A changeling held up a picture of a fence to the ponies passing by on the dirt road in the middle of a vast swath of grass. The ponies gave him a declining hoof and they went on their merry way.
Humerus then frowned.
"Sand Side," Humerus begged on his knees, having that desperate position on the wooden floor, "please, I want a fence!"
The yellow pony looked around him—shelves of power tools and construction materials. "Why do you need a fence? I'm just very curious—I've never had a changeling ask me for a fence before, so I assumed you didn't require any."
"But, if I don' get a fence, then—then—"
"You're just becoming hysterical over something trivial," Sand Side said, patting the changeling on the head. "If you want to buy some equipment to help you build a fence, then I'd be more than willing to assist you. But, I'm not going to go out there and sweat all the details in making a fence for you."
"But, they also want—"
"I don't know who 'they' are, but you must've misunderstood what they're saying if you think they're telling you to buy or make a fence based on that picture of yours," Sand Side said, picking the picture up from the ground. "I admit, it's a pretty standard fence—white picket fence."
"So, will you make—"
"No. I'm sorry, but we're limited to only selling you what you need to make a fence; we're not here to make a fence for you becase that's not our expertise."
Humerus's eyes watered; whimpers could be heard.
"Oh, come on! You're not going to cry because you're not going to get yourself a fence, are you? But—here, don't worry." He stooped down to his level and patted him on the back.
The changeling remained silent, his eyes half-open as the tears were held back. Finally, he spoke: "B-but...I could...I w-want to..."
"So, what I'm going to teach you is called 'guerrilla gardening,'" Thorax began as he stood in front of rows of changelings seated on no seats but the mostly rocky ground. Behind him was a cragged wall that curved the sunlight into something that beheld the audience with its ethereal, unholdable rays. "I know, it sounds very weird, maybe even dangerous. But, don't worry—it's completely innocent, if not a bit unexpected for those who, uh, aren't expecting it."
He gave an awkward smile before continuing.
"So, you may be asking yourself, 'What is guerrilla gardening?'"
A changeling raised his hoof.
"Yes, Ecto?"
"But, I'm not asking myself that," the changeling declared.
Thorax scrunched his face. "Uh, that is why I added the word 'may' because I can't tell if you are asking yourself. It's a qualifier."
Ecto nodded his head and lowered his hoof.
"Alright, I'll just tell you what guerrilla gardening is. Guerrilla gardening is gardening in places other than your own home. You might be saying to yourself, 'But, Thorax, that's illegal!' First, as your King, I declare it to not be illegal in the Changeling Hive."
"So, you're saying that it's legal now?" Ecto asked, raising his hoof again.
"Yes, Ecto. It's legal."
"Now?"
"Now."
"Not later."
"Not later, Ecto."
"As in, I can just plant a plant now?"
"Why not?"
And Ecto made a shallow hole on the dirt inside the plant pot he just brought out and planted a budding tulip on it. He patted the dirt, flattening it and then brought a watering can and doused the flower in generous measures of water. He placed the watering can on the ground and smiled a content smile.
The rest of the changelings, including Thorax, looked surprised at that act. "I...didn't know you were that prepared."
"I happened to have a pot and a flower at hoof."
Thorax nodded his head. "You were almost correct, but you bought the pot yourself. Right? I hope you didn't steal it."
"I bought the pot myself."
"And, you picked the tulip from some public pathway here?'
Ecto nodded.
"So, that's not guerrilla gardening."
"OK, why?"
"You bought the pot so it's your property. You're not planting it somewhere outside of your property."
Ecto nodded again. "I see. I have made a potted plant, though, so I am happy with myself on that front."
Then, every changeling's gaze was now upon Thorax again.
A bit of silence between the king and his subjects.
