//------------------------------// // The Hunt // Story: The Age of Hunting // by SwordTune //------------------------------// Spectra felt anticipation electrifying her sisters as they marched for the surface. They were all excited for their first real hunt. At their backs, four packs of hunter-drones, each led by a captain and his lieutenants. They'd all have a pack to lead, though their mother made it clear that it would be the captains that chose their hunting grounds. For two months they lived in the hive, a system of dimly lit tunnels where only small creatures of little note scurried along the caverns. Spectra touched her leg, feeling the leathery strip of egg sac she had tied around it. It felt like a world ago when she burst from her egg, fighting for dominance over her sisters. Despite the hunter-drones refusing to pamper the princesses anymore, they grew. Even her sister Tenacity, who had always been the smallest of the surviving four princesses, was no threat to be ignored. They may have shared a closer bond, having both fought their crippled sister Halfwing in their birthing pit, but nevertheless, Spectra kept a wary eye out. Majesta, on the other hoof, hardly needed looking after. Her presence was overwhelming, and she quickly learned how to lead and dominate others from their mother's lessons. Being the largest of the sisters, the drones naturally respected her the most, and now the pack marching behind her was the largest of the four. In the depths of the hive where no sunlight entered, every Changeling was born with wide, black pupils that soaked in what little light came from the patches of glowing lichen. But the outside world will be brighter than you could ever imagine. They were not eyes fit for the brightness of the sun. Spectra had to suppress the magic rising to her horn as she shifted her eyes. She learned the hard way from fighting Majesta that they could jettison all their hard-earned magic in a sudden loss of control. The change was still difficult at her age, however. Redundant cells were destroyed and her lenses were reshaped, all to reduce the sensitivity of her sight. Nevertheless, the tunnel to the surface didn't seem to grow any darker as they marched. Halfway up, they were much closer to the surface and passed new creatures Spectra was never told about. There were insects that glowed like the lichen they fed on, and some species of lizard that moved around with no legs. Lichen became plentiful as they neared the mouth of the hive, growing over the corpses of unfortunate animals that fell in, brightening the passageway. Though sunlight still couldn't penetrate this deep into the earth, life found a way in. "I can't wait to take in the smells," Tenacity chattered, unable to contain her excitement. She didn't seem all that small now with her wings fully spread, ready to take off. Halfwing chortled at her. "Will you be so happy when I out-hunt you?" Tenacity bumped her sister aside. "And how will you do that, One-wing? You can't fly." The jab at her injury was almost too much to bear. Spectra could smell the adrenaline in her ichor. Anger and shame swirled around her; Halfwing would have lashed out and attacked that instant if they all hadn't been so eager to stalk their hunting grounds. "Both of you be silent," Majesta snapped. "If you two slow me down don't expect me to wait." "We're to escort you four to the surface," said one of the captains. "We're almost there, so refrain from tearing each other apart until then." The hunter-drone's words calmed them. Spectra's readjusted eyes would be useless in a sunless cavern, even one filled with glowing lichen patches. She was lucky that it didn't stay that way. Dim sunlight reflecting off cave walls trickled down, gradually growing brighter as they approached the mouth of the cave. What was once black stone walls turned grey, and eventually, Spectra could make out the limestone layers that formed patterns throughout the cave. Pillars of residue that joined the cave ceiling to its floor became more prominent as the surface's moisture eroded and moved the cave minerals around. The stalagmite and stalactite fangs of the hunter-drone tunnel were unimpressive and minuscule compared to these structures. And suddenly, in the midst of her fascination with the changing tunnel, columns of sunlight rained down from a gaping mass ahead of them. All four princesses froze in their tracks, sensing the mix of emotions within each other. The green of the plants that grew at the mouth, sprawling their way into the darkness was intoxicating to their eyes. The sound and smell of fresh water that spilt down from above and became mist inside the cave filled their ears and noses with reverence. The beauty was liberating, breathtaking, but also terrifying and intimidating. They were creatures born in darkness and taken to savagery. What did this outside world have for the likes of them? Yet their awe was muddled with other emotions: envy and hatred. Envy for