock out some wanted criminals, most likely in one of their hideouts. I don't suppose you'd be able to point out where that was exactly?” he asked.

“In a canyon southwest of the town,” the soldier complied. No point in lying about that after all.

“Got a thought on that that's anymore detailed than that?” Silverstar asked.

“I do not. I am not too familiar with the area. I followed Cameo to here,” the soldier clarified.

The sheriff sighed, but nodded.

“Alright, if you insist,” he said before taking another look over her. There was an oddly long pause, “I don't suppose you had a mother who looked an awful lot like you?”

Don't suppose... so how should she respond to that? He didn't suppose it, so maybe it was logical to say no.

“I do not, no.”

“I see...” the sheriff said ponderously before he pulled his hat down for a moment, “Pardon me for a such questions. You just, well... to be completely honest, you resemble someone I once knew.”

He was definitely the one then. And maybe, the soldier thought, it was for the best she went with the answer she did.

“I see,” she answered again with usual simplicity.

There was another long, uncomfortable pause, in which the soldier could sense the maelstrum of emotions trying to find a calm before there was an attempt to push them back.

“Well, I'm gonna looking into those outlaws some more. If you're planning to stick around, we'd certainly welcome a chance for you to give them a knocking around. They've been a problem for a while, so we got a reward out for their capture. So if you need any bits, feel free to give a shot at knocking them around and bringing them in,” Silverstar finally said.

The soldier again simply nodded. Once more there was that mix of emotion threatening to break the surface with a pause in conversation. Thankfully, another coming into the area changed that.

“Hello there Silver, not harassing my patient I hope?” Bones asked from right behind Silverstar.

“Bones!” the sheriff startled slightly before looking behind himself, “Oh not trying to anyway, just wanted to ask her a few questions.”

“Is that so? Well, how about that Dusty? He bothering you?” Bones asked, directly addressing the soldier.

The Soldier shrugged. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond, yet again, but going with a non-committal seemed best. Bones seemed to be doing what Silverstar had been doing anyways, having a hidden air of joviality under the serious words.

“Hmm,” the doctor hummed with exaggerated thoughtfulness, “Well I suppose it doesn't hurt to keep you around.”

The sheriff groaned a little, catching on to Bone's act.

“In all seriousness though doc, I'd like to have a word with when you've got a moment,” Silverstar huffed.

It was Bones turn to have a little groan himself, but he did not object otherwise.

“Just give me a moment to look over Dusty and I'll talk about whatever you need,” he acquiesced with a roll of his eyes, “Never been a dull moment since them Scornful sorts been actin' up...”

Bones went into a quick examination from there, asking a few questions which the soldier tried to answer to the best of her abilities. She was still unsure how well she was blending in, but there was no reaction from either the doctor or nearby sheriff that indicated otherwise.

“Your wings seem to be doing better, that's an welcoming surprise,” Bones remarked after a little more prodding.

“How so?” the soldier asked.

“Well that's a good question. I wouldn't expect a pegasus to recover this quickly. You got any earth pony blood in your lineage?” Bones asked in turn, only to receive a shrug, “Well, I wouldn't be surprised if you do. They're a hardy folk. In any case, I wouldn't recommend pushing yourself too much with the flying anyways. In fact, I'd say keep yourself ground bound for at least a few more days.”

The soldier glanced back at the wings on her back. Her body must have acted on it's own a little, engaging in some accelerated healing while she slept. It wouldn't be the first time it happened, some bodily functions were naturally automatic, but she just hadn't figured she had taken on enough positive emotion to merit that kind of self-healing. Eventually, the soldier noticed something else, which was Bone's eyes being drawn to the book on the table.

“A Daring Do fan, huh?” the doctor asked, pointing at the book.

That must be what the book was about then. Whatever Daring Do was. Still, she didn't really know what the book was about. Admitting she couldn't read seemed like it would be a dead giveaway about what exactly she way. Still, if she was asked more in depth about what the book was about, that would give her away as well.

“I like the pictures,” she finally decided to say. It was true enough at least, no point in going into details.

There was a flash of a smirk on the doctor's face, a knowing smile which briefly was a cause of concern for the soldier, but waiting out the reaction made her realize it was nothing to worry about. Another quirk perhaps of these ponies she had yet – and perhaps really needed – to figure out. Bones then turned about to Silverstar.

“Now then, what can I do you, sheriff?” Bones asked.

“Well it's... a private matter,” Silverstar said as he rubbed a hoof along his mane. The soldier could once again sense that mix of emotions directed at her.

“Oh, well, let's go find ourselves someplace to talk,” Bones said before looking back at the soldier, pointing at a canteen at the foot of her bed, “Make sure to drink plenty, I'll be back soon. Or however long this takes. In either case I'll make sure to have something for you for lunch.”

The soldier nodded, displaying no other emotion other than indifference.

“Right then,” Bones said before looking to Silverstar, “How about we use your office? I figure I'll need to stop by the bakery 'round there anyway.”

Silverstar nodded, then started to head out the door, Bones followed suit. With that done, the soldier looked over to the shelf, wondering which other books might be worth looking into. Hopefully there were some with more pictures.

Chapter 5 - The Likeness

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Chapter Five - The Likeness

The way to the sheriff's office was a mostly uneventful trip. It was filled with little more than a little gazing around the town as well as some small talk. Bones however, after years of being in this town, could see the tells of an unnerved Silverstar, and for reasons more than just the silly faux telling off from before. It was because of that, that when the two arrived in the office and the doctor had a chance to look around to see they had privacy, that Bones dove straight into the heart of the matter.

“Alright Silver, what's the matter?”

Silverstar sighed as he took a seat behind his desk, staring down at the floor for a moment.

“It's that mare, Dusty.”

Bones took up a seat of his own, opposite to Silverstar.

“What is it exactly? It got anything to do with how she supposedly took on Scornful and his gang?” Bones asked.

“No – I mean, that is part of it yes, that is something that's got a bee in my bonnet, but, well, there's something more at the core of the matter,” the sheriff admitted.

“Well, spit it out,” Bones insisted.

The sheriff bit the corner of his mouth for a moment before looking Bone's way.

“She bears an... uncanny resemblance to a mare I once knew.”

“Hm,” Bones muttered knowingly, “Colleague? Lover?”

“Those and a fresh pain in the flank,” Silverstar admitted with a haggard sigh, “Shifting Mirage, her name was. Bounty hunter that hailed from Saddle Arabia.”

“This is... I take it this was before you came to Apploosa?” Bones asked.

“Yep,” Silverstar nodded, “Back when I was still a young, restless colt full of juice and vinegar in Dodge.”

“Hm. Well, can kinda see that. I recall how you were still a little rough around the edges when you first rolled into town.”

“Yeah,” Silverstar looked down at the ground with some embarrassment.

“Still, I gotta wonder why Dusty would get you so riled up over an old face like that. You think she might be the same mare, just with an alias?”

“That's the thing doc. I know it can't be her because, well,” Silverstar huffed another breath, “She didn't exactly survive Dodge's earlier days. I... I remember putting her in the ground myself.”

That got Bone's attention for sure. His posture become a lot more straight, and his eyes went a little wider.

“Oh, well that's – goodness, I can understand why that would, well...” the doctor went on a little, trying to find the words, “Celestia, seeing that face again...”

“I thought I saw a ghost,” Silverstar put it plainly, “I wondered, what if maybe she was a relative, or if maybe she was a daughter Mirage had before comin' to Equestria, or if maybe she had really been alive all this time and had just found some way to...”

Silverstar put his hooves to his face for a moment before looking up towards Bones.

“She was amazing with tricks of light, y'know? Used her pegasi weather crafting to do stuff that seemed like something a unicorn's magic could do. I thought that maybe, maybe...”

“She wasn't really dead,” Bones completed the thought.

Silverstar hung his head low.

“Yeah. And, I thought I'd gotten over her. I mean, I remember thinkin' at the time that maybe she was playin' me, like she would do sometimes, but then I accepted it. And then I walk in to see that face and it's like... the wound never healed.”

Leaning back in the chair, Silverstar put a hoof over his chest.

“Every argument, every plan we put together, every fight, every... shared moment... it came back like a flash. Like it was just yesterday.”

Bones watched the sheriff as he stared up at the ceiling. It was hard not to feel at least some slight, small sympathy for the pony, and in the situation, Bones couldn't help but feel his heart bleed for the poor stallion.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he said, smiling wryly, “That's a hell of a feeling to have. Though, I suppose that explains a few things about you when you first came into town.”

The statement caused Silverstar to glance over to Bones with a questioning eye.

“When the old sheriff ran out and you tried your darndest to get to come back, only to eventually take the job yourself, I could tell there was something to that. I thought it was just suicidal overconfidence or maybe something else that gave you drive to think you could protect every pony here. And now...”

“Yeah,” Silverstar nodded, “I suppose that did have an effect. I really didn't want to lose another pony after that, so... well, that's how it turned out.”

There was a shared silence between the two stallions for the moment as both contemplated the heavy nature of what was just shared. Eventually, the break came though, addressing a certain necessity.

“So, what do you reckon you'll do about Dusty? Think you got the stomach to go see her again?” Bones asked.

“I reckon so, at least seeing her. I gotta see her at least. If I wanna be worthy of my job at least. She might be able to recall more eventually, maybe even...” Silverstar shook his head, “Ask her help.”

“She really shouldn't do anything for a while, but she might be able to help. Cameo seems to have exaggerated his claims somewhat, but Dusty did confirm she managed to take on three of them in a fight,” Bones spoke, a slightly impressed tinge to his tone.

“Three to one. Sounds about right.”

Bones tilted his head to the side as he considered the statement.

“Sounds like Mirage I take it?”

“She was a wild horse, for sure,” Silverstar nodded. He then stared off through the wall, down the general direction of the street to where the clinic was, “She's not the same mare, I know that, but if she truly is that capable, then, well – I'm just saying is she's anything like Mirage in terms of her combat prowess, she's gonna be a hoofful.”

Bones smiled modestly, but otherwise didn't add to the thought on Mirage. Instead, after a small silence following Silverstar's words, Bones tried to change the topic.

"How's the situation with Canterlot? Heard anything new?" Bones asked.

"Still nothing," Silverstar said as he glanced off to the side where the telegraph station was, "Not since they said they were maintaining the communication blackout."

"So, just keep waiting for someone to come along then," Bones huffed, shaking his head, "I don't get why they can't say what's happening. If it's really so important it seems like they ought to provide at least a little information."

"Yeah, quite frankly I feel like they ought to have sent someone already. It's one thing if they're worried about an interception of communications, but if they feel they can't even send a single envoy? That ain't right. I'd have half a mind to walk all the way there and demand to know what's going on that they can't allow the trains to be running for a while,” The sheriff said as he looked out the window to the train station was with the express parked right there.

“I reckon they must have a reason, they did say it was a royal decree. Still, I gotta say I agree,” Bones nodded as he followed Silverstar's line of sight, “Even if we're supposedly going to be compensated for the inconvenience, that doesn't change the fact that we've been turned upside down from this.”

“How's the supplies? You in danger of running out any time soon?” Silverstar asked as he turned his sight away from the quiet train engine.

“I've run out of my regular supplies and am currently working with my backup stash, so not entirely good on that front. Obviously it's going to depend on what happens between now and the near future, but I reckon we got about a week, if the past month has been in any way an indication. Scornful's hits really haven't helped either,” Bones muttered with some irritation, “If he has taken a hit though, hopefully he'll think twice before striking out. He's gotta lick his own wounds too after all.”

Silverstar grunted a little to himself on the thought of that. He actually quite liked the idea of the outlaw facing some strife of his own.

“So, that's... well, hopefully all will said and done by then, but do you have any plans for if we can't get supplies in by then? I'd like to think we'll be opening up travel soon, but we can't exactly afford to always count on a best-case scenario,” the sheriff cautiously inquired.

“Yeah, for all we know we'll get Trouble Shoes coming in to town to destroy half of what we've got left,” Bones sighed before lighting up his horn and, with his telekinesis pulling out a roll of paper he recognized on a nearby shelf, unfurling it to show a map of the surrounding region, pointing areas with a hoof as he spoke of them, “I'm figuring if we run out, we can try asking the folks over in Dodge if they got anything to spare, if not... It'll honestly depend. The train tracks can be followed over to Ponyville. If not that, we can at least try to follow the river to Baltimare.”

“That... would be an extravagant amount of moving,” the sheriff remarked, “Might not go to well with the order to halt transport, but if we need to go that far to get supplies, I'd consider it a good reason to bend the rules.”

“My thoughts as well,” Bones nodded.

Relaxing his telekinetic grip on the map, the paper eagerly curled back up into the roll it had been stored as.

“You were thinking about stopping by the bakery, right?” Silverstar asked.

“I certainly way, and I still certainly am,” Bones affirmed.

“Well, I think I may do my civic duty and escort you there.” Silverstar said with a smile, “I think I could go for some of Hot Cross' buns.”

Bones chuckled. That actually didn't sound bad to him at that moment either.

“I was just planning to get some bread, but that sounds good too. Maybe it'll finally get a smile on Dusty's face as well. She seems like she could do with something that could induce a smile.”

“Heh, I reckon that'll do the trick,” Silverstar nodded, “I think just the smell of those buns would put a smile on the dead.”

Bones noticed a brief slip up in Silverstar's expression after he finished that though. Perhaps the sheriff had unintentionally reminded himself of a certain painful topic.

“Indeed. Let's hope she's got a fresh batch,” Bones thought as he slid off the chair to the floor, heading for the door with the dear sheriff in tow.

Chapter 6 - The Question and the Meeting

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Chapter Six - The Question and the Meeting

After a while of working through the few books on the shelf, the soldier was pleasantly surprised to find a book that consisted almost entirely of pictures. There were words still, yes, but so much was shown through the pictures instead as well. Every page was filled with squares, rectangles, or sometimes other shapes that were filled with images which, when looked at in a sequence, seemed to tell a story. It seemed rather ingenious in a way. While a full context was still missing, the result was something that the soldier felt like she could understand. The book seemed to focus on an alicorn mare who used a disguise to appear as a stumbling earth pony. She would then get in close to an opponent and then, after discretely finding a place to to remove her disguise and put on a more intimidating appearance, trounce her enemy, which seemed to be a purple mare of some kind.

It was kind of surprising to see this sort of story. The main mare being an alicorn seemed to imply she was the “hero”, but the disguising aspect seemed unusual to have. The soldier thought, if nothing else, pony society was one which would not welcome those who deceive. Or was she maybe misreading this in some way? It was of course hard to tell. Ponies were strange. What was also strange was how this book in particular was bound together very simply, by a few tiny strips of metal punching through the paper instead of the pages being bound to a spine. It was curious that the book with the most effort put into it with all these pictures was made to be so flimsy.

Every once in a while, the soldier would make sure to make a quick survey of the area. After having those foals figurative sneak up on her, the changeling wanted to make sure she wasn't so easily caught off guard. There would be the occasional townspony walking by, their full emotional state dulled by the distance and walls in-between the changeling and them. The soldier had started to get a whiff of what was coming in through the windows though. At first, the faint smell of stress was something the soldier thought was a leftover of those who had been healing from trauma while with the doctor. The fresh smells though made it clear that, despite some of the other myriad pheromones in the air, there was an undercurrent of stress in the town – or at least in this part of town.