"To help you understand guerrilla gardening more, I'll tell you why ponies usually participate in guerrilla gardening. Some do it because they want to—maybe it's their talent. There is no questioning with that. Some do it on accident—maybe they planted some trees a bit too far away from their lawn and it's already growing in someone else's lawn. Some do it because they want to send a signal to a pony in authority—and they want to send it in a way other than words. Some do it to spruce up their local community; and, who doesn't like that?
"Guerrilla gardening, beyond that, is up to you. You could go out and plant whatever as long as it's not something poisonous or toxic. Also, please don't annoy others while you're guerrilla gardening."
The changelings then erupted into a clamor of questions, suggestions, and exclamations all mixed up into nonsense. There weren't that many arguments—just a flood of too many statements directed at the overwhelmed Thorax as he was being approached by more than several changelings.
"Uh, could you calm down?" Thorax ordered in a shy way. "I can't hear what you're saying if you're all speaking at the same time, guys!"
The changelings quieted down and stayed where they were.
More silence.
"Phew!" Thorax wiped the sweat off of his face. "Let's try to have some sort of line here, OK? Actually—no, not a line. That's too strict. Alright, what about everyone huddle up together around me—that way, all of you will feel nice and cozy and friendly with each other as you tell me and the rest of us here what you have to say about this new thing."
And, so they did. The changelings shuffled, shifted, or shimmied their way to random places around the king. Chatter rose from the formation of a changeling circle, talk being their first thoughts and impressions about guerrilla gardening—unbuilt yet said, anyway.
Then, they finally sat down, all of them.
Quiet once more.
"Let's start with you, Cornicle!" Thorax said, pointing at the blue changeling who was raising his hoof.
Cornicle gave a big grin. He stood up. "Where did you get that idea, Thorax?"
"Well, I got it when I went to Canterlot last week and noticed that some ponies wearing hats were planting some foiliage at a park. I thought they were the park's gardeners so I asked them how their job was going for them. One of them told me—Wellington, I think—that they weren't the park's gardeners but they were some tourists from Trottingham. He then told me that, back when he was a colt, he planted more than a hundred cabbages in his home town in the middle of a huge vacant lot. Nopony there, uh, expected it and ponies from all over the region and even from the rest of Equestria travelled to see the Wellington Cabbages of Trottingham. When it was time to harvest the cabbages, the entire city celebrated with a large festival filled with music and food and parties and other kinds of activities. After he told the story, Wellington told me to read up on the subject of guerrilla gardening at the local library, and that's what I did. Did you know that, though nopony knows who was the first to do that, it was a pony named 'Apple—'"
Then, he covered his mouth.
"Uh, I think I went on too far on that line of thought. So, anyone else?"
A few more raised their hooves.
Humerus arrived at the hive, passing through stony, rough walls and their lovely, graceful vines and moss and bushes and other plants. His ears were flayed, his head was hanging, and his face was downcast.
The changeling passed by several more who were busy with their potted plants. Preparing the pot, bringing dirt inside the pot, planting the plant, watering it—all of this was taking place inside the hive and all of this Humerus did not take notice of as he walked in that somber, sober gait.
"Oh, Humerus!" Thorax said, turning away from his plot of flowers and looking at the changeling in question. "You're late for guerrilla gardening! Where's the rest of your friends? I'll explain it all later, but I'll teach you and—"
Then, Thorax's smile disappeared.
"Oh. You're not that excited are you?"
Humerus glumly shook his head, eyes closed.
"That doesn't sound so good." He beckoned him with a hoof. "Here. Come here and tell me what's wrong, Humerus."
And Humerus stepped his way there. Then, he sat down beside the seated Thorax.
"What's going on?" Thorax asked in a quiet, caring voice. "Did someone hurt you or punch you? Did you hurt yourself?"
Humerus shook his head.
"Did somepony not accept you wanting to be his friend?"
Humerus shook his head.
"Then, what's wrong?"
Silence.
A whimper. A sniffle.
Thorax held his shoulder. "Are...are you going to...?"