their lesser drones, who hunted in the daylight, sometimes for weeks without returning. Envy for the ponies who built villages on the surface, reaping its bounties while they struggled in the underworld. And hatred for their mother, who held them down for so long, teaching them about their prey and their enemies, but never once mentioning its enrapturing glory. Together they hissed and spat at the sunlight and the surface world, all bristling their wings. Why shouldn't they take it for themselves? They were princesses of the hive, and the surface was their rightful hunting ground. The hunter-drones responded the same, sending a storm of buzzing echoes down the tunnel they had marched through. The sisters sprinted now for the surface, their wings becoming blurs as they took flight for the sunlight. Even Halfwing, who hissed at a young hunter-drone to lift her up, shot after her sisters in fervour for the outer world. They would not be denied their beautiful hunting grounds. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The captain flew ahead of the rest of the pack, leading Spectra to the hunting spot the Queen had assigned them. She was frustrated that a hunter-drone was acting as a caretaker for her, telling her where to hunt and what parts of the surface wilderness to enjoy, but she followed diligently. The Queen was not the generous type, so for this hunter-drone to have become a captain meant he had experiences worth learning from. "Surface trees have many branches that get in the way," he shouted back as they entered a thicker part of the forest. He flew lower, ducking under the web vines and broad leaves that blocked their path. "How can we see our prey from down here?" Spectra challenged as she followed his lead. "Would we not have a better view from above?" The captain laughed, his amusement at her ignorance grating the back of her mind as she waited for the answer. After a moment, he decided to share. "Dragons. We're not the only hunters that pony villages attract." There was little information about dragons in her egg-dreams. As she understood, however, dragons were like overgrown lizards, and they foolishly hunted alone. "The pack can't handle a single dragon?" she asked. He laughed at her again, but this time quickly gave an unnerving warning. "Perhaps a young one, your highness, but I don't think even the hive can handle a single adult dragon." They flew a little further, passing over long streams of water that trickled down from mountains in the distance. The smell of the water was crisp and cooled the air. Every creek they passed made her want to stop and bathe in its presence. The water came from glacial mountaintops, according to her egg-dreams. But since leaving the hive for only a few hours, she was tired of calling on distant ancestral memories. She wanted to fly everywhere, to taste the freezing snow for herself and really know what it was like. Her desired boiled until she could barely stand it. "Where are we even going, anyway?" The captain cast a quick glance to the sky above. Not much was visible, save specks of the blue sky and thin shafts of sunlight. "North," he answered while changing direction slightly. "Past the swamps, there's a wide river that forks into two. There lies a pony settlement. The region has gentle annual floods, making its soil fertile and perfect for growing the grains that their kind are fond of. And since they grow so much, they trade what they don't need on riverboats." "And why should I care about what ponies do with their food?" Spectra replied, catching up so she flew by the captain's side. "Because to infiltrate their city," the captain explained, "you'll be masquerading as one of the many travellers who seek out new opportunities." The flight north across the swamps the captain mentioned was longer than Spectra would have imagined. Again she was astounded by how different the surface was from the hive. Unlike the confining walls below ground, she could fly from horizon to horizon and never see an end, never having to stop and turn around. The only conciliation was the swamp's largely homogeneous terrain. For miles in all directions, Spectra sensed nothing but the odour of the massive toothy reptiles native to the region's waters. With nothing to dazzle her, save for the impressive monotony of the biome, she let herself get lost in thought, imagining how she'd savour the taste of pony magic. "We're going make a stop at the nest in the forest ahead," the captain finally said, shaking Spectra from her thoughtless, bored state. She took a quick survey of the area. The ecotone they were passing over was the barrier between the swamp to the south and the more temperate forested lands ahead of the pack. The water just a few meters below her hooves changed colour as it grew shallower, eventually giving way to drier and drier land. Droning out the trip made it seem as if they had been flying for mere minutes, but given the position of the sun, she knew that was