Looking up from the loose picture book again to sniff at the air, the soldier smelled something else. It was... that smell was sugar was it not? It did not excite her changeling taste buds, but she did recognize the sweet smell. What did excite her though was the faint warm feeling she felt closing in at the door. It felt a little familiar. Was it...

The door opened to reveal Bones carrying along a basket, pushing the door itself forward with a telekinetic push. The doctor, just like she thought. Bones leaned into the room with a grin, coming in to set down the basket at the table.

“Wound up getting a little more than expected. Hope you don't mind sharing, I'll be back in a moment,” Bones said before walking off to his desk I the main room of the clinic. Coming in soon as well was Silverstar, who gave her that strange look with that strange cocktail of emotions going through him before he followed after Bones, discussing something in hushed tones for a quick moment before both appeared in the doorway. Bones naturally took the initiative, it being his clinic after all, and stepped in, using his telekinesis to open the folds of the cloth covering the basket, revealing a still warm batch of buns flavored with cinnamon and bits of raisin. Each one was decorated with a cross of icing. The soldier eyed them tentatively.

“Well go ahead, help yourself while they're still warm,” Bones insisted.

The soldier, not sure of what else to do, since refusing food seemed likely to generate suspicion, took a bun and munched on it. She felt the soft texture of the bun, the slight granular sensation of the cinnamon and icing, and the curious sensation of how the icing itself was halfway between solid and liquid with it's current temperature. Naturally though, it didn't really excite her, or bring about any real positive reaction. It was a simple fact of her biology. Her kind didn't thrive on sugars, carbohydrates, or vitamins, so her body wasn't meant to respond positively to it. She could process the food, certainly, but nothing was gained from it. If anything was giving her a slight pick up in that moment, it was the excitement in Bone's emotions which were, unfortunately, slowly dipping down at the soldier's lack of real, positive reaction.

“It alright?” he asked, seeming a little confused.

“It is okay,” the soldier responded after swallowing a mouthful.

Something was wrong though, with a curiosity shared between sheriff and doctor, a sense that something was off. Shoot. Did she give the wrong response?

“It tastes good,” she tried. The lack of enthusiasm showed through though.

Bones and Silverstar shared a look before both took a bun of their own and took a bite. The soldier immediately felt the buzz coming off of them, like a short-lived high.

“Yeah, that is about par for what Hot Cross usually manages,” Bones said, as though he were answered some unasked question. An affirmative grunt came from Silverstar as he took another bite. Both looked her way, eyes raised. The soldier glanced between the two of them for a moment as worry built in her mind. They could clearly tell she was covering something up. Was this another thing to potentially give away what she was?

“... Not a fan of sweets?” Bones guessed.

The soldier thought on that for a moment, trying to sample the air for a bit. Bones didn't seem to have a malicious intent of trapping her in some way, nor did Silverstar. Just the mix of confusion and curiosity. With nothing else in mind to possibly work with, the soldier elected to nod.

“They're not bad. Just not a 'fan',” she affirmed. In truth she probably would have eaten a hoofful of dirt and it wouldn't matter. She didn't have the taste buds for it either way. “Thank you for bringing food.”

There was a flash of embarrassment hidden under Bone's scrutinizing look, but the doctor otherwise took it in stride.

“Well, hopefully you'll enjoy what else I brought you,” he said as he lifted up the small tin the buns were in to reveal a hay sandwich underneath with some cherry tomatoes on the side.

The soldier glanced down at the food, then back up at the doctor. She wasn't quite entirely exasperated, though there was some of that mixed in with a sense of amusement at how hard the doctor was trying to appeal to the need for nutrition. In a way, she wished she could say what she was so neither of them had to continue wasting time with this charade. But, she could not. So instead, she did what she had to to play this out. Picking up the sandwich between her hooves, she took a bit of it, and eventually some of the tomatoes.

“They taste okay.”

No sense in pretending otherwise, they could apparently see through the matters of food. There seemed to be a slight feeling of resignation on Bone's part, but also a... sense of understanding? Some sort of sense of resolving hanging questions. Something else was building though, a sense of anticipation within both stallions before her. After finishing the sandwich and trying to wash down the food from her mouth with the nearby water, Bones finally asked a question.

“So, Dusty, we were wondering something,” Bones said, breaching the silence.

The soldier glanced at Silverstar as she sensed a sudden rise of anxiety, before looking back at Bones, waiting for him to say more.

“We were wondering if you might be willing to help bring in Scornful,” he finally said, bringing a raising sense of anticipation from both himself and Silverstar, more so than even before. What was it about this topic that was so stressful?

“One of the stallions I fought in the cave Cameo was in?” she attempted to clarify.

“Yes. He's a wanted pony, been one for a while, only right he eventually have to answer for what he's done,” Bones answered with a nod.

“Wanted,” the soldier repeated back. That word. She'd found it hard to think of the word being used with the same tone being used in that moment.

“Yeah, dead or alive. Alive preferably,” Silverstar finally said, bringing himself into the conversation, “We want to make sure he gets the punishment he's due for. He's caused mayhem, stole much, hurt several innocent ponies, and even...”

The soldier wasn't sure what the last thought was suppose to be exactly, but a deep, seething anger repelled her for a moment. At the very least though, she felt like she was starting to get an understanding of some things. So that's what the 'wanted' meant. A pony who was causing discord in pony society was singled out and sought after to administer punishment to them – that made sense. It was like singling out an irregular in a hive and either correcting their deviation or removing them.

“Point is, we want to make sure he stops his ways,” Bones said after a worried look at Silverstar, “And since you've apparently managed to take him on in a fight, we figure you might be a good match for him if he gets up again. So what do you say, think you'd be willing to lend a hoof? We'll make it worth your while.”

The soldier stared down at the bed for a moment. She could probably do this, but did she have any reason to? Right now the only thing she wanted to do was a secure a route to the east, spend a little time researching a method of safe passage. She also wanted some positive emotion to sustain herself on for while she was here, which could easily do without the ponies knowing. Now that she was a little more on top of herself and not desperate she could probably plot out and more efficiently gather her reserves without an added, tremendous risk of attracting attention. That would be assuming though of course, that she could continue to blend in with these ponies, and the soldier was beginning to suspect she was testing her luck with long she'd actually be able to get away with her deception. On the other hand, it was maybe possible that following through with this request might help with such blending in. After all, if she showed she was interested in maintaining the order of pony society, it would make her look less likely like something from outside pony society. However, there was also a chance that a conflict might drain on her reserves faster, and possibly have a net zero benefit to her chances of gathering energy and looking for ways out. This was an uncertain proposition to say the least.

“You don't have to say anything now,” Silverstar said, breaking the silence that had settled since the soldier had drifted into thought, “It is tall order to ask of you after all, and you are still needing time to recover. We certainly ain't asking you to go back out into the desert this afternoon, hehe.”

The soldier – and Bones as well, she noted – looked at Silverstar curiously. For the soldier at least, it was a case of curiosity at the reaction in combination with the maelstrom of emotion within him. He seemed to be trying to put on an affectation of at least minor joviality when it was clear, even on the surface, that this was a pretense. The soldier wasn't entirely sure why such a need for such a pretense would occur, at least in a real pony, but those feelings were probably at the root of the matter.

“Time to consider this would help,” the soldier stated.

“Right then. The doc said he wanted to keep an eye on you a couple days more right? Should be enough time, especially if Scornful is needing his time,” Silverstar said while looking questioning at Bones.

Bones himself nodded before turning more fully to the sheriff.

“I reckon it'll be okay if she starts walking around tomorrow, would be good anyway to keep the body moving. She shouldn't strain herself physically though for those few other days.”

“Right,” Silverstar said before he started to head for the front door, “I'll make sure to check in later, but for now I'll see about making my rounds.”

With that, the sheriff made his way outside, going down the street. The soldier eyed him until he was out of sight, still curious about him and his odd emotions. She then directed her attention onto Bones, recalling his previous incredulous reaction.

“Is there something about him that appears unusual?” she asked. If nothing else, and it was not what she had observed, it might be something she could learn from.

“You could say that,” Bones confirmed before focusing on the the soldier, discomfort clear on his face, “It... has to deal with someone in his past. You seem to remind him of someone he knew.”

The mare from the photograph, no doubt.

“He had mentioned that when he first visited me,” the soldier explained.

“Did he now? Don't suppose he mentioned the details about that?” Bones asked.

The soldier shook her head.

“I see...” Bones muttered, eyes looking down to the floor for a moment before reconnecting eyes with the soldier, “Well, don't worry too much about it. Ain't your fault for resembling someone else.”

It was her fault actually, a fault the soldier was regretting for this reaction it was bringing about. Perhaps she really should have tried for other aspects of change in appearance. Then again, she hadn't really retained much memory of specific pony shapes, so for all she knew she might have created some erroneous shapes if she tried to be any more “creative” than she had before. Bones, seeming to try to change the subject again, glanced down at the table, noticing the flimsy book.

“Ah, I didn't know I had a comic in there,” he remarked, levitating it up and looking it over for a moment, chuckling before setting it down, “Must have been donated by a foal. Like comics, do ya?”

Comic. She had a proper name for the object at least.

“I like the pictures.”

A somewhat repetitive response with how she had remarked about the previous book, but it was the truth, and it seemed to be evident that providing little bits of the truth were becoming necessary to blend in. Bones raised an eye at that, a little less amused and knowing compared to last time, but he didn't seem interested in pursuing it otherwise.

“Well, I'll leave you to some resting. I'll try to bring in dinner later.”

More useless food. At least she seemed convincing enough that she seemed to need the stuff in the doctor's eyes. With a slight nod, the soldier laid her head down as the doctor headed out to fulfill his own role.

Nothing else really happened for a long time. The soldier merely spent her time mostly in a sedentary manner. Not needing to move was good in that it gave her a chance to rest after being out in the desert. It left her with a sense of restlessness though with her thoughts. She had think of what to do next. In a way she kind of missed how “Go east” was the only directive she had to follow, even though it was during a dire state – naturally she didn't miss near starvation. It was simple, but at least it didn't require as much thought to figure on, and it was something she felt she understood a little better, which was navigation back to her home. Her goal had still not changed, but she still had to process more information, and in areas involving subjects she was very much not used to. The thought of indulging the easy option was tempting. Just drain a few ponies and keep heading east without further worry. It wouldn't require much thought, or effort – aside from the hunting of ponies of course. That could be made easily done though, with her own shapeshifting and a little reconnaissance. When she thought about it though, that could also be an opportunity to research about the area ahead, better find a way to follow her plan to head east. Perhaps that would help, yes – do the research. If she had an easy way out, she could follow that. But how –

The soldier found her thought process interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Her own room had been closed to prevent anymore unwarranted visitors, but with some focus, the soldier realized she recognized at least two voices speaking to the doctor, along with two unfamiliar ones. The soldier strained her ears to attempt to listen in on what was being said exactly.

“... not exactly the most excitable, so forgive her if she seems underwhelmed or uncaring about what you say. I'm starting to think it may be part of her personality and not just from being out in the desert for days on end, but I guess we'll see,” she heard Bone's voice say.

“That's fine,” an older, female voice spoke, “It's worth the saying all the same.”

“It's okay to see her then?” one of the familiar, older male voices said. The soldier wasn't sure what it reminded her of though.

“Certainly, just don't crowd her – basic manners.”

With that there was a sudden patter of hooves on the ground, and a little stamping at the door. The soldier found herself leaning back from it a little.

“Can't reach it,” Cameo's voice whined.

“Patience is a virtue, young colt, I recommend you keep that in mind,” an unfamiliar male voice spoke.

“C'mon dad...”

“Your father has a point you know,” the female voice said teasingly.

Soon, the door was opened, the soldier catching a slight hint of telekinetic magic around the handle before it faded. Cameo came bounding in and close to the soldier.

“Hey there Dusty, how are you doing?” he asked with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.

Sampling the emotion in the air though, the soldier could tell that it was genuine in both energy and concern.

“I am fine. I have been resting,” she answered in her usual deadpan.

The soldier then turned her attention up to where she sensed a great deal of gratitude, as well as some feeling of concern. Not all of the concern was directed her way, she noticed. A yellow and red mare who had colors reminiscent of what was seen in Cameo. In turn there was a green and white stallion standing by her. Still near them, but some distant from them was a stallion the soldier recognized, that yellow coated one with the hat who stopped her when she first came into town.

“Hello there... Dusty, right?” the mare asked, “We're Cameo's parents. We wanted to thank you so much for what you did to help our little foal get back home and away from those... brutes.”

“Yes, we were worried, truly, about what would happen,” the white stallion said. Interestingly, even though he spoke more stoically, the soldier could detect a lot more worry underneath, similar to the mare's level of expression, “You have no idea how much it means to us to have him back.”

The soldier could actually, at least a little, but she wasn't going to share that.

“I'm grateful as well,” the familiar stallion finally said, offering a smile, “If you need a place to stay after you're done here, my door is open to ya'.”

“I see, okay,” the soldier said at first. When she sensed a certain buildup of pressure from her brief response, she expanded it, “Thank you very much.”

There was another build up of discomfort in the air, but the unknown stallion seemed to desire to break the awkward silence first.

“Well, where are my manners? We seem to have you at a disadvantage, Miss Dusty,” he started to say.

Disadvantage, the soldier wondered, how?

“My name is Water Chestnut,” he said with a slight bow of his head, “And this here fine mare is my wife.”

The mare smirked at Water Chestnut, some amusement rolling off her for a moment before she turned her attention back onto Dusty.

“My name is Cinnamon Cider, and my husband thinks flattery wins him points,” she remarked, causing the stallion in question to avert his eyes from anyone else in the group for a moment. Some embarrassment seemed to hint why, “And of course you've met our son Cameo.”

The soldier look down at the colt in question, who stood up a little straighter as he was brought briefly into the spotlight.

“And the one who has so generously offered up his home is my nephew,” Cinnamon explained as she glanced his way.

“Ma'am,” the stallion said with a slight tip of the hat, “Name's Braeburn. I uh, believe we met for a brief moment yesterday?”

The soldier merely nodded. No point in challenging the claim, though she wasn't sure why the stallion brought the matter up. Internally though, she was smiling because one key thing had been brought to the forefront of her mind. This concerned stallion was making an offer for her to stay with him in his home. Such an occurrence was a very serendipitous event to have presented to her. She could feed on him for sure.

“He's been letting us stay at his place for a while,” Chestnut explained, “Been sticking around a little longer than expected with the trains out of service.”

Trains... those were the transport machines that went along preset tracks. The soldier remembered riding some during the course of her disguised journey across the pony lands to engage in the invasion.

“Out of service?” she asked. She didn't recall that sort of phrase being heavily associated with the machines.

“Y'havn't heard?” the mare asked. A cough from Bones reminded Cinnamon though of why, “Oh, right, right, you wouldn't have heard. Well, apparently something big went down in Canterlot a few days ago, enough that they needed to shut the trains down. Not sure why, but it's a royal decree, supposedly.”

“Mhm,” Bones said, stepping forward, “They sad they'd send out someone to explain and give directions about whatever is going on, but we haven't heard anything in a while.