Then, Humerus cried. He lunged himself into a despondent hug, embracing Thorax with arms and tears.
Thorax opened his mouth, not saying anything as he looked on at the sky with a look of sympathy.
Of sorrow.
"Let it out," Thorax whispered, his gaze still skyward. "Let it out. Don't hide it—let it all out, Humerus."
The crying went on, turning into a howling that pierced whatever semblance of normalcy was left. This was no respecting outburst—this was a bitter mourning, a wailing of dismay as tears flowed down his drenched face, oceans of agony in those tears.
The changelings gardening stopped and looked. Their happy faces were gone, instead replaced with faces of shock. All held their shovels and other gardening tools, not moving any of them as they watched him sob.
It was a still moment, a moment broken by the misery.
"It's going to be alright, Humerus," Thorax said, patting Humerus on the head. "It's going to be alright. Everything is going to be OK. We'll work it out—just tell us what happened."
But Humerus did not tell him what happened. Instead, he continued his grief, flooding the air with that expression of his affliction.
Thorax looked at the sobbing changeling.
Thorax hung his own head down.
A small secluded place. Filled with sunlight although no one was in view. Out there, past the short wall, an enormous territory of arid brown ground, the rest of the what surrounded the hive.
The only ones there were Thorax, Humerus, Blue Alarm, Red Noise, and Neon Guard—the latter three watching their friend crying.
"How did this happen?" Neon Guard asked, having a surprise's trace. "I saw him earlier this morning and he was OK. He was chipper and his usual self."
"That's the thing," Thorax said. "It's not his usual self." He looked at the still sobbing changeling. "Humerus, your friends are already here. Tell whatever you want to tell to them—it'll never be solved unless you tell them."
Humerus gave him a glance. Then, he turned around to see his friends.
Not one of them was smiling. Even Red Noise had an open mouth, displaying only a confused sadness.
"Humerus, we're not going to be mad at you if you let us know what's bothering you," Blue Alarm said, walking to him and placing a hoof around his head. "We've been through ups and downs before, and we'll not let this problem get the better of you, Humerus."
He sniffed and wiped away a tear from his struggling eyes. "Y-you will?"
Blue Alarm nodded.
So did Neon Guard and Red Noise.
"T-then, i-its about—" A choking of tears "—it's a-about—I thought—my t-time, going away!"
Everyone else looked at each other, giving each other solemn yet puzzled looks.
"You don't have to go away," Red Noise spoke up, walking to his friend and placing a firm hoof on his shoulder. "Besides, you can also go wherever you want to go with us."
"I-it's not that!" Humerus managed past the whimpers. "The past—I can never ch-change!"
"Hm?" Neon Guard then walked to him, now standing beside Blue Alarm and Red Noise. "What's with the past? Is there something wrong with—"
"I've wasted time!" Humerus shouted, his voice cracking. "Those thoughts—I regret a-all that I've done for Chrysalis—am I t-too late to say that? I've heard o-others talk—cry—but I th-thought that I would just s-stay happy and have f-fun!"
Silence. Listening.
"H-how old am I?"
Silence.
"How old am I?!"
"Twenty-three," Red Noise spoke, shivering a little.
"I've lived twenty-three years of my l-life, most of them under a deception! A lie! At l-least o-others were j-just minding their o-own business—I wanted w-what the ponies had. You know—I k-kept quiet about it, but it dragged me to anguish j-just thinking about the m-many things ponies could do—and t-they a-always smiled—h-happy! W-when I h-heard y-you, Thorax—a-abandoning the h-hive—I shed a t-tear, hoping you w-would s-save us! I also k-knew you were e-experiencing everything ponies had to o-offer—f-freedom, peace, everything! I kept wanting and yearning for it, d-dreaming but it w-wasn't even the d-dreams that Princess L-Luna gives—just d-daydreaming, l-longing for that day e-even though I th-thought you w-would never come back. I d-didn't want to l-lose hope—i-infiltration m-made me think o-of those we were s-stealing from—I s-saw all they owned with th-their houses and their j-joy. B-but, what did I do? Evil! I kn-knew th-there wasn't something r-right about what w-we were doing—was i-it the ponies' voices? Or, w-was it just m-me, knowing a-above all t-that—bad!"