impossible. They had been travelling for the better part of the day, and her attention now finally shifted to the ache in her wings. "I don't recall any nests from my egg-dreams," she told the captain as the forest came up in the distance. He nodded. "Wouldn't expect so. The only Changelings who do end up being groundskeepers." She looked at him, perplexed at who he meant by groundskeepers. Aside from her sisters, the only Changelings in the hive were worker and hunter-drones. Still, the look on his face was focused on the trees ahead, so she guessed the answer to her question was quickly approaching. The trees this far north were nothing like those just outside the hive. Instead of broad-leafed trees that blanketed the land with green, these trees came in so many colours that Spectra recalled briefly an egg-dream of a rainbow. There were tall, dark greens with prickly leaves, surrounded by lighter barked trees sporting orange and yellow leaves. They stayed low as they entered the forest, but even then, Spectra had a hard time keeping up with the captain. Low hanging branches stood in her way, forcing her to stop and change direction at any moment. Yet he seemed to bob through the obstacles with no effort at all, even using some larger branches as jumping-off points to turn at impossible angles. Though the rest of the pack did not surpass her, Spectra knew, embarrassingly, that they were slowing themselves on purpose. Eventually, however, the ordeal came to an end. The captain stopped short and dropped to the ground, just under a large orange-leafed tree with a nest built among its branches. Long narrow walkways linked the main nest-room to other smaller ones in the trees, forming something resembling a hive, except above ground. "Ho! Who goes there?" shouted a voice from the nest above the captain. Spectra recognized it was a drone's voice, but the accent was nothing she had heard before. "The hive has new princesses now, groundskeeper," the captain returned his reply. "We're to use this hunting ground for her first hunt." A large, grey Changeling stuck his head from the nest, spreading leaves down onto the ground as if he had burst from a pile of them. "Is that so? Would it hurt to send a pack a few weeks in advance, even just to send some news?" The captain opened his mouth but chose not to answer. "Ha! Just pulling yer wing, captain," he said. The grey Changeling stuck his head back into the nest and for a moment they could all hear the rustling of leaves. After an exclamation that sounded vaguely positive, a rope burst from the nest and tumbled down. "Bet the young drones have their wings achin' by now," he chuckled. "Climb on up." The captain looked to his lieutenants, motioning them with his head to meet with the groundskeeper. They all sighed, but followed the command and barked at the other hunter-drones to climb up the rope. Then the captain turned to Spectra. "It'll be a while before everything is sorted out here," he said. "In the meantime, I'll take you around to check on the nearby traps. They always have something to eat." "But the pack-" Spectra started. But the captain was already turning away from the nest. "As much as I like commanding my pack, the Queen personally chooses groundskeepers to maintain nests here on the surface. Assigning hunt-and-patrol schedules are his job, not mine." Spectra looked back at the nest and then caught up with the captain before he trailed too far off. Everything about the surface was new, but now that the captain mentioned prey, her hunger pangs were the only thing she could think of. She had flown hard the entire day without so much as a single bite. It amazed her that she didn't drop dead back in the swamp. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Here," the captain pointed. The traps that were scattered through the forest were fairly simple, though Spectra wasn't surprised that it didn't take much to fool mindless animals. The captain bit at a small string sticking out from a flat pile of leaves, pulling it away to reveal a pit that was three times the height of a pony and three times the length across. At the bottom, the familiar scent of frightened deer. "Once you find a pony, I'm certain you'll drain its magic like our kind was meant to," he said, looking down at the animal. "But for a creature with so little magic, you'll have to make do with eating it." Spectra frowned. It was not the first meal she expected to have, even if the deer was better than almost everything she had eaten in the hive. The captain leaned his head out, looking down at the deer, and grabbed it with his magic. An intoxicating aura of power wrapped around his horn and the magic in the air around the deer energized, linking to his will. Green magic lifted the deer impossibly; the creature was fully grown, but the captain moved it like it was a pebble her sisters kicked around the hive when they grew bored. Neither could the deer rise once it was put back down. The fall had twisted