The battle at Canterlot, indubitably. The shut down of the transport – no doubt intended to lock down populaces so they couldn't move too much, and in turn, prevent other changelings from moving about without going out into the wilderness by themselves, which would put themselves at risk. And 'sending someone out', no doubt they would be doing so in an attempt to ferret out more disguised changelings and warn the populace without directly tipping off changelings. After all, something that had been distributed quickly through the hive was that one of the Harmony ponies had developed a counter to the disguise changelings were capable of. If that skill was distributed widely enough, the majority of the pony population would then be effectively 'vaccinated' against changeling infiltration.

Which meant that the soldier's days in this town were numbered. If she didn't get out by the time this representative of Canterlot showed up, she would most certainly be doomed. What was she to do about that though? Did they maybe...?

“Do you know when they might show up, and have the trains running again?” the soldier asked.

There was a collective shrug throughout the room that converged onto Bones, who seemed trusted by most ponies in the room to know what was happening.

“No idea. They said they'd send out some pony in a couple days, but that was when this first started. Some pony should have showed up by now.”

Indefinite arrival date, but supposedly they would have showed up by now. They were delayed somehow? That didn't mean they wouldn't arrive extremely late though. For all the soldier knew, they were approaching tomorrow. They could be approaching this night. It was an astounding credit to the soldier's capability at maintaining camouflage that she was not visibly panicking. If she could have afforded to exclaim then and there with fright though, she would have done so without question.

“I see,” she stated with underwhelming calm.

“Ain't all bad though, it's given me more time to hang with Braeburn,” Cameo piped up, “He can be a lot of fun to play with. Like, there's a whole bunch of games they play out here I usually don't get the chance to try 'cause Baltimare is boring like that. It's a lot more exciting out here.”

There was an amused snort from Water Chestnut, and a somewhat less amused roll of the eyes form Cinnamon Cider. Bones held a hoof to his face and just shook his head for a moment. Braeburn, despite looking sheepish for a moment, spoke up next.

“Young colt, just because you think it's exciting doesn't mean it's good living for a foal like yourself. You gotta respect the conditions you live in – if you're not careful you're liable to find yourself in a heap of trouble. Which you did by the way. You really didn't need to egg on Scornful like ya did when he hauled off with ya,” the stallion warned his cousin.

“Well... yeah, okay, I shouldn't have done that, but it worked out in the end, Dusty saved me, and pretty darn well” the colt said before beaming up at the soldier, as though hoping for approval of some kind.

The soldier however, had enough sense to know that agreeing with the kid was not wise. For one, the colt's comment was running counter to the running opinion in the room. Secondly, there was just the simple fact of something else that the soldier knew was true.

“Your release from Scornful was entirely dependent on a rescue from someone you could not have anticipated being nearby. Continuing to function under the expectation that you can escape or overcome dangerous situations because of unknowns working in your favor by chance is extremely unwise,” the soldier explained boredly.

“Or in other words,” Braeburn said as he came up next to Cameo and gave him a poke in the flank, “Don't press your luck, squirt.”

Cameo grumbled and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Cinnamon Cider gave him a quick pat on the head.

“Trust me sweety, you'll eventually realize that you're getting sound advice here, and you'll yearn for the days of when things were boring,” she said with a slight smile.

“Yes, and you'll have child just like you,” Water Chestnut added with a smirk, “Who will give you the same worries. But you'll love 'em anyway.”

The two parents hugged their foal, who reluctantly accepted the attention, at least on the surface. The soldier could feel something more in him that appreciated the contact.

“Yeah, yeah...” the colt said dismissively.

After the moment was given a chance to pass, Cinnamon Cider took the chance to speak up.

“Well, we should probably get going. See you later Miss Dusty, it was nice to meet you.”

“Same,”

“Me too!”

Braeburn merely smiled with a nod of his head in agreement after Water Chestnut and Cameo. The soldier however, was thinking quickly about how to best use the situation. The messenger from Canterlot was bound to come sooner or later, and she needed to hightail it out of there.

“Would it be okay if I took the offer to stay at Braeburn's now?” she asked.

The words earned a collective curious look, especially from Bones for some reason. The soldier held her figurative breath as she wondered if she committed a faux pas somehow.

“Um, well I wouldn't mind putting up another guest. I just, uh...” Braeburn looked questioningly at Bones, “I mean, she's supposed to rest here isn't she?”

“Well, I'd think so, but she has been doing fairly well,” Bones figured, scratching at the scruff on his muzzle for a moment as he considered the idea, “I suppose it wouldn't be out of the question. Maybe a welcome, family environment would help her.”

The soldier had to admit actually, the ambiance of a connected group like this was nice to her. And if she could just be alone with Braeburn or perhaps Water Chestnut for a moment...

“Sounds like you're welcome, Dusty,” Chestnut himself said, showing his own approval of the idea.

“I certainly wouldn't mind having a seasoned soldier nearby in case something happens in the night,” Cinnamon Cider said pleasantly, half-jokingly.

“Very well then. Just give me a moment to prepare a container for some vitamins for Dusty, and she should be good to go,” Bones said, heading off to fill out what he had in mind.

The soldier said nothing, instead briefly looking between Chestnut and Braeburn for a moment as she considered what sort of nutrition she'd need before she left this place for good.

Chapter 7 - The Escape

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Chapter Seven – The Escape

Braeburn's residence turned out to be an amiable place, though that didn't matter too much to the soldier, she had no intention of sticking around soon. So instead, she just decided to sit and eventually lay down for a bit, claiming a need for the rest that the doctor has prescribed for her before. It gave her a chance to observe where everyone was, seeing some of the family dynamic, and ultimately helping the changeling to mark her most appropriate prey. By the time night was officially rolling around, it was clear that the main unit that consisted of Cinnamon Cider, Water Chestnut, and Cameo, would be inadvisable to try to go for, since they would all be in one room while they slept, which increased the likelihood of being spotted while the soldier fed. It was a shame because the love held between Cinnamon and Chestnut was so sweet, so tantalizing – it would certainly last the soldier for a while if she fed upon that. However, the risk was just too high. She might have been in a hurry, but that didn't mean she should do something stupid. So, that left Braeburn.

Eventually, the core family went to bed, the soldier keeping an ear open to make sure they were asleep before she decided to finally go after her target. Opening and closing the door to his bedroom with equal amounts of extreme discretion, she slunk up to where the stallion was resting on his bed. The moon illuminated his nightstand, showing where he'd set his hat. His vest had been haphazardly tossed onto a chest at the foot of the bed – clearly viewable to the changeling's eyes. That wasn't the only thing though. As she quietly walked about, the soldier glanced at a dresser, seeing photographs. A few were of Braeburn, usually with other ponies. One in particular that stood was one of him looking a little younger, right on the verge of adulthood, standing by two other, older ponies with a filly at their hooves. The environment, curiously, was not like the surroundings of Apploosa, but of a metropolitan city. Looking at some of the other pictures, the soldier noticed that there was another picture which showed those three unknown ponies by themselves, the filly looking just a bit older. There were other ponies in other pictures a well, including one which was a chilling reminder of what the soldier needed to flee. A mare wearing a hat matching the style of the area, with her hair tied at the end, and a mark consisting of three apples on her flank. One of the Harmony ponies. The soldier looked from that picture to Braeburn. When she thought about it, the resemblance was close. She wondered what connection they had precisely for a moment before deciding that it was a waste of her time to think on such things for long. She couldn't afford to wonder, to think. She needed to feed and get out of here. Anything else was a distraction.

Stepping forward, looking over the stallion she had come for, an unfortunate creak sounded as she started to lean forward. Her horn, which she had started to extend, retreated quickly back into her head as she noticed Braeburn's eyes quickly fluttering open. The soldiers heart pounded as she wondered if she had been found out, if he had seen it...

“... Dusty?” he mumbled sleepily, looking up at her.

The soldier was truly uncertain of what to say or do, and remained frozen as she attempted to rethink what to do.

“Are you alright? Something wrong?” he said as rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, becoming a little more alert.

“I could not sleep,” she immediately responded. It seemed reasonable in the moment, but then she realized her blunder, how that didn't really explain her being here, and she then spoke off in rapid succession “I am sorry for waking you. I'm not sure why I did so. I believe the lack of sleep has negatively effected me. I should go.”

“It's alright, nothing to fuss about, I don't mind. I'm just glad it's not Cameo making another great escape,” Braeburn said with a haggard laugh that was part amusement, part relief.

The amiable response was not what the soldier expected for sure. She had felt so tense that she thought for sure this could not end well. Yet here the stallion was, no anger or suspicion of her.

“C'mon, have a seat, there must be something on your mind, right?” he said, patting a hoof on the bed.

It was genuine, a genuine offer, a genuine sense of concern. And feeling that directed at her, the soldier could feel a little bit of a tingle within her. A little bit of that sustenance like with Cameo. Not a lot compared to a feeding, but it was there. After a brief moment of wondering whether it was a good idea or not, the soldier decided to accept the offer, sitting by Braeburn's side.

“I've been thinking,” she stated.

A generic statement, but a true one.

“What about?” Braeburn asked.

The uncomfortable part. She obviously could not afford to tell the truth, but the alternative was not so attractive either. Ponies seemed to have an uncanny knack for being able to tell the truth at times.

“About whether I should stay here,” the soldier admitted.

“Well that's... gosh. Well I guess I can see how that would have the sort of thing in mind to keep some pony awake. Yer seriously considering leaving?”

There was a tinge of negativity in the concern now. What was the word... resentment? The soldier eyed Braeburn warily.

“I am considering it, yes,” she confirmed.

That negativity flared up in Braeburn, not just internally, but externally. His face contorted into a slight warp of disgust. At the same time though, there was something else.

“Y-you're serious?” Braeburn asked, rather needless the soldier thought. She had already answered the question after all, “Look, I get you ain't exactly had the best time around here so far, but do you think you could at least stick around long enough to help us out with our Scornful problem? I mean, it's not like you got to go anywhere else, right?”

East, or really anywhere else but here. Not that Braeburn needed to know that. This conversation shouldn't even be happening. Why did she have to screw up on that one squeaky board? Why couldn't she have just gone in and tried to force feed from Braeburn? This was probably the one time she could have afforded to be reckless, at least that's how it had been feeling in hindsight. She could maybe try that now, but with the feelings filling Braeburn now... all she had done was poison her own meal with her attempt to put on enough honesty to pass by.

“So what's the deal then? Do you not want to be beholden to us?” Braeburn asked, “Look, I know trying to get in a fight ain't always the best thing, but we could really use all the help we can get. Do you just not want to fight? Is that it?”

Not fight? No... it was the opposite. The soldier was in her element in a fight. Nothing would help her feel more whole than to fight under the orders of the hive again. Fighting against other ponies for ponies could probably even be a decent substitute for that, but this situation just didn't allow for that sort of room. She had to leave, stay out of the way of the watchful eye of the coming vanguards of the alicorn princesses.

“Well? Can you tell me?” Braeburn continued on, desperation in his voice, and his heart, “Please, give me something to work with.”

The soldier watched as Braeburn came closer on the bed. She didn't budge, but she watched him like a hawk. She wondered if maybe it would be worth pulling out what little she could and running. She'd be getting at least a little something, even if it wasn't what she had been hoping for.

“I don't belong here,” she stated.

Truth, without revealing too much. Probably all she could do. The emotions swirled about in Braeburn as he tried to come up with a proper response to such words.

“Well that's, that's just – you can belong here if you try, if you want to Dusty. Trust me you've already scored plenty o' points by rescuing Cameo and giving Scornful a kick in the flank. There's gotta be more to than that, right?”

Getting as close as he was, the soldier was starting to find it difficult to continue looking the stallion in the eye. It was hard, with those big, open eyes. It as though he could see through her, as though that eye contact were what was helping him so uncannily figure out that something was amiss. And the thing was, in the end, despite the tingling sensation this attempt to reach out was having, it was for naught as far as the changeling was concerned. Right now she was more concerned with leaving. At the moment she started to wonder if maybe it was possible to return him back to a more amiable, nutritious state, but that was going to take more effort and time, and it seemed like the only thing that would help was if she said she would stay, except there was the issue of the honesty. Why couldn't these ponies be more gullible? Just a little more, and that would be well enough for her. It would have made this whole process all the easier for her. Then again, the soldier supposed that was all the more reason why the infiltrator role required as much specialty as it did.

“Dusty, if we're that unbearable, you can say so, just... please, stick around long enough to help us. I know we're all ready to compensate ya for the help. If you want to go somewhere else, that's fine, just... Well, you asked to come stay here for the night, right? For a reason?”

Still reaching, still trying to bargain. The soldier looked up, tried to think of a way to explain around this, tried to meet Braeburn's eyes.

“I needed something,” she vaguely answered.

“And what's that?”

For a brief moment, Braeburn thought he saw a return of that look he saw in the soldiers eyes when she first same to town. Almost like a predator, a look that didn't quite fit on a pony's face. The soldier reached in, Braeburn freezing in place as she embraced him, her horn sprouting once more, out of the stallion's sight.

“D-Dusty?” he asked hesitantly, bring his own front hooves up, uncertain of if he should hold her or push her away.

The soldier worked her changeling magic, the glowing green tracing from her horn to Braeburn, enveloping around his forehead, his eyes struggling as his head received the light bit of scrambling and prodding needed to get the best feeding, and leave his memory a little off the hook. The soldier smacked her lips a little as she started to digest the feelings. Some of the bad, the desperation, the anger, tinged the emotions bitterly. The rest though, the concern for the community for his family. That love for the family in particular... The soldier couldn't help but pause for a moment as she felt Braeburn slump onto her, some of his ambient emotions still flowing off him. Processing the emotions was difficult for her, especially with much more in control she was in the situation, relatively speaking. She'd been used to just feeding on processed nectar most of her life. She'd consume emotions directly sometimes but that had only been out an occasional necessity. It was strange, feeling the sensations go through her. Not just a taste, but a full consumption.

She needed to leave. She was done here.

Slipping away from Braeburn, she got off the bed, making a few steps for the door before looking back, seeing the Stallion slumping forward awkwardly to the foot of the bed. He certainly didn't look that way when she came in. Going back around, she pushed the unconscious Braeburn around, trying to get him into a more natural looking position, or at least as much as she was able to figure looked normal. Stepping back, feeling at last satisfied with the position she had left the stallion in, the soldier went out the door, and finally to the outdoors proper, leaving Braeburn's home behind. East... The soldier looked off briefly in the direction of where the sun had disappeared a few hours. All she had to do was go in the opposing direction. Simple enough. Except – wait. That smell...

The young colt, Cameo. Fear. Determination. Why was it fresh here, outside? Reluctantly, the soldier returned to the house, hoping her fears were not about to be confirmed. Looking at what she saw though, could only do that. The window was open by a bare crack, a barrel moved into place in such a way that hinted at the colt trying to have a way to close the window despite his short height. And looking inside... Cinnamon Cider and Water Chestnut were there, sleeping contentedly in their bed. Cinnamon was holding a pillow that the soldier knew should be Cameo, based on her last look in their room before bed time. The soldiers teeth clenched tightly, baring them as they ground together. She did not need this. The outlaws could potentially be blamed for a kidnapping, but she could as well. She didn't know how much scrambling occurred in the ponies head with her feeding, but she still risked something being remembered of her this night with Braeburn.