Flailed arms.
"I've wasted almost twenty-three years of my life trapped b-by her! At the b-back of m-my mind, I knew—I knew—that th-there is something b-better than doing this g-great evil on innocent cr-creatures who d-did n-nothing w-wrong t-to us! W-why w-were we always hungry? I kn-know n-now, but I didn't b-back then—I a-asked! The p-ponies never got h-hungry in m-my e-eyes! I sh-should've s-seen—she was never h-hungry a-and—and—and—"
Descent to crying; covered eyes, streaming rivers of tears.
And that was the only sound that they heard. No hoofsteps, no buzzing or flapping of wings, no cart or wagon wheels creaking and rolling, no words at all.
Only crying.
A tear went down Thorax's cheek.
Blue Alarm's face had a few drops of tears. So did Neon Guard.
Red Noise—his eyes were watery, open mouth though the only sound that came out of his mouth was a single sound—close to whimpering of his own.
Blue Alarm hugged Humerus.
Then, Red Noise.
Then, Neon Guard.
Then, Thorax.
A hug, an embrace of love, of understanding, of sympathy, of tender care.
Silent words passed by, comfort being given.
Humerus cried in that hug.
In the midst of that friendly affection, Blue Alarm made a small smile and said:
"Now I really know why you're always happy."
Months ago
Humerus was silent as he stood on a sharp crest of solid ground which overlooked the swarm of newly reformed changelings gleaming in their carapaces' nascent splendor, wings and eyes glittering and sparkling of newborn sight. Happy faces all occupied with that of smiles, grins, and beams—laughter, camaraderie, friendly revelry of hugs, hoofbumps, high-fives, hoofshakes—greetings, jokes, newly-found chat that took shape in growing forms as changelings attempted to create a real and truly chummy talk. It did not matter to them that what they were standing amidst were fragments—debris—of their home; the collapsed and shattered ruins gave way to what was, to them, a new life.
The changeling's mouth quivered, blinking his eyes rapidly and slapping himself on the face. "I-I—I must be dreaming. It can't be that simple—it's all so sudden! No—it c-can't be true! I'm just living a delusional dream—I'll wake up and it'll all be back to a horrible, terrible normal—b-but, I want this to be real." He stretched out his hoof towards the united—or, rather, reunited—mass of changelings before him, all moving about in renewed vigor and strength as could be seen by the vivid flows and actions of their hooves and bodies, a part of which was that wide smile.
"B-but—i-is it really real this time? Am I r-really awake? D-does this mean that...it's over? W-we're free?"
He looked at his green hoof—a whole hoof. The changeling turned around to see his flashy wings—whole and shiny.
"C-could this be reality? I th-think s-so!"
He turned around back to see the many happy changelings on the ground, continuing their whirl of fresh life.
A step forward, closer to the edge.
He spread his wings again.
Another step forward, now half a hoof over open air.
Humerus looked up at the sky.
It was blue, the orange clouds indicating that it was becoming late afternoon. More importantly, however, were the changelings flying free in that sky—not in restrained paths and controlled patrols but in liberating motions whether it was flittering wings' casual stroll or intense aerial tricks like a loop—or somewhere in between.
Humerus opened his mouth, grinning. His eyes were wide open in pure anticipation. His wings were already spread open.
"Whoo!"
He flew.