a joint in its back leg. Just as always, instinct flourished when Spectra's hunger was teased by the scent of prey. This mammal still lacked the complex emotions of a pony, but it was far more developed than a rat and even bigger than Majesta, holding a lot more magic that clung to its primal fear. Spectra drove, fangs bared, for its liver. Magic and life were tightly bound, so as long as the deer lived, its meat would be suffused with magic. The stabbing pain of her teeth tearing through its abdomen to reach the liver sent shock from head to hoof in the deer. The sudden mental arrest sucked more magic into the deer's flesh, becoming strongly sour on Spectra's tongue. In her hunger not a single drop of blood touched the dirt; Spectra ate and drank it all ravenously, encouraged with her meal's bays and bleats of terror. As if daring it to make more noise, she reached a hoof into its body and tore out a section of half-chewed liver, presenting it to the deer. She widened her jaw and let the flesh slide down her throat, slimy with blood. In the trees, small birds fled while they could and clever crows cawed to their comrades, waiting to pick off whatever was left behind. After a few minutes, the deer's body gave in to the stress, and in an instant, the tart emotion of fear and all its magic vanished from the meat. Spectra fell back on herself, collapsing as her full belly lurched. She slumped onto the ground and stared up at the sky. In a small clearing of the leave above her, the night sky somehow even more beautiful than the day. With no sun to blind the sky, each star in the sky was a bright contrast with the darkness around it. A long branch of what she could only call a star-cloud across the sky, arching from horizon to horizon. With no sun, the specks of light were highlighted by the true blackness of the heavens. Spectra wondered if one day she'd ever fly among the stars. "Can you walk?" asked the captain after a long moment. Spectra nodded and slowly supported herself with her own legs. The captain relaxed and his wings folded back. "Good. I'm not about to become the one who had to tell her Queen her daughter was eaten by a Timberwolf because she gorged herself into unconsciousness." She said nothing to reply to the captain's mockery, taking the lead back to the nest just to show she was still a princess, and not completely inept. But after a few minutes of silence, Spectra chose to ask the questions squirming in her mind. "Tell me about the groundskeeper," she said. "Why don't I know anything about this drone?" "I'm not surprised. Their connection to the hive is, in a word, strained," the captain explained. "It's rare to even find one at birth. Only one in every ten-thousand hunter-drones are born as groundskeepers, and out of them, very few survive the Queen's selection process." "You said she chooses them to look after the nests," Spectra recalled as they passed an empty trap. The captain nodded. "Their egg-dreams are mostly of the surface, and they're born with eyes better suited for sunlight. Once they're born, the Queen immediately takes them above ground and scatters them across the hunting grounds, leaving them to survive alone." "For how long?" As a princess, Spectra's pride was considerable, but even she acknowledged that she would've been useless in the surface world as a newborn. "When they're young, she visits every few months," he said, "until they're about a year old. After that, she leaves them isolated for two years before naming them groundskeepers." Suddenly the groundskeeper's odd behaviour didn't seem as bizarre. They way he spoke jokingly with the captain was unusual, but she believed any Changeling subjected to years of isolation would be eager to connect to a pack. Signs of the nest finally began to show. Dozens of broken branches lay on the floor, discarded in the process of building numerous nest-rooms and interconnecting them into one big outpost. "But what's the point?" The hunter-drones were well equipped and spent most of their time hunting on the surface anyways. "It seems a lot of effort for something pointless." She didn't understand why the hive needed crazed, isolated specialists. The captain pointed a hoof at the structures above them. "You think this all maintains itself? Who do you think empties and resets the traps? Or keeps the nests in good shape? Their job is to make sure that when a pack arrives, there's fresh, living food to refuel the hungry and a place to rest for the tired." Irritation grew in his voice at the questions, but he relaxed in front of his princess. "The hive does not consider groundskeepers as drones. They're more independent and capable than any hunter-drone and don't care for any authority but the Queen's. They are her direct operatives on the surface, so even you must show respect deserving of that title." Spectra didn't say anything else about it. She only nodded and looked up to the nest. "So, where's my nest-room?" The captain unfolded his