Idiot foal... she thought to herself, scuffing up the ground a little with a hoof as she tried to channel her aggression. She wasn't sure what the colt might be doing, but she couldn't risk him going off and doing something dangerous. True, the ponies might be interested in tracking her either way, but with suspicion of kidnapping off her and the outlaws still being an issue she had a better chance of continuing her journey unharassed.

Closing her eyes for a moment, the soldier focused her thoughts, took a breath. She imagined a coordinator, giving her a new order. Locate the colt Cameo. Return him to the Braeburn residence. Continue to fall back to the original colony. More orders will come as necessary.

There. The soldier opened her eyes, feeling a little refreshed, a little more ready to do what she needed to do. Holding her nose to the ground, she followed the scent of what the foal had left behind. Trekking out, she tried to think about when the colt might have left. With the scent as fresh as it was, she suspected it had been no more than an hour, which meant she probably had a decent chance of finding him and bringing him back before the sun rose again. His scent however, was starting to head back out into the wilderness. The soldier shook her head. She did not need this to go on longer and into potentially dangerous places. The area was thankfully sparse with vegetation, but there were still plenty of rocks and rolling hills that would keep this search from being easy. The soldier flexed her wings, trying to roll the joints they were on. Still hurt. However, if there was a chance she could focus her current emotional stores into repairing them... would that be worth it?

She would be placing herself at risk again. Concentrating on what she had residing in her, she figured she would only have enough for a few days travel if she gave herself a bare minimum regeneration on her wings. However unattractive that prospect might be though, she was hoping to get out of here soon. But if she just wasted her energy on such an act, she risked going through a similar scenario as what brought her to this town. And she had been downright lucky in that situation, she was at least aware of that much. Looking up at the moon in the sky, the soldier tried to do another quick thought of how much time was left. Perhaps if she went on hoof for a while, and then went to flying if that didn't work. Yes, that made sense. A compromise between the ideas.

As she continued on though, the soldier found herself starting to find the idea of using wings more attractive. While her eyes were more than adequate in the low-light illumination of the moon, it didn't stop her from the occasional stumble. And as she followed the scent trail, she realized the colt must have had the same problem. Every once in a while, she picked up a shot of fear in the trail, no doubt cause from the sudden loss of hooving. She was at least glad that did happen though, as it made the scent he left behind more potent when it happened. And additionally, thankfully, there came a point where she finally found the colt. Finally.

Cameo was walking about near a tall, dead-looking tree. He would occasionally stomp the ground, look around some more – quite slowly the soldier noticed. Judging from how he was leering, it seemed evident that it was because of the low-light conditions. Once again, the soldier felt grateful for the gifts of her race, stepping forward and speaking to the colt in a cold tone that held a slight air of menace to it in just how controlled her voice was.

“You shouldn't be out here.”

Cameo jumped and whipped around, a fresh wave of fear rolling off of him. He looked ready to fight for a moment until he saw who the speaker addressing him was.

“Oh, uh, hey Dusty,” the colt said sheepishly, “I uh, I just wanted to make sure this was really here,”

The soldier leered down at Cameo. She didn't seem to blink either, which was creepy.

“I, uh, I heard them outlaws talking about this place, and thought, well, wouldn't it be cool if I found their stash, and showed it off to everyone back in town?” he tried to explain.

“Why didn't you tell an adult about this so they could verify it themselves?” the soldier asked.

“Well, I, well... I thought it might be nice to kinda be the one to do somethin' heroic, and... uh...”

“You don't benefit your community by hiding information. Giving how important you are to your family,” she certainly knew Braeburn cared immensely from her feeding. And the parents, while experienced indirectly, definitely held a tremendous investment in the young colt, “You only serve to put yourself at tremendous risk while generating worry in them. Come, let's get you back to Apploosa.”

“But, but, I mean we're already here, can't we look around?”

The smell of Cameo was here of course, and in turn there were a few traces of other ponies. They had been here a while ago, in the past few hours, likely. So this place might be a possible hidden area. However, that was besides the point. The soldier was more concerned with the fact that this colt had just risked making her a suspect and needed to get him home before it was too late.

“No. I am taking you back to Braeburn's,” she stated, making it quite clear this was not up for debate, “If this place is as important as you say it is, you can tell one of the adults back in Apploosa about it and they can handle it.”

“But...”

The soldier tired of arguing with Cameo, and so instead just glared at him, the moon's pale light reflecting off her eyes, waiting and watching as his sense of objection seemed to die out under the intense scrutiny,

“Okay...”

“Follow me,” the soldier instructed.

Cameo quickly fell in next to the soldier, looking down at the ground. Resentment, disappointment – bitter tastes, but the soldier would tolerate them. There was also a stress and surprise that was in the air though, which made sense for when she first came up on him, but for some reason this one was... The soldier stopped in placed. Cameo looked up at her, a little confused, though she also detected a little bit of hope in him.

“Uh, did you change your – “

The colt didn't have long to ask before the soldier placed a hoof over his mouth.

“Be silent,” she quietly hissed.

That scent she had detected just now, that wasn't Cameo. It was coming from upwind. If this place really was a location the outlaws used to stash things, then...

“You have trouble walking in this area, correct?” the soldier asked, trying to keep voice low still. It was probably the only time she wished a pony could interpret the non-verbal communication abilities a changeling could possess. Anyone with a good enough sense of hearing could compromise a potential plan.

“I've... probably tripped on a few rocks...” Cameo admitted. The fear starting to roll off of him showed he at least was getting a small sense of the danger that had to be at hand for the soldier to be talking in tones as hushed as she was.

“Get on my back,” she said, laying low to the ground for a moment.

Cameo did as he was ordered to without complaint. The soldier rose back up without too much trouble – she had something in her figurative belly, and she was used to needing to carry fully grown changelings who might be injured, so this was an easy effort. Her wings protested a little from the weight, she could afford to ignore that. In fact, the soldier started to think that maybe the wing regeneration wouldn't be such a bad idea to implement. It all depended on how much this situation swung into a confrontational direction.

“What's going on Dusty?” Cameo asked.

“Be silent,” the soldier again insisted.

Walking forward, trying to make her way over the rough terrain, the soldier aimed for reaching some high ground in hopes that she could survey the area at least a little bit, maybe see if she could catch sight of anyone who might be watching them. Her ears flicked as she tried to pick out sounds, signs of movement. Her empathic abilities opened up more as she tried to figure if there was any pony around who might give away where they were, and potentially what they were planning.

Noticing some movement to her left, the soldier focused her senses that way. More rocks. Several large rocks big enough to obscure hiding ponies. And as her emotion sensing extended that way, the soldier realized that it was obscuring hostile ponies. Internally, the soldier started to cycle some energy through her system, into her wings. Long term survival was going down, but right now a short term solution was going to mean more.

“I'm afraid I can't let you leave, missy,” a voice shouted in the distance.

The soldier looked to the source, a stallion standing on a hill to her right. It wasn't Scornful, but he didn't look any more friendlier. Cameo looked over fearfully at the stallion, who was at that very moment strutting down to them like he owned them.

“So how about this, you don't resist, and I won't have to hurt ya, that sounds reasonable don't it?” he asked.

“D-don't think you can act so tough! Dusty here managed to take Scornful and two of his flunkies without any trouble, she can handle you!” Cameo stated, trying to put on some bravado.

“Oh really? Well, I wouldn't mind a little one-on-one to see just how well I can do. What do you say, darling? I think I could do with a little challenge. Why, as a matter of fact, I'll have you know I was quite the prize fighter in my prime. I could get get out eight kicks in under a second. River Reed the Rapid, they'd call me,” the stallion boasted.

He was stalling. She could tell not only from a skimming of his now observable thoughts, but because of the two presences approaching her from behind. The ponies who had been hiding behind the rock were trying to sneak up on her it seemed, or failing that, were looking to flank her between Reed and themselves

“No,” the soldier stated.

“Aw, come on missy, what's the matter? Are you chicken?” Reed smirked.

“No. I am a soldier. And I have no intention of losing my life needlessly to an ambush,” she stated.

“W-what?” Cameo stuttered.

“Behind us,” the soldier stated.

Cameo looked back to see what the soldier could sense, two surprised ponies, one a pegasus and the other a unicorn.

“Well damn, you must have some good ears on you... Dusty, was it?” Reed asked, genuinely surprised and impressed himself.

The soldier continued to walk back in the direction of Apploosa, backing up slowly to avoid tripping while still keeping an eye on all the ponies concerned here.

“I am Dusty, yes.”

At the moment, the soldier was glad that she had at least started to regenerate their wings a little before this started, though she was really wishing she had thought to do so even sooner. She would be well out of here. Unfortunately, that pegasus might be some trouble. She was already thinking of chasing after her, the soldier could tell.

“Usually Whisper and Cirrus here manage to get by anywhere undetected, even in daylight... A soldier huh? Special forces?” Reed went on.

If this could be kept up, maybe she could get her wings regenerated before he finished talking. At least she'd only need to worry about one pony in that case.

“I defend where I'm needed. I attack where I'm needed. That's all there is to it,” the soldier stated as she continued to back up.
` “So modest. How about we stop this little game of slow retreat and have an actual discussion? Maybe about an employment opportunity. You're not from Apploosa, aren't you? You don't got the accent for it,” Reed said, cocking his head to the side.

“I am from far away,” the soldier nodded.

“Yer not gonna side with them are ya?!” Cameo exclaimed.

“Be silent!” she sharply commanded, giving the colt on her back an equally sharp glare.

“Y'better listen to her colt, the adults are talking,” Reed said with a smirk, looking a little over the soldier as he did so, “Far away. Alright. How far?”

“Further than you know.”

“That so? Alright, mare of mystery, if that's how you want to play it, fine,” Reed shrugged before looking over at the unicorn. “Say, Whisper, how about shedding a little light on this situation now that we're all out in the open? I'd like to know our potential employee's face.”

The unicorn raised his head up, the tip of his horn illuminating, softly at first, before expanding to light up the area. As the light reached the soldiers face, her eyes twitched a little as they adjusted to the higher light levels from the magic while still being able to pierce the natural darkness. Looking at Reed though, it became evident that the soldier's eyes weren't the only ones that needed help with adjustment. A cold array of emotions diffused from Reed as the corners of his mouth pulled back, jaw hanging slightly open. Confusion. Surprise. Terror.

“You...” he muttered, “You're – you're not...”

“Reed?” Whisper spoke up, the white unicorn looking with confusion at the earth pony in question. The pegasus was also looking over questioning at Reed. Neither seemed to share that sense of suprise, that chill. Nor that growing sense of anger that the soldier felt.

“Shut it!” Reed snapped at Whisper before looking back at the soldier, “You – you're dead. I know you're dead, I killed you myself!”

The mare she based her appearance on.

“You're mistaking me for someone else,” the soldier stated, hoping it would dissuade the earth pony. It did no such thing.

“Don't try to play me – I don't know if you're some damn ghost escaped from Tartarus or what, but rest assured, I am not letting you go alive, Mirage!”

Reed lept at the soldier, springing with a surprising speed. Thankfully though, the soldier was beginning to anticipate the action as well, and sidestepped the attempted tackle before taking off, at least as quickly as she could given the terrain. Now of all times, she really needed her wings ready to fly.

“Get her!” Reed shouted, the other two outlaws pursuing immediately.

Thankfully, not needing a light made it easy to run through the rocks despite the darkness, though the soldier still encountered her stumbles, but kept pushing on. Unfortunately, a tackle from a certain pegasus meant that such a run was meaningless. Cameo fell to the ground as the soldier dealt with being rolled around and struck repeatedly by Cirrus. The soldier cursed the soft exterior these ponies had and she needed to adopt.

“Dusty!” Cameo cried out, starting to come over to fighting.

“Get back to Apploosa, I'll hold them off,” the soldier ordered as she delivered a hit to Cirrus, knocking her away. Not having to defend the colt would make this significantly easier.

“But – “

“Do as I say!”

Cameo hesitated for a moment, but eventually started to head off.

“If you're planning on waiting out for reinforcements, think again!” Reed shouted as he came forward with a another charge. Unlike last time though he didn't blindly tackle, and managed to land a few hits in before the soldier backed away, “We got you outnumbered. Cirrus, go catch that kid!”

Just as the pegasus started to take off, the soldier flexed her own wings and charged for Cirrus. As long as the foal made it back, that would be fine. She could afford to take on some ponies long enough for that to happen. Cirrus cried out in pain as the soldier slammed her into the ground before quickly delivering a kick behind her to Whisper. The soldier breathed heavily though as pain lanced up through wings. They were freshly rejuvenated and still needed more time to be properly stretch out and function. The soldier grimaced, but pulled the corner of her mouth out longer into a snarl.

“Figures, you were a hard one to put down after all,” Reed commented before delivering a another kick that the soldier just barely dodged.

The soldier briefly leaned back before delivering her own strike, which the earth pony seemed to have a enough sense to stay well away from. Two hostile presences signaled an attack from Whisper and Cirrus incoming. The soldier managed to avoid a telekinetic throw of some rocks, but was still struck hard by Cirrus, sending the soldier off the side, stumbling over in the dirt for a moment into the ground. She tried to get back up, but even her legs were hurting now.

“Still mortal though. Still beatable. And I will make sure it takes this time,” Reed said as he came up on her.

The soldier glared at Reed as he approached, the other two closing in beside him. She hated this situation. If she were with the hive they'd be able to swarm over these damn ponies without a problem. As it was though, she was alone. Alone and in this soft pony form. If she was in her natural form, the natural chitin plating would dull some hits. She wouldn't have the gradual drain of her disguise sipping off her energy. And it was bad enough she still needed time to get her wings to work. Finally getting up on her legs, she glared defiantly at the approaching earth pony. Damn the charade. These ponies were the equivalent of irregulars, what did it matter if her nature was opened to them.

A curved, black horn sprouted from the soldier's head, gradually coming out and glistening in the light of night like some fang.

“What – what in Tartarus...” Reed gasped, actually backing up. The feelings he had experienced before upon seeing “Dusty's” face were coming back with a vengeance, “What are you?!”

A flash of green spread down the horn and over the form of the apparent pegasus the soldier had disguised herself as, seeming to burn away the pony form to reveal the insect/equine hybrid shape underneath. Once feathered wings spread into transparent insect ones.

“I am a soldier,” she stated, the reverberating rasp of her changeling voice cutting through the air.

“She – she's some kinda demon!” Cirrus uttered.

“Kill it, kill it, kill it!” Reed cried out, almost on the verge of screaming.

As all three went in for the strike, filled with a primal fear of what they beheld, the soldier felt her mind spark and go into overdrive, the world seeming to slow down around her like in the cave with Scornful. Reed appeared a little old, but it was clear he still had the constitution of his particular pony race. He would last the longest. The unicorn was panicked now, but could easily come to his sense after the initial panic was over. His telekinesis made him a risk that would need to be taken care of first. After that, the pegasus would be a good second target. Her maneuverability was an advantage the enemy did not need.

The world returned to normal. The soldier shot up directly, forcing her wings to work despite their protests, before zipping directly down at the unicorn, striking them in the back with a kick, sending him collapsing to the ground. Still awake though. Leaping off to the side, she tried to draw the other ponies' attention away from the unicorn to focus on her, following her for a moment before she tackled Cirrus to the ground, keeping the pegasus off her for a moment before returning to Whisper, pressing her horn to the unicorn's – the last conscious thought he had was of terror as she fed on him. The potent fear made the soldier gag, retching on the bitter taste, but it would help to at least assure he would stay down and not interfere.

