//------------------------------// // Chapter Two // Story: Shed My Skin // by ItchyStomach //------------------------------// The spell left numerous changelings behind, but as a side effect, it induced heavy concussion in every one of them. This made taking them​ into custody much easier than expected. Interrogation begins as soon as their medical state allows it. Unfortunately, many — including the Queen — were propelled too far to arrest them. The number of reports regarding missing ponies rose significantly following the invasion, but they are being gradually discovered in hidden locations or wandering confused, mostly unharmed, apart from severe mental exhaustion. A single changeling that didn’t show signs of the spell has escaped custody and was last seen gliding down the mountain at dangerous speeds. Its general direction indicated no particular target before the pursuing pegasi lost visual. Towns in the proximity of the mountain are set to receive reinforcements in the form of royal guards in the following days. Report snippet from the Royal Canterlot Guards’ Bureau *** Changeling physiology differs from pony physiology in many ways, obviously, but it also has its little quirks as well. Who would have thought that the insides of the holes were tender, and thus unsuitable for snapping sticks or fastening things to heavier than a pebble? Also, as I was about to do the first item of my usual morning routine, I discovered the alarming absence of certain body parts a stallion should absolutely have. I calmed myself by repeating the thought that I was a changeling, therefore, by definition, I could always magic myself any body I wanted, with all the necessary accessories. My inability to actually do it was less of a concern at the moment. Walking around a little, now that I wasn’t being chased, revealed other changes as well. I was much slimmer and shorter than before, though I lacked the necessary reference to properly measure against. My legs lost some of their sturdiness but received agility. Flying was an obvious addition, but practicing it was out of the question until my wings have recovered. As for my other new appendage, the horn, I was unable to produce more than a few harmless sparks, and the ambient magic was calm as a summer breeze. My stomach also wasn’t too happy about eating grass and flowers and I had to gather up a large heap of fruits to satisfy it. I didn’t know what changeling usually ate, but if I couldn’t digest but only a few kinds of plants, I was looking at a change of diet as well. During the first morning after I woke from restless sleep, I made short scouting trips in every direction from my nest to find a town or a settlement to visit, once I discovered how not to stand out like a piece of coal in a heap of gemstones. I also had to gather food and water until then. I had plenty of time to think about a plan, but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept glancing over my shoulder every now and then. Someone was watching me, and it wasn’t the occasional critter. I spent most of the day sitting in one place and staring at my alien hooves. I didn’t want to believe this was happening, that this was not just a temporary state, but the harsh reality. How could my ordinary life take such a one-eighty? And how was I supposed to fix it? Was there a fix for having been turned into a changeling, anyway? Sometime that afternoon, my unanswered questions occupied me too much, by the time I saw the movement in my peripheral vision, I was too late to react. I only had time to jump to said hooves before I was surrounded by changelings. I couldn’t suppress a whimper at the half-dozen bug creatures around me, each probably capable of taking me down by itself. My current state skipped my mind for a few seconds before I realized they probably wouldn’t hurt one of their own. They wore a uniform of some sort, a dark-green fabric over their shoulders and neck. Two or three wore saddlebags that might have come from ponies, they looked so out of place on their black carapace. They carried no weapons that I could see but with magic and those fangs, they probably managed without. My inspection lasted only a few seconds before a doubled-over, authoritative voice came from my left. “Drone! State your division and purpose!” I turned my head to look at him. The changeling stood a hair taller than the rest and wore an additional red ribbon on one foreleg. I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say, and what they expected to hear. “I, uhm… I just escaped from Canterlot yesterday. From the guards. Then I flew…” I trailed off as I saw a few of them taking a step backwards. “You escaped before or after the spell was cast?” the supposed leader asked, with masked disbelief. “Well, after,” I said, paying close attention to their reaction. I couldn’t read their stern faces, but their body language was very much equine. I didn’t know how much I should be telling them, but hiding what I really was seemed to be a good idea. “I was thrown into a building and the spell passed over me. Then I flew over the wall and landed down here.” The leader exchanged a few hushed words with the changeling next to him, before turning back to me. “What exactly was your assignment in Canterlot?” Assignment? “Uhm… I was…” “Classified or not, the operation is over. I’m Commander Caracas of wing one-two-seven. You may share your directive with me.” I was beginning to think that my hope that they would see me as one of their own wasn’t going to get me out so easily. “Well, I’m afraid you have the wrong pony. I don’t know—” “Do you remember why you were in the city and what your pony form was?” The leader’s consultant asked cautiously. “What?” I blinked. “My pony form?” “You were a pony before the invasion, correct? Do you remember that?” How