wings and hovered himself. "There are a few nest-rooms that should please you," he said. "I hope you find them comfortable, you'll begin preparing for your hunt first thing tomorrow morning." Without waiting, he took off for the trees, with Spectra catching up behind him, eager for the next day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The map before her made little sense. Spectra wracked her brain in the groundskeeper's nest-room, where maps and charts of the surface world bombarded her with information. She did not imagine her hunt would contain so much planning. The hunter-drones were out patrolling according to the groundskeeper's schedule, leaving her alone to make sense of all the details she was expected to know. She put a hoof over their location, just miles south of a fork in the river. She traced it west, following one of the forked rivers to where another pony settlement was. That's where she came from, or at least that's what her pony disguise will say. Spectra looked at the letters scribbled over the village's marker. The groundskeeper apparently had adopted the way ponies stored information, scratching markings into the paper with charcoal. She rummaged through the other papers strewn around the nest, finally identifying a list that bore the same markings as her village. But it was worthless. Long lines of pony writing offered valuable information, and she couldn't read a word of it. She sighed and let the paper fall onto the map. Hearing her discontent, the groundskeeper stuck his head up from the pile of foliage where he slept. "Is there something wrong?" She snapped a glare at him. "How do you expect me to learn when I can't make sense of these markings and you're too busy lounging away?" He shrugged. "Well you woke me up now, so might as well ask." Briefly, Spectra's instinct kicked in and she felt disgusted at the Changeling. Any drone under her command would apologize for their ridiculous behaviour at once. But she was young and inexperienced, and he was not just any drone. She breathed and let her emotions wash over her like a river smoothing a stone and lifted the paper about the village she was supposed to be from. "What am I supposed to learn from this?" He crawled out from his sleeping spot and shifted uncomfortably close to Spectra, quickly scanning the things she had been trying to decipher. "Marblestop," he read. "A pony town of some thirty-thousand residents. The rocky soil barely grows food despite annual floods, so they mainly export stones and ore they find in their quarries in return for grain and fruit. The trade district, which is where you will be from, is located in the banks along the river." Spectra listened attentively to every word, picking up the sounds of each letter. If she could learn to copy the sounds, she figured she could also learn some of the words as well. The groundskeeper went on and on, covering every detail true native of the pony village would know. The names of the streets, the names of important locals, the names of speciality dishes. Ponies used a lot of names. But, as the days went on, each lesson grew more and more familiar. Spectra grew into her role, speaking to the groundskeeper as if she was already in disguise. After meals caught by the hunter-drones, she'd practice telling stories about her life growing up in Marblestop, ensuring none of the details contradicted each other. "Marina Fisher," the groundskeeper called Spectra one night for dinner, using the name she had chosen for her disguise. Spectra reluctantly pulled herself away from the list of games popular among ponies. "What's for dinner tonight?" she asked, pitching her voice higher the way ponies did when excited. "Oh, I hope it's not your swamp-style casserole." The groundskeeper feigned a face of offence at her remark about his imagined cooking. "Not that I don't appreciate it," she played along, "it's just that... I think eating a varied diet could be healthier." The groundskeeper laughed, dropping the act of a cook. "Well, in that case, I reckon yer gonna enjoy this, girl." He lifted his hoof to his mouth, pressing his lips up against a small crack in his chitin, and blew a sharp call to the hunter-drones who were just returning with their hunt, perfectly on time. The captain flew by, casting a knowing grin at the groundskeeper before leaving his catch in the middle of the nest-room. Spectra immediately knew something wasn't right. The food was wrapped up neatly, nothing like the freshly injured game she had been eating all week. "Spend time out in wild too long and you'll lose a stomach for village food, Marina" the groundskeeper chuckled, unwrapping the meals hidden inside the cloth packaging. It was still warm, wisps of water vapour trailing off of it as he presented a plate piled with macerated roots and some kind of grain. Spectra turned her nose away. "You expect me to eat that?" she almost shouted, muffling herself with her hooves over her face. "It's just steamed carrots