//------------------------------//
// The Bug 
// Story: Flight 
// by wkblack 
//------------------------------//

Tears refused to come to Canary's eyes. Her wings had lost nearly all their plumage and were little more than pink nubs now. A few feathers peeked out from her muscle—waxy black shafts like needles. Feathers grow back—the words felt empty. It doesn't matter how many feathers you have if you can't fly.
She hadn't seen Echo for days, since he'd stormed out from her cell. What if they found out he was talking to me? What if they punished him? It's been days, and my only friend in this prison is gone. Images of Iris torturing him infested her mind. If she so much as lays a hoof on him…
Click.
Canary looked behind her with worried hope. A light behind the figure covered its face in shadow, making it impossible to identify them. Then the deep green eyes shot open.
“Echo! Thank goodness! I thought something had happened to you!”
The guard moved forward into the light, saying nothing. Something was different about him, though she couldn't quite nail it. He isn't carrying the pot. Her eyes grew wide when she saw what he carried instead. The bridle.
“Echo! What are you doing! What is that!”
Again he was silent. He stared at the floor as he lifted the bridle up to her face.
“Stop!” Canary bit the incoming bridle, wrenched it from his hooves and threw it to the ground. “What are you doing‽”
Echo looked at the ground below him—not batting an eyelid.
“Echo!”
The guard crumpled to the ground. “I can't do it! I can't!” Echo covered his face with his wings and wept.
Canary tilted her head. “Echo?”
She frowned, unsure of how to comfort the bat.
After a minute of sobbing, the bat lifted one wing from his face, revealing his puffy red eyes. “I can't do this. I'm so tired of being a lackey for the bats. I don't want to be here anymore.”
Canary stared in shock at the bat. Her expression softened as she watched him weep.
“It's okay.”
Echo pulled a wing away from his face and yelled, “No! It's not okay! I—I was going to torture you!” He curled back under his wing and sobbed, “I am a monster.”
Canary frowned. “No. You're not. You're my only friend here, and I—” Canary bit her lip. “—I don't want to lose you!”
The bat looked up.
“You never even laid a hoof on me! I don't think you ever could!”
Echo sighed. “But you don't really know me. I really am a monster.”
Canary snorted in frustration. “Stop saying that! Why do you think you're such a monster‽”
His frown deepened as he climbed to his hooves.
“Because—”
Emerald flames enveloped the bat in a tight circle. His grey coat burned away, revealing a shiny black beneath and a blood red shell. His midnight blue wings burned into stiff insectoid wings and his cat-like eyes were replaced by the flat eye of an insect, in the same reflective red as his shell. Though the creature before her was equine in shape, the finned mane and stubby horn on its forehead made Canary's head jolt back in surprise. Her eyes were full moons, inspecting the creature.
“—I am a monster.”
What in Avondale is that‽ She only managed to squeak out “Oh.”
The bug took a step towards her. “I'm a changeling. It's because of me that the Cloud found you. It's because of me that you're in here. Because of me your friends are in here! Because of me! I'm the real monster here—a thousand times worse than Iris—and it's eating me alive!”
No sound came from Canary's open mouth.
Eyes narrowing, he grew louder. “And yet you still like me! It doesn't make sense! How can you still care about me now that you know what I am‽” He paused to breathe. “You said it yourself: How can you love a monster!”
A blush crossed Canary's face—she hadn't realized how attached she'd grown. He knows my emotions better than I do.
“WHY DO YOU NOT HATE ME‽”
Canary searched for an answer. “Because… you're my friend. You matter just as much as I do—”
“No I don't! I should rot in Tartarus for what I've done!” Tears formed under Echo's eyes.
“If it's your fault I'm in here, then why have you been so nice to me? You obviously feel something, or you wouldn't be in the state you are now.”
Echo blinked in realization. He opened his mouth to respond, but words wouldn't come. The bug creature leaned in and kissed her. Canary jolted back, leaving the changeling hanging in space. A blush crept onto his face as he opened his mouth to say something, but the echo of voices drew his attention. Emerald flames surrounded him again as he returned to his usual form and bolted from the room without looking back. The door locked shut behind him.
Canary stared at the stalactites before her in shock. He kissed me. Her mind was doing backflips, trying to synthesize the new information. Her last moments of freedom kept coming to mind: sipping chamomile tea in the kitchen, Blitz calling for her at the door, Cloud guards entering right behind him… Could that have been Echo? Canary furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Blitz used to be an acolyte of the bats—she'd always worried he might betray them. But he changed. He was one of us.
	Still, Echo wouldn't have done that—would he?
 