He was flying over the crowd of probable friends—in his mind, they were now definitely going to be certain friends. A few waved at him from below as he felt the wind's rush and heard the buzzing of his own wings—a new buzz of a rising melody, of a song only beginning in its prelude before its proper thundering introduction to be heralded not by an orchestra complete with strings, woodwind, brass, and percussion but by a harmony of similar buzzes—similar pairs of wings—joined together in the air, displaying for all to see and for all to hear that magnificent victory over a brutal past, that sight and first day's experience of exuberating liveliness—of a new life.
Humerus landed on the ground, not returning to the short cliff he was on earlier but straight on to the changeling throng. In the middle of it all—a flurry of activity—he took on a face of confusion before lightening up, smiling as he heard it all:
"Hey, Cornicle!"
"I could finally say 'Good morning' to everyone!"
"I don't feel hungry anymore! I think I'll get used to this 'sharing love' thing."
"Thorax is so cool! To act so mean to him before—"
"Where's everyone else? I want to thank those three other heroes—we should call them 'Heroes of the Changelings' along with Thorax!"
"There's so many things we can now do! Imagine it all: we can paint, we can sing, we can read adventure novels, we can just hang out with each other and—be friends!"
"Equestria really does look beautiful. I want to travel there now that I think they're going to be nice to us!"
"This joy—I can only seek to spread it even more!"
"Where are they? Now, we can be actual friends and not just buddies in the same brood. The memories we'll make together—waking up everyday to see each other's faces when we go outside, the picnics and the parties we'll throw for each other with food that we make with our own skills, the gifts we'll give to each other and maybe we'll make those gifts, too; also, just the idea of friendship! It's the first time I'll really get to meet them, to know them! Does Ocelli like pursuing a field of chemistry? Or, maybe he wants to just spend time making some street in some town look more beautiful with trees and flowers? What about Forewing? He probably wants to study history—I remember him telling me about how interesting Equestria's history would be. Maybe he also likes to skydive. Wait, that doesn't make sense. We're changelings—silly me! We can fly!"
"Humerus?"
His ears perked up. "Blue Alarm?"
He turned around.
There the three were: Blue Alarm, Red Noise, Neon Guard.
"We've been looking all over for you again, Humerus," Blue Alarm said. "Don't go wandering off like that when we're not looking."
Humerus smiled. "I'm so glad to see you again, guys!"
"Uh, then why did you go away from us?" Red Noise asked, sounding perplexed.
"Oh, I was just admiring the view and, well, enjoying everything else, really!" Humerus said, getting giddier and more excited with each second. "I say that we explore the boundaries of what a changeling can do!"
"Wow!" Neon Guard expressed. "You're in a sprightly mood today."
"Who isn't?!" Humerus yelled, spreading his front hooves wide. "Look around, friends! Everyone here can do wahtever they want whenever they want however they want for whoever they want! No useless rules to lock me down, no sir!" He shook his head. "I'm a free changeling, and I'll make sure all of us get to do everything we can do together as friends—no, more than run-of-the-mill friends! We're best friends and I'm delcaring it right now!"
Then, he hugged all of them in a single bound.
Looks of surprise were on their faces.
Then, they hugged him back.
"I love you guys!" Humerus yelled.
"Best friends forever, I guess!" Red Noise responded.
"I won't forget this moment," Neon Guard said.
Blue Alarm was silent—but, his smile was wide.
Then, he said something: "Looks like everything is going to end up alright."
In the present
"What's with the fence?" Thorax asked.
"I think that was his breaking point," Blue Alarm said. "He didn't talk much about his freedom because, I guess, he didn't need to."
Back in the past
The four changelings were huddled together in the crowd, among them yet somehow separate as some space was around them. They were laughing, telling jokes to each other. They were exchanging stories—well, not that many stories for there weren't that many good-natured ones to begin with. They were speaking their own plans to each other, what they plan to do over the next few weeks. Then, they conveyed the rest of their thoughts—views, opinions, descriptions, curiosities, even mere trivia. Then, after a few minutes, laughter erupted onced again from the four changelings.
Then, they embraced.
Closed eyes, big smiles.