did they know? “Yes. I mean, I’m not sure…” “Do you remember the recall spell?” “The what?” “The one that told you to shed your pony body and proceed with… With your task.” My facial expression, however vague it felt for me, was clear enough for them. The two changelings began talking with one another again, and the only word I caught was “recollector”. “Very well,” the leader said, then taking a deep breath, turned back to me. “Let’s try this again. My name, as I already told you, is Commander Caracas. You are supposedly a special agent of Queen Chrysalis. Your mission was long-term infiltration, with the specifics only known to the Queen. The assignment included a memory re-write to maximize your effectiveness. She released a telekinetic trigger to activate your memories when the time came. Apparently, it didn’t work for every agent, and you were left out.” I hadn’t noticed, but at one point during that outlandish explanation, my tail hit the ground. I gaped at the leader, my mouth forming one well-practiced word: “What…?” “The Queen,” he went on, undeterred, “knew about the plan’s shortcomings, and prepared fallback squads with recollectors to use on any agent we found after the invasion, to give them the trigger directly. Sadly…” he nodded to the drone he’d talked to, “we had an encounter with the local fauna and our device was damaged, therefore we are unable to grant you a quick recovery. Unless we find another, only the Queen can help you. As of currently, the latter is quite impossible.” He ignored my helplessly lost blinks and turned to his right again. “Give it a try.” “Yes, sir.” The drone, using his teeth and hooves undid his saddlebags and produced a reinforced wooden container, opened the latch, then pulled out a tiara-like headpiece made from metal and embedded gems, with circular bands to fit on a pony’s head. Or a changeling's, as it were. He stepped closer to me and held the device out. I took an involuntary step backwards, but somebody put a hoof on the back of my head and he set the thing between my ears with a swift motion. Backing up, he lit his horn and aimed it at the device. I held my breath. A few seconds later, after everyone realized nothing was happening, the commander signaled the changeling, who removed and repackaged the headpiece. I let out a relieved sigh. “It was worth a try,” the leader muttered to himself, then raised his eyes to me. Or at least that what I assumed he did. “Your proper recovery must be postponed. Until we can either get you back to the hive or find another recollector, we will take you in and teach you the fundamentals of being a changeling. It shouldn’t be too hard, considering you are supposed to be better at everything than we are. Your questions, if any, will be answered by either me or Hussk.” He nodded to his right. The whole circle around me moved with the commander, obeying some silent order, leaving me standing where I was, limbs rooted to the ground. The leader, noticing my hesitation, halted the group and turned back to me. “Is everything alright?” “No, actually.” I looked at him, trying to convey how lost I was through my reduced range of facial expression. “This whole… thing. What you told me. It can’t be true.” He cocked his head. “But it is the truth. I won’t lie to my fellow soldiers, even if they don’t remember who they are.” Fellow soldier? No, thanks. “What’s going to happen if I come with you?” I asked. “You will not be captured by ponies and you will be with others like you. What you think and feel now is temporary, and will be corrected in time. You can’t stay here, where you could be caught.” “And why can’t I decide?” The leader raised his head a bit. “Because you belong to the Hive. We also have exact orders to bring home any recovered agents. We didn’t bring a recollector with us by accident.” I looked at their emotionless faces. I had no desire for a fight. I nodded. “I’m glad you are coming willingly,” the commander said. “Your abilities might even be beneficial to our mission.” They led me away, the drones falling into a narrow formation around the leader, Hussk, and me. From the corner of my eye I looked over the commander and the others, noticing a slight difference. They marched to a mutual rhythm, eyes straight ahead, only breaking formation to go around obstacles in their path. Efficient and unified, unlike Hussk’s and the leader’s movements, which were more pony-like. Especially the way the latter turned his head expectantly at my direction. I quickly searched for something to say, and settled on his last sentence. “You mentioned abilities?” He nodded. “Yes. You were chosen for your mission because of your skills in learning and adapting. The Queen only picked the best for the mission.” “Was that really wise, risking the best troops for an experimental assignment?” “The decision was made after extensive testing of the plan. You probably had your mind re-flashed probably a dozen or so times during that time. The issue wasn’t on her side, it must have been something with Canterlot in particular.” He went silent, leaving me with my thoughts. I didn’t feel particularly crafty, my grades have always been barely passing, but I always shone in the practical lessons and I did manage to slip through the hooves of the royal guard. The thought warmed my chest a little, before I realized I was entertaining the notion the commander had laid on me. I wanted to steer my mind elsewhere, but it refused to point to other than the darkness in my future. “How do you plan training me?” I asked, mainly to keep him talking, as he seemingly had no idea about my mindset. “We start with the basics in flight, shapeshifting, counter spells, and close quarters combat. Then, if time allows, we move on advanced practices. We don’t have the necessary equipment and trainers to