Changling story excerpt 2

Sometimes I think I can write, then I try. This is one of those trying times.

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It was all too much for me. If I didn't get out of here soon I might just go insane. Or more sane, I'm not too sure anymore. I looked on into the yelling and chaos. It was either they had to go or i did and I didn't have any way of communicating with them, let alone convince them. Taking nothing, I left the bakery.

There were no cries of alarm or panicked hurrying about as I made my way down the street. It seemed that my presence at the library had done wonders for my public image. The local pony population seemed to be mostly placated by my presence. It didn't stop them from staring as I passed, but it was better than abject terror.

I didn't know where I was going. I didn't have any specific destination in mind. I wasn't even looking for anything in particular. I just had to get away from all the yellng, hurt feelings, and drama. I ambled slowly down one street, then across another. Past shops that soon gave way to houses, then open fields, and far beyond them lay the mountains. I wasn't going as far as the mountian range, but somewhere not too far ahead had caught my eye.

From where I was I could see a small grassy hill topped with a single leafy tree which seemed to overlook the town. A quiet, shady spot wth a nice view may be just what I needed to clear my mind and the ringing in my ears. I made my way out of pony town and into the wilderness beyond.

I made my way up the grassy knoll, following what looked to be a well worn dirt path. The way the dusty trail wound around small boulders suggested to me the path was from natural hoof falls, a trail of convenience, than something built artificially to serve a purpose.

The top of the hill offered no great surprise either. Everything appeared as I had seen it from the distance. No cobblestone patio or wooden benches, just a flat grassy expance under a single tree. I was no arborist but with the white and black bark, and dusty-green oval leaves, the tree resembled a berch. Someone must have come here often to take care of it because it couldn't have been more that twelve feet tall. From what I remember, most species easily grow taller than thirty.

I made my way over to the tree and sat against its trunk in a shady spot beneath it. The cool summer breeze, the fresh air. It was nice sitting here under the tree. This spot seem magical. Not the unicorn type of magic, the metaphorical type.

I wasn't the only one out and about this evening. High above me, some Pegasi were pushing around some semi-solid clouds. Seeing a few of the clouds lazily drift away on the air current, which would cause more work for the winged ponies, made me feel a little better. Even with many combined years of practice and experience, all it took was a nudge from a little wind to undo their labour.

It appeared that I had been followed. My Queen would know how to find me, which she usually does when I least expect it, but who saw wasn't her. Coming up from the same path I used to leave Ponyville was one of her friends. She was a butter-yellow pegasus with a long pink mane that frequently fell across one eye. Her cutiemark was a trio of butterflies, if I remembered correctly.

She approached parallel to me slowly and cautiously, her eyes never breaking contact from mine. She seemed to be sizing me up. As she neared, she slowed until her hoof-falls placed her about five paces away.