“Sweet Celestia!” Cirrus said, getting up just in time to witness the act, “What in Tartarus did she just do to him?!”

“I – I don't know! Take her out before she does us in too!” Reed shouted.

The soldier looked to the pegasus, eyeing her next target. The sense of terror spiked as the changeling's eyes locked onto her.

“Ya know what? No, buck this mess, I'm done!” Cirrus said before taking off into the night.

“What? No! Get back here!” Reed called after her before he found himself filled with the need to turn around and keep an eye on the changeling, realizing he could not afford to keep his back turned.

He started to back away from her as she advanced. The soldier was feeling rather proud of herself – she'd already broken morale enough to make one of the enemy combatants leave. One less thing to worry about.

“Stay away from me!” Reed shouted, bumping into a large rock before correcting his reverse path, “Y – you, whatever you are!”

The soldier uttered no retort, no offer, no ultimatum. She just leapt forward and attacked Reed with reckless abandon. Heavy strikes with her hooves, painful bites with her fangs. He put a good fight himself, striking back, but her hard exteriors shielded her better against his blows than hers did to his. Unfortunately, it seem that even with her advantages, Reeds survival drive and experience was helping him win out in a few blows. He even managed to strike her a spot that had been enough of an irritation before for her – her wings. After enough tumbles against the rocky landscape once again bent and crushed parts of her gossamer wings to the point of pain and uselessness. All that work, attempting to repair them and they just fell into uselessness anyway. It frustrated the soldier. One more setback, one more thing that was getting in the way of her mission home. The frustration fueled her, drove her further despite Reed's own combat effectiveness. It kept her alive, awake, and standing after Reed's stamina betrayed him. Eventually, she had him pinned, and pressed her horn against his forehead.

“N – no! Please! Mercy, have mercy!” the stallion whimpered, weakly trying to push back.

It was no use though. The soldier fed, scrambling his thoughts and leaving him unconscious. It was done. The bitter taste of fear built up too high in her though, and as she started to stumble, the soldier found herself coughing up some of the fluids she had been drinking in the past day, a foul green miasma glowing within it briefly before dying out and leaving behind what was essentially water – the negative emotions her body had rejected because of their sheer potency dissipated in the ground and air with no living thing to contain them.

The soldier shook as brought herself back to an upright position. She'd rarely used her feeding so... offensively. It was never recommended among the hive, and here the soldier could understand why. With most of the negative emotions out of her system she wasn't feeling as sick, but she still wasn't feeling very well. If she were to still need to fight, she would most certainly be doomed. In the end, she figured that maybe she cost herself even more time with her energy reserves. Maybe only a day or two at most before starvation. Back to square one. At least she managed to follow her orders though. Cameo was found and sent back. She could continue. Climbing up a small hill, the soldier thought on what she could do next. Maybe she could go back and try to feed on someone else in town before it got much closer to sunrise? She risked contact with a Canterlot representative though, but perhaps they would not show up until daytime. Ponies seemed to do a lot during the day time after all.

Reaching the top of the hill though, it became evident that such a course of action would likely not work in her favor though. Off in the distance, the soldier noticed something she knew definitely had not been there before. Lights. The distant shapes of ponies coming out of the town, some holding torches in their mouths. High alert then, that was no good. And they were coming her way, that was even worse. But why – of course, Cameo. He must have alerted the adults about what had happened, and now they were coming out to retrieve the outlaws. Irritating for the soldier's purposes, but she supposed it made sense. The soldier shook her head and heaved a haggard breath. Head east then. It was all she could really afford to do at this point. Turning away from the town, she began her trek away from Apploosa. Just keep going. She would make her way back eventually, and leave behind the hardship of this lonely service to herself. Just keep going.

Rocks continued to impede the changeling, more so than even before. The empty feeling from rejecting those negative emotions still sucked away at her, lingering just as much as the bitter aftertaste in her mouth. It made the changeling yearn for the blandly sweet but filling taste of nectar that infiltrators would dispense after a long time of storing in miscellaneous good feelings. The soldier coughed up a little more fluid as she stumbled along, her body still trying to purge itself of what it had been put through. She started to meander, realizing she was not staying on a set course, and tried her best to keep herself corrected. A distant, loud noise behind suddenly set her on alert. She turned about, looking into the dark – or rather, the points of light within the dark. She focused her ears, and realized what was being shouted was her alias. They were trying to get her attention. Find her. No, no no no no no, she did not need this right now. Why couldn't they leave well enough alone? The soldier altered her course purposefully, trying to get out of the way of the searching parties. Eventually, tired of the walking as the feeling in her stomach ate at her, the soldier just waited behind a rock. Wait until they tired themselves out and gave up their search.

As they time went by though, the cries didn't stop. And soon, the soldier could even feel the emotions of some coming nearby. The concern, the beautiful concern... If she could feed directly on even just a little bit of that... The changeling enwreathed herself in transformation magic once again, putting on the Dusty disguise. If she could just wait for whichever pony this was to come by, then she could get them alone, then she could feed. Except – no, another pony was there was well. Still, it was dark, and not all of them had been carrying torches, so maybe she had a chance. Except, as she soon realized after poking her head out, each of them had their own light. And judging from the surprised look on the one looking her way, she was already compromised.

“I found her!”

Damn, damn, damn! No! Why couldn't she pull off a plan without running into a complication like this? This wasn't supposed to happen, if only that colt hadn't run off she would be well on her way right now with a full belly and feeling significantly less ill. The soldier went back behind the rock, trying to hobble away in the shadow the rock cast against the torchlight. It would not do though, of course, and soon she was set upon by the two ponies who found her. One of them was a familiar face actually, Paddywhack.

“Whoa there Dusty, where ya' going? You alright?” the earth pony asked, managed to speak surprisingly eloquent with the torch in his mouth.

Why couldn't they just not care about her. The disguised changeling tried to continue walking along.

“Hey, hey! Can you hear me? I asked if you're alright!”

Of course she heard him. The soldier stopped in place as she cursed her situation internally. Paddywhack came up closer, reaching out a hoof. The concern coming off that contact, flowing off her back was something that actually felt good, but there was no point in indulging that. It gave the soldier a bare minimum of sustenance, but that was it. Nothing work swelling on. She needed to sever this tie.

“I am fine. I need to go,” she spoke up, holding back the urge that was building in her throat to release more material. She found herself coughing, but thankfully not much came of it.

“Ya don't sound fine in the least,” Paddywhack incredulously noted a with a slight shake of the head. He looked to the other pony's direction, “Scribble, Get Bones will ya?”

Scribble nodded before heading off. The soldier, noticing this movement, turned about. Now he was alone with her. If only for the briefest of moments... Should she go in right now? No, that would be suspicious if not look outright hostile after her insistence on leaving. Play it cool. Let him approach.

“There, see? Now help is on the way.”

Come closer, the soldier begged within her head, just a little closer.

“We found Reed and Whisper knocked out, Cameo mentioned something about a pegasus though, think you might have seen where she went?”

“She fled,” the soldier said, giving the bare minimum cooperation.

“Huh, alright, weird.”

He came in just close enough. The soldier made as though she were stumbling forward, falling forward into Paddywhack.

“Whoa there! Take it easy,” the earth pony said as he held a hoof up to hold her a little bit.

The soldier let her horn sprout once more. There was a small shot of anxiety and restlessness in Paddywhack, but there was plenty of concern here. All she had to do was –

Bones and Scribble came out from over the hill. The soldier quickly withdrew her horn, hoping the shadows had obscured it enough. That didn't help her desire to feed though. She had been so close, so close to something that hopefully at the least could cleanse her palette. She pushed herself away from Paddywhack, trying to reorient herself away, to focus on leaving. But the ponies wouldn't allow her though.

“Dusty! What in the wide, wide world are you doing out here?” Bones demanded, coming up in front of her, levitating his torch with telekinesis as he looked around her, trying to get a read on her and maybe figure out what was going on with her, “That moisture on your muzzle... That was you that threw up then back there.”

“I need to go,” the soldier repeated.

“You need medical attention is what you need, Dusty,” Bones insisted.

“I will be fine. I need to go. I will survive. I always survive,” the soldier insisted, trying to stumble off once more.

“Sweet Celestia, Dusty, just stop! I'm trying to help you! Just stop for a second and look at yourself!”

“I don't need your help,” the soldier icily responded, “Let me be. I don't need your treatment. I don't need the help of the rest of your town. I just need to be – anywhere else.”

“Consarnit, why?! You said yourself you weren't going anywhere, what's wrong with here?”

“It's not my home!” the soldier finally exclaimed, bursting with a fit of terse, unsettling rage that could no longer be contained after just trying to get this pony away from her, “This isn't where I belong. This isn't...”

The anger started to boil back down after the initial release of pressure. She could tell for a moment that Bones was actually scared a little by this display, which in itself did not help. The soldier found herself heaving again as the taste of fear made her body feel like insisting that there was still more material within her that needed to be rid of. That in itself brought some of the concern back after a moment, but the soldier really didn't need the help.

“Then just let me try to patch you up and you can go whenever the trains are back up. I'll pay the ticket myself.”

“I'll be fine on my own.”

“Dusty, the next town over is Dodge Junction, and that's separated from us by at least a week's travel on hoof.”

And it was the truth, unfortunately. That earnestness in his heart spoke it at least. A rumble resounded in the soldier's throat, another expression of the seething frustration. Leaving was not an option. She'd have to stay. She had a chance of perishing either way, but she had to hope she would at least have more time, more of a chance in Apploosa.

“Alright,” she reluctantly acquiesced.

As she started to be led back to town, being helped along by Paddywhack and Bones, the doctor starting asking her questions, trying to figure out what happened. The soldier tuned them out though. Her chances of survival were slim. Their care, their concern, it was highly likely not going to matter in the end. Why did the invasion have to fail? Why did she have to be stuck in the middle of nowhere? Why did the colt have to go out? Why did the outlaws have to be here?

“Why did you have to care...” If this long string of circumstances working against her hadn't been capped off by the concern, she would have at least had a better chance of going back and feeding without them waiting to keep an eye on her. As is it was, it was going to become hard to engage in a series of feedings without attracting suspicion even more.

There was a brief slow down in the pace as Paddywhack and Bones found themselves surprised by her actually saying something, and also at the content of her words.

“We care because we're decent pony folk,” Paddywhack responded, an edge of taken insult clear in his tone. A quick, shaming look from Bones shut down some of that fervor though.

“We care because we can tell yer a pony in need, and, well I suppose it's kind along what Paddy said, it's the good, decent thing to do. And besides, you've also helped out a little as well. Now we got two crooks that are gonna be landed in jail, and from the sound of it you managed to save Cameo again,” Bones tried, leaning more towards the positive. It did help the soldier at little, but the mention of the colt brought about a twitch in the corner of her mouth.

“The colt should be more securely contained,” she suggested, the barest hint of a bite detectable in her cold voice.

“Oh good heavens, yes. I reckon Cameo will be grounded and kept in Braeburn's place until they leave. And I won't be surprised if that punishment continues back at home,” Bones nodded.

“Good.”

A pause followed for a moment until a brief thought of hope from Bones became a harbinger to a question.

“Don't suppose you're ready to give your version of what happened?”

The soldier probably wasn't ever going to be ready to give the best account that simultaneously, sufficiently, covered the truth. But then, probably for the best to give an version of events before the criminals did. They might not be believed, but then again, they might.

“I was going to leave. I noticed signs that Cameo had left. Decided to look for him before leaving. Tracked him. Tried getting him to go back. Intercepted by the outlaws. Had Cameo run while I kept them distracted. The unicorn was the first to fall. The pegasus fled after that. The earth pony was taken down next. I tried to walk away,” she tersely recounted, omitting her transformation and feeding.

“How'd you get so sick though?” Paddywhack asked.

“Physical trauma, combined with recent recovery from the elements?” Bones offered questioningly, “You've got a fair share of bruises in sensitive places from the look of it. And pushing yourself that much physically ain't good when you're still needing to get better.”

“That sounds likely,” the soldier agreed, going along with it.

The question at this point though, was how long the town ponies were going to remain ignorant of what she was doing. The outlaws were going to be a potential giveaway. And there was the question of how much her feeding would show signs. She knew that the feeding process could leave a magic signature, but it was very subtle, and usually magic wielding ponies didn't detect it off hand unless they were specifically looking for it. There was also a chance of a headache though, especially with continued feedings, which would be even more of an obvious dead giveaway. And when she thought about it, she never figured what happened to the first pony she fed on here, how thoroughly he was looked over. And then there was Braeburn, he could still potentially be an open end – it would likely depend on how much he remembered, as well as what sort of symptoms he might be displaying. Chance. The soldier hated chance, hated weighing it. It was all she had to lean on at this moment though. A chance to be alone with someone. A chance that the Canterlot representative would not arrive soon. As she was at long last brought back into the clinic, back to the familiar bed, the soldier ruminated on these chances, even as she was at long last allowed to lay and have a chance to sleep. Her mind didn't allow her to relax while some part of her brain insisted she should be awake and on guard against the threats she feared.

Eventually though, she managed to reason enough with herself to help herself come to grips with what was happening. There was a chance she might wake up captive – or not awake at all. But as it was, being awake would not help her. She was weakened, tired, her body still trying to process and filter out what remained of her good stock of emotions from the bad. When it came down to weighing the options, resting versus not resting, the former had a higher survival chance than the other. She did what she could to enforce that in her mind, even once again calling upon that imaginary coordinator she had dreamed up for giving her orders. The coordinator had done the calculations, the risk assessment, and had decided that resting and recovering was the best course of action for this soldier. With the mental gymnastics done, the soldier finally found herself able to relax, however slightly, and drift off. She would receive her next 'orders' in due time.

Chapter 8 - The Reason and the Investigation

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Chapter Eight - The Reason and the Investigation

“Easy there champ, don't overexert yourself,” Bones chided.

Braeburn groaned, holding a hoof to his head as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes, as well as to relieve a slight, overbearing, tense sensation in his head. It reminded him of it could be on a long day when he'd overtax himself trying to get work done, feeling worried about getting things done on time.

“Here,” Bones levitated a glass of water over the earth pony, who held it between his hooves, staring at it for a moment before taking sips, “How're you feeling?”

“Noggin' ain't feeling too good, but I think I'm okay,” Braeburn muttered.

The stallion looked about. It was his room, and judging form the light outside it was... morning? He looked over curiously at Bones.

“Uh, am I alright? Did I hit my head on somethin'?” he guessed.

“Well, I'm kinda hoping you can tell me that actually,” Bones said, the corner of his mouth bent up in an uncertain smile, “You scared the light out of your aunt when you wouldn't get up earlier. What's the last thing you remember?”

“Well... I...” Braeburn hold a hoof up to the edge of his muzzle, eyes once again staring down, though this time they seemed to be looking through the pattern of his blanket, “I remember sayin' goodnight to Cinnamon, Chestnut, and the kid. Dusty too, but I think she might have already been asleep. And then I spent a little time stargazin' out the window before I went to bed...”