do proper schooling, but you’ve perfected all of those in the past already. I don’t expect any major setbacks, and we should be able to get you the trigger in a few weeks at most.” “Right… I hope you won’t be disappointed.” He raised an eyebrow at me, giving again a strange equine-feel to himself. “Self-doubt is not beneficial. You’re a skilled agent. You have power in your veins.” Not one to sway, he was. “Did you mention pony patrols?” I asked, to steer the conversation from my alleged excellence. “Is there a town nearby?” “There is one, that way.” He indicated ahead. “We are to move there once we have either collected an agent or were driven out of the area.” That had to be the town in the distance I had seen before I fell from the sky. I wondered if, once perfecting shape-shifting, I would be able to sneak in and work on a plan forward. Preferably alone. “Is it far?” “A few days at most. You’ll be trained during rests, and maybe take part in reconnaissance as well.” “Why is that town so important?” He gave we a sidelong glance. “We need food the forest can’t provide. It’s been long since we last ate.” I turned my head forward and tried to act nonchalant. “Canterlot was too big a bite, wasn’t it?” He was silent for a few seconds. Just when I thought I said something wrong, he let out a sigh. “Maybe you’re right. I won’t question my Queen, though. We have a hunger we need to satisfy, a duty for our kind.” “Changelings really can’t live without love, can they?” I saw many ears turn my direction at that. The commander gave me another look. “Considering your unique position, your question is understandable, but excuse us if it strikes us as odd. It’s quite a basic need for us. Without love, we are weak, our wounds heal slower, and our magic is as feeble as a pony foal’s. Our mission is to reach our full potential, which sometimes necessitates violence.” “If I’m a secret changeling agent, as you said, how come I survived alone for years?” “But you were never truly alone, were you? Even if indirectly, there were always ponies in your vicinity who loved their fellow pony enough so you never starved too much.” But the ones who did love, or at least like me, never stuck around for more than a few months. I shook my head. There had to be another explanation to that fit my life… Or at least what I remembered to be my life. Dammit, how can I separate reality from assumptions when I can’t even trust my own memories? I gulped down any further remarks. I needed them believing I was on their side, at least for the time being. We walked on, our hooves thumping on the earth, as did my heart in my chest. As if looking for a divine answer I peered back up at Canterlot Mountain, just visible between the leaves. My life was still up there, waiting for me to pick up the end of its thread where it was forcefully torn from my hooves. *** “Where did you get these?” “From a pony squad, a few weeks back,” the leader of the changelings said. “Faster than building proper cocoons and much less likely to be noticed.” We had a long march behind us, but the town was getting closer, according to the commander. The walk in the forest gave me time to mull over the change and my new companions, and I was no longer getting the creeps every time I looked up and saw a bunch of changelings surrounding me. Maybe the tiredness played a part too. I looked around the military style tent the drones put up for the night. They managed to do it faster than I’ve ever seen ponies do. Going inside I grimaced, and gave the nearest cot a poke. It was just as hard as it looked, but lacked the smell one usually associated with such a place. Didn’t changelings have perspiration? The rest of the temporary campsite was set up with a lack of fuss that my former sergeants would have drooled over. The commander looked over the preparations, then turned to me. “Food will be ready in an hour or so.“ He hesitated before continuing, and earned a curious look from me. “If you don’t mind, I would like to know how it fares to regular pony food. We tried to heat up what we got from the squad, but the results were not exactly desirable, and I refuse to believe ponies have such bad taste in cuisine.” “I’m not what you call an expert, but… sure, I guess.” The thought of eating something other than grass and berries was certainly a pleasant one, even if it meant MREs. “I’d love to try some real food.” “Were they cooking that bad in Canterlot?” “What? Oh, no, I meant the berries in the forest. I haven’t had a proper meal in days.” “But you just crashed yesterday.” “Yes, but before the invasion I lived on sandwiches during my shifts. Never mind…“ My nose wrinkled. “Ugh… What’s that smell?” The commander flashed me a set of sharp teeth. “Not long from now, our dinner.” One and a half an hour of spending time getting to know some basics in changeling interactions and the hierarchy of their ranks later, I was sitting by the fireplace with a bowl of a steaming something between my hooves. My eyes wanted to just let it down the toilet, but my stomach thought it was worth growling over. I stared at it, torn between two opposite desires. I hated my new body. “Not enough?” The leader asked between bites. “I don’t know how much ponies usually eat in one sitting, but it couldn’t be much more.” “It’s meat.” He shrugged. “Yes. Meat is a basic part of our diet. We know ponies don’t eat such things, but you’re not a pony anymore.” I sniffed at the small brown lumps again but despite my belly’s demand, I just couldn’t bring myself to take even one bite. I set the bowl of stew aside and looked at the commander. “Do you happen to have some of that stuff you got from the guards?” “Sure, if you want, but it’s not much.” He ordered one of the drones nearby who soon put a plate of miserable, limp heap of what had once been a