and barley, with a few herbal leaves," he said. "Really popular in Riverfork, since barley's their main export." She lifted the plate in her hooves, testing the scent of the food. It was plain and lifeless. She lapped up a mouthful of the stuff, her face twisting at the rough texture of the grains. Yet, for an instant, Spectra thought she was capable of stomaching the food. But as it rolled down her throat, her body rejected it. She gagged and doubled over, feeling like she was going to regurgitate every invasive grain. But it wasn't just a bad meal. If she couldn't do something as simple as eat among her prey, she'd never blend in, and never be able to hunt. She'd be a failure to her mother, unworthy to her drones, and a weakling squashed by her sisters. In a surge of will, she locked her jaw and forced the vile pony sustenance down her throat. Her stomach lurched but didn't put up further resistance. The groundskeeper laughed. "If it's that bad going in..." "Not another word," Spectra panted. She picked the food in smaller portions, eating a few barley grains at a time. He watched her, effortlessly downing his share of the barley as if it was any other meat. It was another testament to his experience above ground, and how much she needed to learn if she wanted to come out on top of her sisters. Eating at an even pace, Spectra managed to finish her meal before the moon hit its zenith. The groundskeeper gave a satisfied grunt and levitated the plate back into its cloth wrapping. "Tomorrow your pack will escort you to a stolen pony boat," he said after burying the dishes under some leaves. "From there, you'll sail into the harbour and begin a new life as Marina Fisher." Spectra looked beyond the edge of the nest to a dim light in the distance where lamps burned away the dark. "How much contact should I keep with the pack?" "The captain will assign a lieutenant as your watcher," he answered. "There'll also be a flier to deliver freshly caught prey every few days to keep you from going into a hunger-frenzy. Aside from that, you won't see the rest of them for as long as you're hunting." Spectra nodded. It confirmed what her instincts told her; there were no vivid memories from her egg-dreams, but something from those dreams warned her that she would not have the benefits of the hive out in the pony world. The pack would take measures to protect her and keep her fed while undercover--pony food did nothing to sate her hunger, and leaving to hunt animals would raise suspicion among the villagers--but aside from that, she needed to find her own way. "Tomorrow then," she said to the groundskeeper. She stretched opened her wings after hours of staying relatively still and hovered off the edge of his nest-room. He simply nodded back in acknowledgement. "Good night, girl, and good luck tomorrow." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The pack spread out ahead of Spectra to make sure there was no pony nearby as the pack flew for the river banks. Only the captain stayed close, repeatedly quizzing her on what she was expected to do. "You seem worried, captain," she said after he asked her to recite what she'd say to the dockmaster for the third time. "Make no mistake, if you fail, or worse die, during this hunt, the Queen will be disappointed," he said. "But as captain, it'll be me she'll punish. It's my duty to make sure you're prepared. So tell me again where you're from." "Marblestop," she answered in Marina Fisher's voice. "I and my father were smiths, but after he passed away I had to do work as a trader to make ends meet. I finally saved enough to buy a boat and sail to Riverfork to make a better life for myself." The captain grunted in approval. "And have you thought about what cutie mark Marina will have?" Spectra sighed, repeating again what she had already told him earlier that morning. "A fishing hook being shaped by a blacksmith's hammer." "And how can you prove you're a real blacksmith?" The captain pressed. "Okay that's enough!" she snapped. "I already told you every step ponies use to make their metal things, from ore to product." "Fine," he grumbled. "We're at the boat anyway." The vessel the pack had stolen in preparation for the hunt was a narrow fishing boat with a small carved dog head at its nose. On it was a few provisions a real pony would bring on a journey away from home. A few changes of clothes, some dried oats and grains, and a small satchel of silver coins ponies used to standardize trade. Across the river, Spectra got her first real look at the village. The captain had described it well enough, but it mentioned nothing about its size. Where she expected huts built among trees, there were flattened dirt roads with wooden plank sidewalks. Hundreds of small boats crowded at the docks, where she could just barely make out countless ponies moving back and forth like busy worker-drones. "I sent a lieutenant ahead last night," the captain told Spectra as she clamoured onto the boat. "I don't