“Had anything to drink before you went to bed? Or anything to eat that you usually don't?”

“Nah, been too nervous about being anything but sober lately,” Braeburn shook his head, “Don't want to lose Cameo again because I might dare to keep an eye off him for more than a minute.”

Braeburn noticed the nervous frown at the mention of that.

“Oh Celestia, don't tell me he – “

“He's fine,” Bones insisted, laying a comforting hoof on Braeburn, “Seems he though he'd go out an' play hero, tried to uncover some stash used by Scornful's gang. Dusty brought him back though.”

Braeburn heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

“That's good. Thank goodness she did, she's practically becoming that foal's guardian a--” Braeburn paused, “Wait, Dusty. I remember a little bit more with her. Woke me up last night.”

That earned another curious look from Bones, the unicorn leaning forward.

“What happened? She tell you that Cameo was leaving?”

“No. No, I... don't think so...” Braeburn massaged his forehead as he tried to get around the mental block that seemed have been placed in his head, “It was... I'm not totally sure... I... I remember feeling upset at her for some reason. I felt bad about it too.”

“Any idea what about?”

“It was... I... I don't know...” Braeburn tried to go over in his head how it went. She woke him up, he got upset, and then... “I know I wasn't upset because she woke me. It was... Something she had on her mind...”

Bones bit the bottom of his own mouth for a moment, wondering if he should give a suggestion.

“Did she mention anything about leaving?”

For a moment, that didn't seem like the case as Braeburn ruminated on that possibility. The lights went off in Braeburn's eyes though that showed his internal revelation, the cogs turning.

“Yeah, she did actually. I was... hoping she'd stay and help. Mentioned something about how she didn't belong, an'... an'...” Braeburn rested his front on the bed as he brought up his front hooves to rub circles about his temples, “When I asked why she wanted to stay with my family if she was gonna leave she said somethin' about... Needin' somethin'... And then...”

Braeburn blinked a few times as he tried to think about what happened next. Something came to mind but he wasn't sure if it made sense, if it even fit. It just seemed bizarre, and it didn't help that he was having a hard to time remembering.

“She hugged me?” Braeburn guessed aloud, “I think that's what happened.”

Braeburn looked over at Bones, who was at that moment staring down at the floor, his eyes jittering about as though he reading a book.

“That mare...” the doctor murmered.

“What is it, doc?”

Bones glanced up at Braeburn for a moment, registering the query before looking back down, thinking some more before huffing a sigh.

“I've been trying to figure out what exactly her deal is. She's like...” Bones shook his head, as though doing so realigned his train of thought, “I've seen ponies who come from back intense journeys or service who act like her. Especially if they've lost a lot. It's been a while since I've run into one, but... I think I know that look, that attitude.”

“What do ya... How exactly do you mean, doc?”

Bones looked up from his thoughts, regarding the relatively naive stallion.

“Not every pony faces combat and comes back out of it the same way. Yer grandpa was mostly alright, though I reckon he spent plenty of time just shutting off himself. Still, he lived a good life, had your pop among a few other kids. Other ponies though...” Bones stared out the window, “They might survive a battle or war in a physical sense, but mentally – that becomes another issue. Some come back from the war but they still bring a little of the war with them, whether they like it or not. They still hold onto some drive they needed to develop to survive because they just can't let go of it.”

Bones looked back over at Braeburn, pointing at his own head for a moment.

“You get... set in a way. Like someone took a chisel to your head and carved some instructions into your skull so you wouldn't forget them. And for some that means they can never really be at peace – it doesn't help if you don't got a good place to return to when the fight is done.”

Braeburn thought over that for a moment, wondering what he could say to truly acknowledge these sort of words he was hearing.

“Y' reckon Dusty's been through some nasty times then?”

“I can't imagine it being anything but a certainty,” Bones nodded, looking up at the ceiling, “There's that certain stoicism to her. Cameo says she's called herself a soldier. And those words she'll say, 'I need to go,' 'I will survive,' 'I don't belong,' all of that, and, well, when she was talking about this place, that 'it's not her home'.”

A heavy silence hung over the room as those words hung over the two stallions.

“Maybe she needs her home then?” Braeburn guessed.

“That's the thing, I'm not sure she has one to go back to, at least not one that she needs,” Bones dismally noted, “She talks about how she's not going anywhere in particular. There's also how she came in wandering out of the desert. And then she seemed ready to wander back out after getting the stuffing knocked outta her. I practically had to twist her hoof to get her to come back. It's like she wants to put herself into harm's way. Braeburn... I don't think she values her own life.”

It was a terrible thing to consider for Braeburn. It was not as though he hadn't heard of the concept, it was just that it always seemed so distant, impossible. It was hard to imagine a pony being like that.

“Is there anything we can do to help her?”

“Give her a place to stay, and support her best as we can, I reckon. If she'll let ponies do that, that is.”

Another heavy silence stood over the room – though thankfully it was soon quashed by the sound of a knock on the door to the room.

“Doctor Sawbones? Is everything alright in there? Is Braeburn okay?” came Cinnamon's muffled voice.

That got a small smile out of Bones,

“In the meantime, I think you could use a little support yourself,” the doctor said quietly with a wink. Turning to the door, he used his magic to unlock the door, “Sure is Mrs. Cider, come on in and see for yourself.”

Cinnamon Cider came in immediately, with Water Chestnut and Cameo bringing up the rear. Cameo was noticeably looking rather self-conscious of himself, though the glances from Chestnut were likely contributing to that. Cinnamon came up next to Braeburn, smiling at the stallion, holding a hoof up to him.

“How's my favorite nephew doing?” she asked, earning a little smile out of Braeburn himself.

“Tiny bit of a headache it seems, but he's alright otherwise. I reckon he just had some difficulty sleeping,” Bones offered, though in his own thoughts he was still thinking on that. It still seemed like there ought to be something more with his difficulty waking up, but there was no sense in worrying the family even more. As Cinnamon gave Braeburn a hug, a certain colt spoke up.

“Hey Brae, um... glad you're not dead,” Cameo sheepishly offered.

The wording got a slight chuckle out of Braeburn.

“Glad you're not dead either squirt, I heard you wandered off last night,” he replied.

“Yeah...” Cameo scuffed a hoof on the floor at the attention, “I got attacked by more outlaws.”

Braeburn's blood seemed to turn to ice for a moment, with how he reacted, eyes wide, body stiff.

“Y – you what?”

“He went out and almost got himself killed,” Cinnamon harshly rehashed with that certain tone that only disappointed, chiding mothers seemed able to do, “And he's going to be grounded for a very long time for that.”

“Yeah...”

“Well that serves you right, you'd think you'd learn,” Braeburn shook his head, before looking up between Cinnamon and Chestnut, “Thinking of putting him on a leash?”

The corner of Chestnut's mouth turned up in a slight smile, “That ain't a bad idea actually,” he spoke thoughtfully, exaggeratedly stroking his muzzle.

“Hey! You can't do that!” Cameo finally piped up with some excitement, “That's gotta be, like, illegal or something.”

“Well sure I can, I'm your dad. And I think your mother would rest easy knowing you won't be running off on some hair-brained adventure,” Chestnut said as a slight grin spread across face.

It was Cinnamon's turn to laugh, though she was trying to avoid being obvious about it. She held a hoof to her mouth as she tried to contain herself, little fits of giggles escaping.

“Mooom! That's not funny!”

“Sure it's funny,” Braeburn agreed, “Why I think it'd be even better if we gave you one of them collars with the jangly bells on them so they'd know if yer comin' or goin'.”

That got Cinnamon to let loose the laughter, leaning up against the wall as she allowed the mirth to flow out of her. Cameo pouted at this, and tried to dodge as Chestnut tried to muss up his mane.

“Oh thank you, both of you, I really needed that,” Cinnamon smiled, wiping the tears form her eyes before she walked over to Cameo, looking down at her son, “And don't worry Cameo, we won't do that to you. Yet. Just don't be making anymore mischief.”

“I won't...”

Bones, observing this, had a smile all his own.

“Oh, you'll cause your parents a headache some other way, I'm sure, but at least you're trying to learn,” he commented before standing up and heading out the door, “You should be fine, just maybe drink a little more fluids.”

“Thank you doctor,” Cinnamon said with a nod. A silent nod form Chestnut showed his own approval as well.

“No problem,” Bones said before departing the house, leaving the household.

It had been a tough evening and morning, between the search for Dusty, looking over Reed and Whisper, and then the time with Braeburn, but it seemed like he finally had a chance to rest. Maybe just head back to the clinic and take a nap the--

“Bones! I'm glad I found you,” the familiar voice of Silverstar called out down the street.

“No rest for the wicked...” the doctor muttered under his breath before turning to Silverstar, putting on a least a modicum of a more chipper facade, “What can I do for ya' Silver?”

“I need your help with handling River Reed and Whisper Wind. They just woke up and, well, they don't seem right in the head,” Silverstar explained.

Of course they're not, Bones thought exasperatedly to himself.

“They've been saying stuff about seeing some sorta demon who hid in the skape of, well, Mirage.”

That was different though.

“I reckon they were talking about Dusty at the time?” Bones guessed.

“That's what I'm figuring,” the sheriff nodded, though a twist in his expression showed a bit of fury concerning the matter, “Considering what Cinnamon's foal said, and how every pony was found out there, I'm willing to guess they fought Dusty in some capacity, but that demon thing, that don't make sense.”

“Yeah, you're right, that doesn't...” Bones muttered as he moved around to Silverstar's side, following alongside the sheriff', “Your friend, Mirage, you mentioned she had a talent for tricks of light, do you think that maybe that could be something? I mean, it wouldn't be the first time there's been a... similarity between her and Dusty.”

“Maybe, but I'm not so sure about that,” Silverstar shrugged, glancing up at the sky for a moment, “She was good at what she did, but she really never did that well about it at night. And that wouldn't explain some of the claims they are making.”

“Such as?”

“Saying that she tried to steal their souls.”

Bones halted in his tracks a for a moment before catching up.

“That sounds, well, it sounds ridiculous,” he stated.

“I know, right?” Silverstar said, looking Bones' way, “I thought that maybe they were trying to work some angle to worm their way out of jail, but if that is the case it's probably the hairbrained way to do it imaginable. They're insisting they get examined to prove it, though personally I'm just hoping you can find out whatever is making them act so crazy, maybe find a way to shut 'em up.”

Bones took a deep breath, but nodded.

“Well, I suppose it's only proper I do the sheriff department a service.”

“Thanks Bones,” Silverstar said as he looked back ahead, a determined grimace and furrowed brow showing his lack of enthusiasm about the process, “Quite honestly, I think it'll help to just get someone else in there who can deal them other than me.”

“Isn't that what your deputy is for?”

“You'd think that, but honestly I don't feel like Haul Away is ready to handle that. Barely a stallion he is,” Silverstar smirked a little bit out of amusement, “Apparently I still scare the living daylights out him. So if I lose my cool...”

“... He's not gonna be able to get you to hold yourself together.”

“Yep. You though Bones, you got enough sense to know how to reel me back.”

“Well, when you live as long as I do, you realize a few things about ponies.”

“I suppose so. Still it also helps that you don't quite got the same history with Reed I do.”

“Well don't worry, I'll make sure to keep you an honest pony.”

Coming to the jail adjacent to the sheriff's office, Silverstar was the first to enter, the sheriff glancing about inside as he did so. As Bones finally followed in, he was rather enthusiastically greeted from one of the cells.

“Oh thank Celestia! You're the doctor right? Listen, everyone here is in danger!” shouted a familiar looking earth pony, Reed.

“He's telling the truth, that demon mare attacked us!” Whisper insisted.

Bones glanced Whisper's way, briefly noting the lead covering over the unicorn's horn that he had applied himself earlier when the two outlaws had been dragged in here unconscious. It also gave him a moment to notice the twitch in Silverstar's expression, mouth pulling back into a severely unamused frown.

“Easy there fellas, let me examine you first,” Bones said dismissively, before looking Silverstar's way, “Would you be so kind as to open up Reed's cell, sheriff?”

Silverstar wordlessly nodded, producing a keyring from his vest and dexterously handling the right one to open up the cell door in question. As soon as Bones was inside and it was clear Reed wasn't going to make a run for it in that moment, Silverstar turned the key again and locked it. Bones opened one of his medical saddlebags and produced a small wand, levitating it. With a slight manipulation of magic, the wand started to produce a soft light.

“I ain't insane or seein' things,” Reed insisted.

“I'll be the judge of that,” Bones stated before hold the wand close to Reed's eyes, “Please focus on my horn, and try not to blink. Now, did you imbibe anything last night, or eat anything out of the ordinary?”

“I am teetoler, sir,” Reed insisted – a mocking laugh from Silverstar immediately detracted that thought.

“And I'm the raiser of the sun!” the sheriff declared.

“I wasn't drunk!” Reed shouted, turning to the source of discredit.

“Eyes on me, please,” Bones said between gritted teeth, “And total honesty, otherwise I can't speak for your health reliably.”

“Okay, I had one beer. One beer! And I hardly ever drink, it's the truth. And I didn't have anything weird to eat.”

Bones held back the lid of Reed's eyes slightly, noticing some of the red in there.

“Alright, tell me your version of events,” the doctor ordered as he continued his examination.

“We were going after that... mare... and the colt, figuring we'd get a decent ambush in. I noticed what she looked like, like...” Reed glanced out at Silverstar for a moment, “... like how I knew her years ago. And then when I tried to attack her she had the kid head off and then she...”

With his hoof on Reed's pulse, Bones noticed the pick up in rate. He saw the way Reed's eyes contracted further in fear.

“I swear on my mother's grave, she turned into some kinda of demon, like some sorta insectile mockery of an alicorn thing straight outta Tartarus,” he said, shivering slightly, “And then she went after Whisper, and she touched a horn to his and...”

Bones stole a look in Whisper Wind's direction, noticing that he was hunched over, looked afraid as he himself relived the moment in his head. And for some reason, he was rubbing at his head, like he had some sort of headache...

“And what did she do?”

“I – I don't know exactly, but it looked like she was sucking the soul or somethin' out of him.”

“He doesn't appear to be a zombie. Nor do you,” Bones noted.

“That's not – ! Look, I don't know what she did exactly but I know it knocked us both clean out. After Cirrus left she went after me and did whatever she did.”

Bones noticed Reed rubbing a little at his forehead.

“Headache?” the doctor inquired.

“Yeah, ever since I woke up,” Reed nodded, “I'm sure it's from what she did.”

“Or maybe you're just a lyin', hungover, sonnuva – “ Silverstar started, only to swiftly be cut off by Bones.

“A hangover is definitely more likely,” he spoke.

“I told you – !”

“I know what you told me, now hold on and let me finish this examination so I check up on your partner.”

Reed acquiesced to the silence, but it was short lived before he decided to bring up something else.

“She's in town, isn't she?” he nervously asked.

“The mare you assaulted is currently in town, yes, recovering from her own injuries,” Bones noted, trying to keep a dry, clinical tone.

“Knew it... Listen doctor, everyone here is in danger. She might look like a mare but I guarantee that – “

“That's enough outta you,” Silverstar growled threateningly.

