//------------------------------// // A Touch Of Gray // Story: My Little Changeling -- "I" is Magic // by Wing Dancer //------------------------------// The field of blue was literally ravaged by Chip. What little was left of the fragrant plants had to be left alone, as the changeling’s gut was dangerously pressing against his abdominal carapace piece. With a satisfied belch, the colt continued his stride through the forest. It was getting warmer and he could see a transparent mist rise from the ground. The damp air was leaving droplets of water on Chip’s shimmering armor - it was a really uncomfortable feeling and the stallion had to shake the moisture off every now and then. Other than that small inconvenience, the forest was very enjoyable. The rich variety of smells, colors and sounds made the changeling’s head spin – he tried hard to put a name to everything he saw and heard, identifying most of them correctly…or so he hoped. * * * For some time now, Chip felt like he was being followed. He wasn’t sure if it was the subtle rustling of leaves or a faint smell of emotions, but something told him that it couldn’t be a wild creature. It was already concluded that beasts feared him and it would be impossible for that theory to be rendered null all of a sudden. With that thought in mind, the colt stopped and looked around. His ears twitched – a bush to the left moved slightly. Despite the now heavy layer of fog near the ground, it was visibly more energetic than the rest of the foliage in the windless forest. With a wild grin, Chip vanished from view. The plant shrugged. Chip followed the sound of rustling leaves, trying to move as silently as he could. He noticed he was being circled…was he seen? Was it possible that his spell didn’t work in the forest? He paused to look at his hoof, which of course wasn’t there. Instead, a puff of white followed upwards. Chip grunted, displeased – it was so obvious. The mist he was standing in was disrupted by his body. Gloves off, then. Springing sideways, Chip mauled the air with his wings, leaving a trail of white in his wake. He crashed into something, tumbling a few feet until painfully hitting a tree. He held tight to the kicking and biting thing – he could barely see his hooves (as a figure of speech of course, they were still invisible), let alone the spy that was tracing him. Picking himself up, he held the flailing creature above the mist’s surface. And allowed his jaw to drop. Kicking and squirming in his forehooves was none other than a gray, soaked filly. Her green eyes were panicked; her mouth moved, but no sound came from it. Snapping out of it, the changeling made himself visible in his true form. The foal got startled for only a little while before going limp and staring at Chip with her large eyes. “Umm…” She swallowed, breaking eye contact and trying to look innocent. “H-Hi there… Mister…” “Silver… Heart…” hissed Chip, trying to figure out what was happening. Why was the filly here? Was she sent here to find him? Why hasn't she just approached him? And why would Night Star or Autumn Leaf send their child after him? “What…are you doing here?” He put the filly back on the ground. The fog swallowed her up to her neck, making the red blush even more vibrant on her face. Was this some kind of pony thing? Come to think of it, it was quite practical. A young one was lighter and therefor faster to carry messages around. And definitely more stealthy, as was proved by her managing to trace him almost flawlessly. If he knew any better, he would think she had some changeling blood in her. Thankfully, it was biologically impossible. Probably. “I, umm,” started the filly, shuddering. “I, umm…I snuck out of home…to come and see you. I-I’m sorry,” she wept, sinking into the mist. Chip grabbed her by the coat and placed on his back. “Why did you follow me, little one?” “I just…you’re a really nice colt. Mommy told me a lot about you. And I wanted to meet you. But I couldn’t, because you were sick and all…” “I had a hangover,” explained Chip. “What’s a hangover?” “It’s when you drink too much alcohol and then have a bad time. I should not drink at all, because that is what only grownups do,” recited the changeling the explanation he was offered way back at the cottage. “Well, aren’t you a grownup yourself? I mean, you’re really big and all.” “Huh. Good question, Silver Heart.” What was a grownup anyway? By pony standards, he is even younger than the filly. By changeling trends…what was he anyway? He was overgrown, abnormal, totally unique. How to classify himself in his own species? The answer would have to wait, as the filly was squirming around uncomfortably on Chip’s back. In silence, she was inspecting his flank, neck, tapping at his carapace and irritating his ears with her muzzle. She was curious. And Chip felt…some kind of sweetness in himself. It was a happy feeling, but one he could not name. It was pleasurable, like watching the sun rise or flying high up in the air, but at the same time was a lot deeper and closer to the heart rather than spread all over the body. “Say mister, you don’t have a cutie mark, don’t ya?” The filly almost slipped off the colt’s wet back, tapping his thigh. “No. I don’t have such marks. None of my kind have,” replied Chip, fighting with his