know what form they'll be in, but don't worry about finding them, they'll find you when you need it." Spectra nodded and unfurled the sail on her little vessel. Once she was off at a steady pace for the village, the pack took to the air and disappeared into the trees. But before she drew anywhere near the village, she needed to change. What was out of her reach before when she lived in the hive was now possible with the plentiful prey the surface world provided. She felt for her magic, gathering it until it pooled in her chest and leaked across her body. Ichor turned to blood as new veins formed. At first, there was only pain, her skin and flesh being pulled apart and reformed. But that was short-lived, replaced by intense pleasure. Using the magical power stored inside her was just as intoxicating as stealing it from another living thing. Her chitin melted away and became a soft, beige coat, and her twisted horn softened and straightened into a unicorn's, hardening again when it had taken shape. She felt like she had become her true self, a Changeling in disguise. She blinked as a new sensation came over her: the feeling of brown hair rolling down her face, covering her eyes. "I'm not combing this every day," Spectra muttered to herself, expending a drop of magic to pull back the mane to a shorter length. She collapsed from the effort once it was done. The sky spun above her, clouds becoming white swirls as she slowly recovered from exhaustion. She wasn't a Changeling, but she had kept some of her keener predatory senses. Hidden under her more adorable and cuddly unicorn appearance were the sensitive ears and nose of a hunter. What reached her first was the sound of the village. Small boats constantly bumped against each other as ponies seemed desperate to make it back onto solid land. Larger ships loomed over them, creaking softly with the gentle waves of the river. Then there was the scent. Despite their attempts at a draining system, the sheer size of the village amassed too much waste to go unnoticed. It was all taken away eventually to fertilize the vast tracts of farmland surrounding the village, but even then the lingering scent made Spectra, or Marina rather, sick. But she would have to endure. If the ponies could muster the strength to live in such a condition, then it'd be no trouble for her either. She shook her head to clear it, putting on a strong face as her boat pulled into the docks. She tied it down to a post and walked up to meet the stallion approaching her with a scroll of paper. "G' morning miss," he spoke in a heavily accented voice. "Gon' haftado sum paperwork 'fore you get t' village proper." "Alright," she said while focusing on just trying to make out what he was saying. "Name?" "Marina Fisher," she answered. The stallion scribbled on his scroll. "An' wherya comin' from Miss Fisher?" "Marblestop." His ears perked up. "Realuh now? Yer, uh, one of the refugees then?" Marina furrowed her brows. "What do you mean by a refugee?" The dock master lowered his scroll and looked at her. "Beggin' your pardon if the term offends, miss, but after what happened at yer village, y' all're pretty much refugees." "Wait, what happened to my home?" Neither the groundskeeper nor the captain mentioned any trouble her village could have been in. "I've been sailing for a while, I haven't been home in a long time." Suddenly, a wave of sympathy washed over the stallion's face. "Musta left 'fore it happened then." He pointed to the hundreds of other small boats and rafts coming into the docks. "Them're yer kin. Fled after Changelings hit yer village." Her sisters. It must have been one of them. She wanted to smile, knowing that one of them had already been exposed and had to resort to primitive violence to get their prey, but it was no laughing matter for Marina. With a gentle trickle of magic, Spectra stimulated the eyes, watering them until tears streaked down her face. "Oh, er, don't fret miss," the dock master stammered. "I suppose since you came on business, council's ban on yer folk don't apply to you. Um, yer on business, right?" She faked a meek nod. "Lost my job back home. Came to try blacksmithing here." The dock master quickly scribbled on his scroll. "Reckon you can pass. Got more questions, but y'don' need any more o' those right now. Sorry for, ah, the bad news." Marina slung her bags over her back and thanked the stallion. She kept her head low, doing her best to conceal a grin. The pony's sympathy smelled so sweet, and it was a great way to bypass all the irritating questions that reminded her of the captain. Still, she had to be more vigilant than ever now. With true Marblestop ponies waiting right outside the docks, there were hundreds of ponies who could spot any crack in her disguise. She had to keep the story straight. She was Marina, a blacksmith's daughter who left home after hard times, but before the Changeling attack. She came to work as a blacksmith in Riverfork. She was Marina Fisher.