“Well ye' better listen up 'sheriff', and listen good – I know you wanna see yer' mare friend in that thing, but I guarantee you there's something more sinister afoot! Whatever she is now, she's gonna do something to drag every pony else down to their graves – nothin' that evil looking has any good intent!”

“I oughtta kill you, you – !”

“Silver!” Bones shouted, looking sternly at the stallion, making sure he wasn't about to explode. He then turned back Reed's way, closing his saddlebags back up, “And you, River Reed, I recommend you keep your mouth shut too. Your observations have been noted.”

Thankful for the quiet, Bones lit up his horn once more to do a sort of arcane, magical scan over Reed's body. He encounter a little bump, for lack of a more appropriate word, while scanning the mind but otherwise didn't detect anything out of the ordinary. After a careful exit from the cell, Bones then went on to Whisper Wind, who thankfully cooperated much more, not making as much noise. Both Bones and Silverstar were thankful to then leave. The two outlaws had finally shut up, but the silence was tentative, doctor and sheriff knew that.

“So, any idea what they might have had to see such a thing?” Silverstar asked as both stood in the street.

“Besides a ton of alcohol? There's a variety of cactus out in the wilderness that can induce intense hallucinations when consumed. They seem too lucid for that though,” Bones pondered.

“So what ya' figure then?” Silverstar asked.

Bones rested his muzzle on a hoof for a moment as he contemplated the idea. There were similarities to other things that were becoming disturbingly linked.

“I'll need to get back to you on that. Maybe... maybe there's some sorta illness going around, but I'll need to check on a few patients of mine to be sure,” Bones then said.

Silverstar looked a little surprised at that, but otherwise simply shrugged.

“If you say so doc.”

Bones waved to the sheriff before turning his attention on a house down the road, the abode of a certain orange pegasus. He smiled pleasantly at the other ponies walking by, but internally was mulling over an unfortunate possibility. Knick Knack... Yesterday, Bones had written off how Knick Knack had been feeling to a hangover. After all, he'd come in for a drink when they first noticed Dusty. Knick Knack hadn't had as much to drink as usual though, something which Bones had attributed to maybe the alcohol he had being a little stronger than usual. However, there was a possibility of... well, a demon wandering into town was ridiculous, but... Bones shook his head. Whatever was happening, it had a reasonable explanation, he was sure of it.

Bones was almost surprised by how little time seemed to pass by the time he made his way to the general store, looking inside. Sure enough, Knick Knack was there, looking fine enough. But passing over just because of that initial visual inspection wouldn't be good, and Bones knew that. He gave his head another shake as he thought to himself on the matter. He wasn't admitting anything by looking into this, wasn't saying that Dusty was some monster, he was just making sure all aspects of this story were straightened up. Walking in, Knick Knack smiled slightly his way.

“Hey there Bones, how are you fairing? I heard last night was rather... busy,” the orange pegasus asked.

“You could say that,” Bones said with a yawn, “Braeburn's cousin ran off, Dusty got him, ran into some of Scornful's lackeys... Thankfully it's getting sorted.”

Knick Knack's smile grew from a tentative to a somewhat fuller, more genuine one.

“Well that's good it's getting sorted. Shame about Braebrun's cuz' though. Little fella seems determined to put himself in his footsteps,” Knick Knack mused, “Though hopefully if he does he'll eventually calm down and learn to try to be a bit more careful like Braeburn has. Well, as careful as he can be at least.”

Bones snorted, though it is was more out of amusement than anything else.

“Yeah... Braeburn still has some growing to do I think, but he's trying,” Bones nodded before taking a breath. He liked this line of conversation, but he needed to ask more, “Truth be told though, I didn't come here just for small talk. I was wanting to check and see how you were doing since yesterday.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I hadn't been doing bad. I took it easy, made sure to get in some extra rest, and the headache has died down, so I'm doing alright,” Knick Knack said, his pleasant expression interrupted for only a moment.

“Well that's good. Have you recalled anything else happening the night before?” Bones inquired, leaning in a little.

“Nothing different I think. I remember being at the saloon with you fellas, helping out that mare, having her get kinda weirdly close and then... well, I woke up with the hangover,” Knick Knack shrugged.

“I see then,” Bones nodded, “Uh, when she got close, like, what was it like?”

Knick Knack blushed, earning a facehoof out of Bones as he realized what the question sounded like.

“I mean that in the most clinical way possible. Like, how were you arranged? Was there any sensation that felt off?” Bones said, trying to get himself to give a better attempt at the question.

“Well, uh, I don't think so? I don't really remember too much. It's like, well... I think it was a fairly close hug maybe? Chest to chest, heads past each other, it's kinda hard to picture in my head exactly what was going on.”

Bones closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think on that himself before something else came to mind.

“Would it be okay if I did a little arcane scan of your head? I need it for the sake of checking into something that might be involved with another case,” he asked.

Knick Knack's head cocked off to the side as he considered the request, pondering it before a thought went off in his head.

“Wait... so are you thinking it might not have been just a hangover?” the pegasus cautiously asked.

“I'm not sure what it is, which is why I'm asking. Might be nothing,” Bones shrugged. It could also be something, but that didn't need to be dwelt upon too much, “I mean it, it's just something I need to figure out.”

Knick Knack looked uncertain, uneasy at that, but eventually nodded.

“Well, if it'll help, I'll permit it,” he said before walking out from behind the cash register to directly in front of Bones, “Let's do this.”

Bones' horn lit up, a light slowly moving off of it and starting to move over Knick Knack.

“You'll notice a tingling sensation, but this shouldn't hurt,” he mentioned before going full on into analysis.

Much to Bones' own discomfort though, he found himself encountering that same “bump” as before. He was familiar enough with magical and biological theory to know that something like that shouldn't be there. All ponies had some level of a “magic field” to them that flowed a certain way. Unicorns were the most obvious of course because of their horn which channeled magic in a linear fashion out of the body, allowing for the exercise of magic in specialized, esoteric ways. The Earth Pony magic field was more confined to the body, running in a circuit that helped to bolster their strength and constitution, though according to some it was likely this could be shed off to help growth of life in other beings. Pegasi seemed to occupy a middle ground between the two on the other hand – their magic field ran loosely through their body, which allowed them fly as well as to easily extend their magic out of their body by interacting with elements of the weather. Every pony of course had their own unique, exact field that matched with their personal being. But they all had a similarity, and to some extent, they all had a sort of flow. This bump, it was... not quite an interruption of the flow, but it seemed to be doing something. It was as though someone had taken a rock and tossed it in a stream. The water still flowed, but there was a diversion in the exact nature of the path for some reason. And it was linked somehow into the mental well being of Knick Knack, Bones knew that much. Eventually, the light stopped moving over Knick Knack's head, and the thaumic glow retreated into Bone's horn.

“So... did you find what you were looking for?” Knick Knack asked.

“I think so. I'm still trying to figure out what it is exactly, to tell the truth,” Bones muttered as he chewed a little on the bottom of his mouth, “Gonna need to check some more folk before I feel like I can say anything definitive.”

“If you say so Bones. Just, well please tell me if anything goes wrong?” Knick Knack requested, looking nervous, “I wouldn't want to be left out of the know if it turns out something is getting spread around.”

“I'll make sure you know,” Bones nodded before turning about, walking out the store, “Thank you Knick Knack, have a nice day,”

“You too, Bones.”

Coming out onto the street, Bones found his legs already taking him back to one other place he knew he needed to check out. He yawned, and realized that eventually he would need to stop and rest. Not yet though. It might be better to check and see whatever this might be if it was still relatively fresh, so to speak. He didn't like how this was going though. He had felt downright sorry for Dusty, saw a little bit of others he had seen before in her. In truth, he saw a tiny bit of himself in there as well. He kept on though, telling himself that even if this meant this was all linked to Dusty in some way, it didn't mean that what Reed claimed was true. Soon, Bones' hooves were standing before the front door of Braeburn's house. After a quick knock, the first thing Bones saw was Cinnamon Cider.

“Oh hello there doctor. Is everything alright?” the mare asked anxiously.

“I'd like to give another look over Braeburn, I think I might have missed something this morning,” Bones admitted.

“Oh. Well come on in, I certainly wouldn't want to miss out on anything that might have happened to him,” Cinnamon said with some concern as she backed out of the way, leading the doctor back out to where Braeburn was still resting in bed. Bones caught a brief moment of Braeburn reading a book before the stallion turned his attention to him.

“Hey there doc,” he said with a slight grin, “What brings you back here?”

“Just wanted to do an arcane scan to make sure I didn't miss something.”

“Scan away,” Braeburn said with a shrug.

As Bones approached, looking a little half-lidded in the eye as he fire up his magic, Cinnamon looked at him with some concern.

“Think you could use with some coffee Doctor Sawbones? You're looking a little tired,” she asked.

“No, I'll be fine, just gotta get this out of the way and I'll be heading back home for a rest, no need,” Bones said with a limp attempt at a dismissive hoof wave.

Cinnamon frowned a little but otherwise said nothing more, allowing the doctor to go back to his work. Bones himself started to frown as well, displeased at what he found, that same “bump”. All of them had something in common, being with Dusty at some point without another to back them up, or at least someone legitimate as was the case with the outlaws. Bones shook his head though as he realized he needed more to make this experiment legitimate. He needed to check other ponies. Stepping out into the living room, he looked over Cinnamon.

“I'm sorry to bother you longer, but could I take a quick look at you as well? It shouldn't be long,” Bones explained.

“Uh, sure, I guess,” Cinnamon said uncertainly, “You sure everything is fine?”

“I believe so, I just want to double check some things.”

“If you say so.”

She obviously wasn't very sure about it, but Bones felt sure he'd be able to have some semblance of something more comforting. After doing the scan, Bones felt relieved when he noticed that he did not find that figurative “bump”.

“Everything's okay then?” Cinnamon asked.

“Huh?”

“You were smiling a little bit just there after you did your magic thing,” she pointed out, gesturing to his face.

“Oh, uh, yes, yes I suppose it;s all okay then, yep, hehe,” Bones said, chuckling nervously.

Cinnamon frowned, clearly still unconvinced.

“Doctor Sawbones, what's going on?” Cinnamon asked.

Bones sighed, hanging his head low for a moment. He didn't want to raise any further concern, but the ethical thing to do would be to tell her what was going on. Lying because you thought you knew what was best could be a slippery slope if you weren't careful.

“I'm trying to figure out if there might be a link between some cases,” he finally spoke up, “Of people going unconscious and waking up with headaches. I've noticed all of them have some sort of a small... thaumic blemish,” that sounded more official than a bump at least, “that can be detected with magical scans. And I didn't detect it on you, which is good.”

Cinnamon looked at Bones as he explained this all. Judging form the look on her face, the doctor gathered she might not have gotten it all completely, but she seemed to understand for the most part.

“Alrighty then. Any idea what that sort of thing might be caused by then?” she asked.

“Physical contact, I suspect,” Bones found himself again biting the bottom of his mouth as he eventually found himself feeling he had to ask, “Did you touch Dusty at all while she was here?”

“Uh, well, there were a few moments we might have bumped into each other or something I suppose,” Cinnamon asked, concern coming out again, “You think she might have some bug?”

“I don't know, that's why I'm checking. It's possible she caught something while out in the desert, but I'm not sure. If I could check your husband and foal...”

Cinnamon nodded, and led him to the other bedroom where Chestnut was giving Cameo a very stern look. Thankfully it seemed an atmosphere of discipline had been brought over the place, so requesting and getting a scan didn't take a lot of fuss thankfully. After that, Bones headed for the front door.

“They're okay?” Cinnamon asked.

“They're both okay,” Bones nodded, “You all had prolonged chances for contact, I think the symptoms would have emerged already. For now though, Mrs. Cider, I have a request.”

He wouldn't be 'lying' with this request would he?

“Could you please not tell anyone that I think Dusty might be involved in this? It's just a theory, and I'd for an innocent pony to get messed up in something just because I messed up with a theory.”

Cinnamon spent a moment wrestling with that idea for a moment in her head as well, but eventually nodded.

“I'll honor your request.”

“Thank you.”

Stepping out into the sun, Bone squinted a little. He felt his body fill with that paradoxical feeling of liveliness and tiredness, as though his spirit were nourished by the light but was weighed down by the armor of his being that was his flesh. He still had some looking into to do, but for that point in time he finally impressed upon himself that he should recover some sleep before he made a mistake today. Trotting back to his house, he stumbled into his room, closing the blinds and laying in bed. Maybe he'd find himself thinking more clearly with a little rest.

Chapter 9 - The Confrontation

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Chapter Nine – The Confrontation

The soldier stared at the canteen of water laying next to the familiar bed. After what had happened before in the night, regurgitating fluids, the doctor had been adamant about her drinking to replace them. The soldier had been doing a little drinking, but it was only token amounts, to see like she had. In a way she wished she could explain, but of course, if that was a possibility then this situation would be completely different. At least that stallion had gotten the rest part right, she definitely needed that to allow her body to realign itself. However, she did need nutrition. Unfortunately the vitamins that were vital to pony health did nothing to fill her. She needed to feed on someone, but there was no pony around that would serve that purpose conveniently. And even if they did, it was currently in the middle of the day, when a suddenly sleeping or woozy pony would be suspicious nearby her – especially with the current risks at play. The only reason she wasn't out looking for some pony to feed on in a convenient hidden spot where she could at least move them was because she knew she wasn't healthy enough to do that at this moment. And from the sound of it, she'd need to do plenty of feeding to be able to make it to the next closest population center. The train could potentially work, but she didn't know how to operate it, and besides, with orders forbidding travel among the ponies it would make suspicion still rise. Death was becoming a very real possibility, which was extremely upsetting after having made it this far, and gotten what felt like so close to have a method for escape. As it was, she was just waiting and hoping her body would be ready to hunt in the night, and hoping that whoever came from Canterlot would be taking more time than needed.

The soldier stared at the half-full canteen, thinking upon the fluid in there. What it meant for ponies, and what that in turn meant for her as a changeling. From the beginning, she never doubted her species' worth. While the need to feed on the love and various positive emotions of other beings meant there was some reliance that could be seen as a parasitic lifestyle, it simply didn't seem that way to her kind – at least as a whole. She had heard about some irregulars who would start to lament what they were, but they would naturally be swiftly removed. After, even though changelings needed ponies to feed upon, there were carnivores that fed upon other creatures as well, and at least changelings weren't so barbaric as to do that. Ponies themselves fed on water and plants, relying on other things to live. And the plants themselves fed on the earth, water, and sun. In the end, even the soldier supposed she relied on the same things as the ponies, however indirectly. Still, at least she didn't need to destroy anything in the process when it came to her end. She would fight to the bitter end for the hive that provided for her, but there was nothing wrong with that.

Finally picking up the canteen, the soldier took a few more chugs to at least provide a little bit more to the illusion that she was doing something to be what these ponies thought was healthier. Wait for nightfall. Feed. Find a map. Get out. Hope she didn't die at any intervening point.

And then what?