thoughts. What should he do now? The foal didn’t seem to want anything with him, save for a talk. Should he take her with him? Return her home? It would be a shame to go all the way through the forest again and land in the same spot the morning after. “So, uh, what do you want to do?” finally asked the colt. “I don’t know. What do you wanna do?” “Well, I’m going that way,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction they came from. “Hopefully I’ll reach some kind of settlement and learn about ponies.” “So that’s what you do? Learn about ponies? Are you a scientist?” The filly was excitedly bouncing on his back, occasionally dropping on her belly to not fall off the slippery surface. “Wow, mommy told me you are smart, but she didn’t mention you’re a scientist! Oh, oh! I know! I’m a pony, right?” She turned around, proving undoubtedly she was a real equine. “You can learn about me! I can come with you and tell you all about ponies! Please, please! I’ve always wanted to go someplace else, but daddy said there was no need…that it was too dangerous.” “I’m a bit disappointed as well – everything seems to be afraid of me,” grumbled Chip. “Well, I’m not! I like you!” she snuggled to the changeling, climbing onto his neck and poking her head above his. She tried to look him in the eyes, but his curvy horn made that task difficult. “We can be best friends! I never get to meet anypony else, except for daddy’s friends and their foals. They are all so boring. But you’re cool!” “Umm…thanks.” Chip smiled and cautiously turned around, securing the filly in place between his stretched leathery wings. * * * The journey continued , but there was no room for silence anymore. Silver Heart was very excited and kept asking questions Chip tried to answer to the best of his abilities. Together they put names on trees (making some of them up, pretending to be the first ones to ever discover them), laughed or just talked about themselves. Silver didn’t understand much of Chip’s tale, though – all this about hive minds, shapeshifting, drinking emotion, it didn’t make much sense. She heard a few grownup things she couldn’t remember later as well. The colt listened carefully to the filly’s story and was taken aback at how different the changeling culture was from the pony one – the very premise of not sharing thoughts, emotions and basically all their life functions with one another was mind blowing. Each pony was trapped in their own little mind, feeling closeness only through communicating with words, gestures or touch. The whole idea of communication was alien in itself. It was difficult to imagine how one such as this foal could learn to walk, talk and do other things without guidance. Chip remembered the time he was learning how to function and it was difficult – certainly lethal should he had to do it by himself. All this confirmed a lot from what he had heard in his cave a few months back. Silver Heart was a bit startled by Chip when he decided to travel in his azure colt disguise – she fell off his back during transformation, but claimed to be okay. She even managed to beg out a short display of the costumes he had – she squealed especially loud when she saw her own image standing just a hoof away from her. “It would be really fun if you pretended you were me – we could say we were twin sisters!” repeated Silver for (almost) the hundredth time, lying her head on the short black mane Chip now had. She was still chewing a leaf from the recent meal they had – unfortunately, the black colt was unable to find the fragrant blue plant he liked so much earlier. “You’re too short for my taste. I got used to seeing things from above.” The stallion yelped as he received an bite to the back of his neck “Meanie,” grumbled Silver Heart. * * * The little creature on Chip’s back fell asleep around the time it became colder and darker in the forest – the changeling himself was starting to feel tired. Every once in a while he made sure the sleeping filly didn’t fall off. Looking at her like that made him feel the warm fuzzy feeling again. It was a good idea to bring the kid along - her energy and curiosity matched that of Chip and the foal was one of the nicest ponies he had met thus far. He felt comfortable around her, appreciating the fact she accepted him for who he was. Feeling that his hooves would carry him no more that night, Chip stopped under a tree and fit himself between the exposed roots. He would prefer a cave with just one exit, but the wet forest bedding and hard wood around his body would have to do for now. As delicately as he could, he put the foal under his belly. She snuggled up to his fur, mumbling something in her sleep. Her warmth against his skin radiated through his whole self – he could feel her delicate breath and a suggestion of a gentle heart beat in her small chest. This creature was so defenseless, so reliant on him. It trusted him so much, even though he could probably snap her in half with just one hoof, or drain her clean of emotion in less than a heartbeat. The weight of protecting and caring for this filly was a pleasurable baggage in the plethora of thoughts flowing through the sleepy mind of Chip. As he begun to sail away into dream-land, he wished he could have Silver Heart for himself. He would make a splendid…daddy.