« ~ »

 
A hundred questions whirled around Canary's mind.
What in Avondale just happened?
	What's a changeling?
	How could he feel my emotions?
	Does he really like me?
	How did Echo get the Storm captured?
	How did he get to be a guard for the Storm anyway?
	Why is he still working for the bats?
	Did Echo really get the entire Storm into prison?
	Are they still alive?
	Would he tell me?
	Is Echo even really his name?
When Echo entered the room, her questions burst like water from a dam.
out all at once.
“One at a time!” he begged.
“Who are you‽”
“Echo.”
Canary rolled her eyes. “No! Who are you really? Who is Echo?”
The guard looked down. “It's complicated.”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
Echo collected his thoughts for a moment. “It all started when we were out on a hunt.” Seeing her confusion he added, “'We' being a cluster of changelings—we hunt for emotions.”
Canary frowned. “What does that mean?”
“We feed off of the emotions around us. We can eat any emotions, but only love really satisfies us for long—other emotions are snacks in comparison.”
“So… you eat emotions? How does that work?”
Echo shook his head. “It's not eating, really. It's like how standing in the sun makes you warm—being around emotions makes us full.”
“So what do you feel right now?”
Echo shrugged. “Mostly curiosity and confusion.” He smiled. “A touch of love.” As Canary blushed, he added, “and embarrassment.” As Canary's face grew darker, he laughed lightly. “That's why I don't tell others their emotions—they get self-conscious and stop loving as much.”
“So you were on a hunt,” Canary said, eager to change topics.
Echo obliged. “Right. We were moving through the forest, heading towards a town, when we started sensing a feeling: pain. But there was also a touch of apology and love mixed in, so we went off to investigate. The feeling came from a pile of branches, so we turned into leatherwings and started to dig.”
He tapped his chin. “In hindsight, we should have been more cautious. Considering we felt pain, there could have been some beast hiding in the branches, or some trap that was sprung, but we weren't afraid enough to think of it.
“Anyway, we threw off the branches and uncovered an entire troop of noctal guards lying in a ditch, including an emerald-eyed leatherwing. Deep wounds lacerated his chest and poured out blood. As bad as he was, the others were worse: mutilated beyond recognition. He was the only one left breathing—the only one left emoting.
“He croaked out that a monster had ambushed their squad and asked us to tell NightFlower what had happened.”
Canary tilted her head. “NightFlower?”
Echo nodded. “His wife. When he said the name, we could feel how he felt for her. Love, lust, affection—there's a unique feeling between spouses. It was a golden opportunity—it's every changeling's dream to enter such a relationship. Since I was the one to find him, I was the one to take his place.”
Canary reddened. “She doesn't notice‽”
“Didn't,” he corrected her. “Since we can sense emotions, we're relatively good at knowing what niche we need to fill. If they expect a hug, we give one. If they expect a compliment, we give one. Changelings were built to be the perfect lovers. Plus I could play the amnesia card.”
“Okay, but you said didn't. How did she find out?”
“She never did find out,” Echo winced, glancing backwards. “About a year ago, she—she fell very sick. I—I couldn't do anything to save her.” His head dropped. “We had been so happy together, it crushed me to see the dream die. I should have been used to it, since most relationships changelings have are temporary—”
Canary raised an eyebrow.
“Ours is different though,” Echo assured her, “I'm not just feeding off of you—I legitimately like you! And from the inside out, not just mirroring the love you have for me. I'm still not sure how that's working…
“Anyway,” he continued, “I didn't have much of an identity to start with, being a drone, but being with NightFlower changed everything. I had a purpose in life. I wanted to be the real Echo so we could be together forever.” His smile melted away.
“When she died… I began to grey (I was running out of emotions), but I was so heartbroken that I didn't realize it was happening.”
Canary frowned. “But don't you feed off everyone's emotions?”
Echo smiled at her concern. “Usually. But I stopped feeling things after NightFlower… I couldn't think straight—I was working like a mindless insect, only going on out of habit.” His lips drew taught. “The hunger hurt, but losing NightFlower hurt more.”
“I'm sorry,” Canary whispered.
Echo nodded. “The longer I went without food, the less control I had over my shapeshifting. About a moon ago, I accidentally transformed in front of the other guards—I thought they'd throw me out, but Fenwing had other plans for me.”
He paused in his narrative, sensing Canary's increased curiosity.
“About that,” she began, “why did you say it's your fault my friends were captured?”
As the guard opened his mouth to respond, the wooden echo of a distant door sounded through the cave. “I'll tell you later,” he assured her.
Canary frowned. Because of the guard changes, she could never get more than a few minutes with him at once. If he really likes me, she thought, why doesn't he get me out of here?
She shook her head. It didn't matter. His visits made the torture bearable. It was a known in a sea of unknowns—something she could latch onto.
	They can never break me.
But Echo didn't come the next day.
Nor the next.
Days passed like an unending nightmare, with each torture dimming her hope. She felt like a toothpick holding up an elephant, that the slightest breeze would make her snap.
Each day brought a hundred new fears.
	Was he moved to a different prison?
Days passed.
Did he really like me? Did I do something wrong?
Weeks passed.
	Did he find someone else?
Canary shook her head. It doesn't matter. Escape is what matters.
	The upside of solitude, Canary thought one day, is the focus it gives you. As she planned her escape, she realized how little she knew about changelings. What else can he turn into? A monster? A bird? A shadow? A key? If so… Canary etched a hundred plans on the walls of her mind, detailing her escape.
One day, he will return. One day, I will escape.