It was an annoying question, but one the soldier knew had merit to address. She didn't have much information, but she knew she would be encountering still more trouble if she kept going from situation to situation hanging by the skin of her teeth. The soldier didn't like it, but she realized she would have to indulge that inner coordinator she'd made up for herself more. At least, that's how it seemed, but would that also be bad in the even longer term? The soldier rolled over in her bed, eyes staring through the wall. Learning to coordinate and plan around herself would likely help her survive her journey, but what would happen when she returned back to the original colony? If she stopped specializing as simply a soldier, would they accept her? Would she be too... irregular... to function within? She had been acting as a soldier, an infiltrator, a coordinator – not very well she realized, but she had been attempting to adapt. She had certainly gone beyond her previous bounds. And she had been doing this all alone. The soldier twitched a little as she found her limbs pulling in closer. She had been alone ever since she landed in the desert, cut off entirely from all other changelings. Her entire life, she had never been so entirely and utterly isolated from the hive. There had always been a fellow solider when on patrol. There had always been an infiltrator to check with when working in high risk pony-filled environments. Someone she could communicate with, check with, compare her performance with, or gain an opinion from. Here? Just ponies. The beings she needed to feed on and disguise herself from. The only real moment of comfort she had was that first meeting and even that had carried several risks. Everything else... it was unbearable. She had to keep weighing the risks from the big to the small. She couldn't just focus on combat effectiveness. At least that she knew with no doubts. And yet here, even combat wasn't certain. Fighting last night meant that she paid the risk of getting herself exposed. Even if she had been trying her best to adapt, it would be meaningless if in the end she expired anyway. She wasn't meant to take on all these roles at once, no changeling was, except maybe the all-powerful queen. And even the queen had been dispatched. The soldier stared out the window, at the still full daylight outside. Just keep playing the waiting game. Just keep being stuck in her own thoughts as she waited for her stomach to settle or for night to fall.

Looking down at the few books on her table, it made the soldier think of that disconnect between her and the ponies. She could speak with them, but this communication of markings was beyond her. The only changelings she knew of who could interpret these were those who needed to, infiltrators and leaders. Flopping open the first book she had tried, she stared intensely at the text, wondering if maybe there was just some instinctual part to the text that she did not get. Nothing came though. She couldn't read this – she didn't belong in this place, didn't belong in this pseudo-infiltration role she'd been forced to take. She needed her home, needed the place where she fit in, did not need to question the odds.

“Dusty?”

The soldier looked up from her thoughts, meeting the eyes of the doctor, Bones.

“Yes?” she answered simply. Unfortunately, she knew this wasn't something simple. She could sense his unease, his feelings of uncertainty and suspicion.

“May I talk to you for a moment?” he asked.

The soldier nodded. She would rather not need to talk, but there seemed no reasonable way to turn this down. She could feel how much he needed to do this, to ask, and halting his desire to talk would not make the situation any better. Oddly though, he did not go right into it after he sat down. Instead, he just seemed to stew for a moment in a maelstrom of emotion. Eventually though, he reached out and grasped at something.

“You're a soldier, right?” he asked, “I mean, Cameo's mentioned how you'll say explicitly that.”

“I am, yes,” she stated.

“Alright,” he muttered, a bit of that convection in his mind settling into place, “Are ya... are ya in active service? Or are you discharged?”

“I am – I should be in active service.”

“Why ain't you in a platoon or squad then? What happened?”

As always, the soldier reached into her thoughts to try and find an appropriate response that told enough truth to not seem obviously lying while not giving away the damning truth.

“I was in a battle with other soldiers. We thought we were winning. The enemy found a way to push us back. Literally sent us flying. I woke up in the desert.”

The soldier thought she noticed a figurative click in Bones' thoughts. Perhaps he was finally realizing what was happening, what she was. Oh well, it wasn't as though she had heavy chances of survival anyway.

“And since then, you've just been going... nowhere?” Bones asked.

“I've been trying to find my way home.”

“Where's your home?”

“I don't know.”

“Dusty, please don't lie to me,” Bones said, a mixture of frustration and desperation in his voice.

“I honestly don't know,” the soldier glanced down out the window, “Somewhere east. I don't know the specifics. I've just been trying to go by what little I remember, been trying to remember directions from memory.”

There was another uncomfortable silence as Bones again sat in his thoughts while the soldier thought on what time was left, realized how much her chances of survival had dwindled. She began to wonder if maybe the next town over, Dodge, had been figuratively shut down as well. Or if maybe they had been clued into the changelings already. The equestrian train system covered a lot, the soldier felt that she could remember that fact with certainty.

“Dusty, what are you a soldier of?”

He knew. There was no questioning it by now. If he didn't know for certainty, he had a strong suspicion at least, which ultimately made no difference because what was happening was clear. He was pulling back the layers and revealing her for her true nature.

“Dusty, tell me.”

“Those who provide for me,” she stated.

Bones' face crinkled. A shot of anger flowed up through the eye of those feelings.

“Stop jerking me around, and tell me exactly.”

No more hiding. No more point to it. Just drop the defenses. Bones' eyes went wide as a black, curved horn emerged from the soldier's forehead, and a spark of green, fire-like magic swept down from her head and washed over her being, exposing the truth underneath. A disturbing hybrid of insect and equine. Bones was immediately on his hooves and backing up into the wall at what was now looking at him, his body flush with the feelings of the fight-or-flight instinct.

“I am a soldier of the changeling hive,” she stated, her raspy, natural voice coming through.

“Y-you really – you really did feed on their souls then...” Bones said, terrified.

“No. Just their emotions. They were filled with hate, fear, and violence though. That is not good.”

It was strange... The soldier knew she was exposed. She was basically done. Her life was forfeit by this point. The feeling of fear coming off Bones was bitter and distasteful. And yet, she felt a strange sort of peace with herself.

“You... you feed on emotions then?” Bones asked. Why was curiosity starting to beocm a primary emotion.

“Yes. It was the nature, the goal of the battle. We were going to replace your sun princess and feed on your kind's love and adoration for her.”

There was the fear, the outrage winning out.

“Why – why would you do that?” Bones demanded.

“Because that is how we live. We spent so long in the shadows, tried to come out of hiding in what was meant to be a last, glorious conflict that guaranteed we would never be hungry again, instead of what could be garnered from infiltrating your kind in secret.”

Bones choked on his words as he tried to think of a response, any proper way to truly come to terms with what was happening.

“But then how – if you're here – you said you lost!”

“We did.”

“Then why are you telling me this?”

“Because there's no further point in deception.”

Bones hung in silence for a moment. He seemed to think he was close to the truth, so the soldier indulged him anyway.

“There was no plan for if we lost. I've been trying to go back to the original colony, the original point for the hive. I don't even know if anything awaits me there. And with the information you've given, I'm not certain if it's possible for me to even get that far,” she stated.

And now, it that mix of emotions, there came a stream of pity, which in itself seemed to be confusing the pony. There only seemed to be one certainty.

“You don't think you will live. Don't have anything to live for.”

“I am a soldier. I am meant to follow the will of the hive and defend it. I cannot live without it – not for long.”

“But, you,” Bones stumbled with his words, a mix of a feeling of satisfaction and frustration at what he was told, “Okay, so, you can die, yeah, fine. But what if – I don't know, what if you just kept doing what you are doing now? I mean you've been able to live here at least a short time, right? And no one has been hurt by your feeding, the headaches aside, obviously. And you can be a soldier for us, you've helped us out so far!”

“It's only a matter of time until your leaders send a representative here to inform all of you ponies of what happened. And even if that doesn't happen...”

The soldier stood up from her bed. Bones' muscles jumped as he held back the urge to bolt. As she took a few steps forward, she found herself awash in more of that bitter fear.

“That feeling you experience right now – it is what we inspire in you all. I bring you terror, fear, and hate. I cannot live on that. I am no infiltrator either. I would make a mistake. I already have made my mistakes.”

“So, but...”

“I need my hive. I need my orders, my direction, my purpose. I am meant to be a soldier within the hive – I am at my most efficient when I fulfill that role and am supported by the rest.”

Bones stopped for a moment. There was still confusion, but there seemed to almost be a strange sense of certainty within him.

“Fight for those who provide for you huh...” he mumbled, looking away for the barest of moments before looking back at the soldier, “You really don't value your life, do you?”

“I don't value it because it has none, objectively speaking,” the soldier stated.

“But – but Dusty...”

“My name isn't Dusty,”

Bones looked at her, a little confused for a moment before he realized it was another falsehood in the end.

“What is it?”

“I don't have a name.”

Once more, a look of confusion.

“You... you have to have a name. How else would you be called, or be referred to?”

“I do not. I am a soldier. That is all that I am called. That is all that I need to be called.”

Bones once again found himself wrangling that mix of emotions.

“So close, and yet so far...” he muttered, before shaking his head, “You – I don't know though, there's gotta be someway of helping you though, right? Maybe we can be your... hive. I mean, sure we'd all be scared as blazes of ya, but maybe we could get used to you, over time? We could explain to the ponies at Canterlot you ain't a bad egg, and, and – it'd work out somehow.”

The soldier took more steps forward, backing Bones into the corner. Her eyes were so close to his. With no discernible points of irises or pupils in her blue changeling eyes, it was particularly disturbing to the doctor.

“You are not my hive. None of you in this town are. You cannot hope to replace the connection that exists within it. The ability to communicate without words, the order, the certainty. The only way you can help me is to feed me. And right now, the bitter taste of your fear overrides everything else.”

“But...” Bones gritted his teeth, “There's more in me than that, I know you've done good by us...”

“And yet it doesn't take a precedent over the truth. Over what you feel now. That... pity... doesn't mean anything against the fear.”

The two's eyes remained locked for an intense moment as Bones mulled over what was being said while the soldier continued to observe his emotional state. The fear still remained. The sound of a bell outside broke Bone's attention just long enough for him to glance outside. The soldier did so as well, expecting to see someone peeking in, but there were none. There did appear to be some ponies running down the street from one direction.

“The alarm, but why...” Bones muttered.

The soldier broke off from her closeness to Bones to look out the window, further down the direction everyone was fleeing from. Six ponies were strolling down the street, three of which the soldier recognized from her first confrontation in this area.

“Scornful,” she stated simply, “And five others”

“But if he's already back up – Celestia, I knew he was tough but I'd hoped...”

“A decent combatant does not require a long time to recover,” the soldier remarked, her eyes not taken off of the earth pony in the distance.

“What, do you admire him?” Bones asked incredulously.

“No. He disrupts order. I do not like that,” the soldier noted.

“Hello, citizens of Apploosa!” Scornful shouted from down the street, “I hear you have a very interesting mare staying with you, one I might have a quarrel with.”

“What are you going to do?” Bones asked, looking between the direction of Scornful's voice and the soldier, who stared on at the outlaw from within the shade of the clinic.

“You got a lot of nerve comin' back, Scornful,” said a familiar voice.

The form of Silverstar stepped out into the street, staring down the offending ponies.

“You ain't laying a hoof on anyone in this town!” he shouted with determination, scuffing up some dirt underhoof before charging.

The soldier watched on as the sheriff fought valiantly, but numbers quickly won out, even as other town ponies joined in on the fight. They were quickly beat back, put in their figurative place.

“Can't you do anything to help us? Please...”

The soldier stared at Bones as he made his request.

“Why?”

“Because – because it's the right thing to do?” he pleaded, but looking at the changeling's impassive expression he knew the plea did not reach, “Just, look, I know we ain't your hive, but we could use your help, and if you feel like the only thing you're good for is fightin' just... Maybe ponies would accept you, maybe not, but...”

Bones finally took a step forward and, despite a fresh wash of fear, took a hold of her hoof and held it to his chest. Even as the bitter fear dripped away from his being, something else beat underneath it.

“I want you to belong, okay? I want you to stick around. I know I'm scared to death of you but I don't want you to leave. There's too many ponies – too many beings in general that have a hard time finding a place to fit in, thinking they got no where else to go, won't believe anyone who tells them otherwise. But if you can really tell what I'm thinking, then you know I'm damn well telling the truth!” Bones insisted, face contorted in a mixture of frustration and sorrow. And yet, he was telling the truth. Beneath that fear, there it laid, “So please, help...”

The sound of the melee outside drew the soldier's attention once more. Grunts, cries of pain, all of them a sign of the sacrifice the town ponies brave enough to fight. The soldier looked back at Bones. The feelings were genuine, all of them, from the negatives to the positive. Bones really did think and want for her to be here. And yet, the soldier, for all her desire to have something, to have that belonging, she couldn't shake that she could ever truly have what the doctor's heart promised.

The changeling leaned forward, crossing her horn with Bones'. She was going to die either way, so why was she indulging this? She began the feeding, taking on those positive emotions and watching as the unicorn fell to the ground. Her hunger was slightly abated. But to what end, if she was going to die eventually? The soldier started to walk out the door, applying her “Dusty” guise, and started to walk down the street, towards where the fight had gone on, the outlaws clearly on the side of victory as they kicked some of the downed ponies.

“Well, well, at long last she shows herself,” Scornful smirked.

Dusty stared at Scornful. Her chances of coming out of this alive were slim. She was already injured the previous night, and she had yet to make a recovery.

“I've been lookin' forward to this – no more tricks this time. Got you wide out in the open.”

Little tactical advantage. There were the buildings yes, but they ultimately led to possibilities for dead ends and being flanked. This would be a flat out question of how long she'd survive, not if she'd survive, all things considered.

“Any last words, missy?”

The soldier's eyes stopped looking around and assessing the situation, fixing back on Scornful. This would be her last battle, there was no question about it. Perhaps it was best, she would fall in the role she was meant to play. It would have perhaps been more satisfying to fall at Canterlot, but then fate it seemed wasn't feeling so kind.

“I am not 'missy'. I am a soldier,” she stated, “I fight because that is what I am best at. It is how I contribute. I defend those who seek to bring nourishment. I defend those who work to maintain the infrastructure of the hive. I defend them from outside threats, as well as from irregulars within.”

The illusion of Dusty faded, leaving bare the changeling to the outlaws. Looks that were either confused or amused by her choice of words became fear and repulsion.

“I will defend until I die.”

The green, flame-like magic of changelings flared up around the soldier. She no longer hung onto the objective of survival. What little energy was left in her body, mostly from Bones, burned throughout her. As the soldier leapt into battle, her muscles tensed harder, hitting with greater force and greater speed than ever before. Even as vital and hurt portions of her body were struck, she ignored the pain, her mind focused and tunneled only upon the fight, and going out the way she lived. The cries of pain form the outlaws were dull to her ears, only an indication that she had registered a hit in her addled mind. The energy, the magic suffusing through her body was starting to feel more and more like literal fire as she pushed herself beyond her limits. Literal steam started to rise out of her horn as glowed brilliantly, trying to output the excess heat and magic even as she breathed hard, her lungs attempted to do the same task. A small crack started to develop in the side of the hard horn. Everything started to become a blur. The heat even in the changeling's head was starting to work against her as she began to loose reason, lashing out at anything vaguely pony-shaped that came close. Eventually, it was as though the entire world just became a blur. The blur eventually faded into nothing. The tension and the dulled pain faded with the light.

The soldier no longer felt disconnected from her hive.

I Am A Soldier [Nanowrimo]

by GreyVestibule

Chapter 1 - The Desert

Chapter 2 - The Town and Concern

Chapter 3 - The Doctor

Chapter 4 - The Dream and the Past

Chapter 5 - The Likeness

Chapter 6 - The Question and the Meeting

Chapter 7 - The Escape

Chapter 8 - The Reason and the Investigation

Chapter 9 - The Confrontation

Epilogue