salad and a sandwich. Still, better than a dead animal. Halfway through the dinner break I left the changelings and went for a walk around the tents, with an attempt to clear my mind. I felt their eyes on my me the whole time at the fire. My solitude wasn’t long-lived, though. “Your taste is still like a pony’s, I assume.” I heard the steps as the changeling approached but my hopes of him simply ignoring me died when he addressed me. I turned my gaze at the bug. It took me a few seconds to place his voice, since they all looked the same. He was the commander’s consultant. “It is, I’m afraid.” I wished I had some water to wash away the taste of the ancient salad. “Well,” he said, stepping closer to me, “pony diet isn’t straightforward either. How did you manage to keep in mind what you’re supposed to eat and what not?” I shrugged. “You kinda grow into it. A decade later you would have had no problem.” I wasn’t sure why I was so forthcoming with these creatures. They were weird, alien, and unpleasant to be around. Maybe it was the reason that when they talked like ponies, I felt just a little less lost. My answer made my new companion’s eyebrows to shot up. “One decade? What in the world were you doing for… Oh, right.” My mouth twitched with a sarcastic smile. “Yes, secret agent and all that.” He looked around as if searching for something. “I’ve only heard that they existed… After it was clear that the experiment failed we moved on without them in mind. Or, at least, us common drones did, until this assignment. By the way, what do you say to some training? We don’t have much time before lights out.” I opened my mouth to protest on behalf of my full belly, but realized how small that meal actually was. So, I nodded. He led me to an open space behind the tents. The changeling stopped and turned to face me, and I had to admit I was kind of looking forward to learning more about my apparent abilities. “All right,” he said in a practiced tone. “I’m Hussk, second in command. I suppose since nobody around knows your real name, let’s stick with what ponies had called you.” At least that part of me didn’t change. “Sure. I’m Split Horizon.” “Split Horizon it is. First, let me see what you can do. At your pace.” I hesitated, then produced a few sparks. “And?” Hussk asked after I rubbed my forehead and just looked awkward. “I’m afraid that’s it,” I told him. “I did do a counter spell against a homeless unicorn back in Canterlot, but I haven’t been able to replicate it since. My wings are hurt from the crash. I do know some hoof-to-hoof combat, but-“ He raised a hoof. “I see. Not a problem. You’ll do magic in no time. You already know how to do it, after all.” He ignored my barely-silenced huff. “We’ll start with simple levitation and basic channeling, then move over to defense, then to transformation. I will get you a model to learn first.” For a second I forgot who I was talking to, and looked around anxiously. “Do you have a pony to stand model for me?” Hussk smirked. “In fact, we don’t.” He burst into green flames and when they died, an earth pony stallion stood in his place, with the same smirk on his lips. I gulped and was thankful changelings didn’t seem to be able to blush. The pseudo-pony enjoyed my reaction for a few seconds before changing back to Hussk. “I’m going to assume that was not the secret agent talking. Now buckle up, and open your ears. There are a few things about our magic you should know before we start.” From what I understood, changeling magic used the same fundamentals as unicorn magic, with slight differences I lacked the necessary background to grasp. It did involve channels and leylines and equilibrium and other interesting words, but the recurring theme was focus and practice, just like with any new skill. Also, with me being a trained agent and all, I shouldn’t have any trouble reaching the others’ level in a day or two, apparently. Hussk made it sound like a mere hiccup, but when it was time for demonstration, the hiccup turned into a choke. My horn flared the same shade of green as Hussk’s as the changeling shot another blast at me. I felt the magical field around me create a pattern and rush to my aid as I focused on blocking the attack. The blast dissolved inches before my horn, and the magic in the air normalized once again. I took a deep breath and beamed at my tutor, only to be forced to dodge yet again. This time the blast left a stinging sensation on my shoulder and my magic imploded even before I could call up the spell. “Don’t leave yourself open,” Hussk called out to me. He was standing several paces away, but his blasts needed only a fraction of a second to close the distance. I tried to come up with a snappy response but my thoughts were once again forced to turn to my horn. Casting the little shield spell Hussk had taught me was hard, but felt right, and I was beginning to see what I was doing wrong. Coupled with the slight shifts in the ambient magic surrounding me that indicated Hussk was about to release another attack, having a horn proved to be much more like a new limb than I had presumed. I suddenly regretted I didn’t pay closer attention in the Academy when they were talking about combating unicorns. The air shimmered again, and my counter-spell was up and ready to dissolve Hussk’s attack before breaking up a moment later. “All right,” Hussk said, walking up to me. “You can relax now.” I held my head up and realized just how tense I had become. I did a little trot in place to loosen up. “What’s next?” “Not tired, I see,” he said, appraisingly. “You live up to your reputation. Did you feel when I was about to hit you or was that just luck?” I felt a touch of pride. “I felt something each time, like a pattern in chaos. Is that common?” “Oh, yes, but only with the more talented officers. Common drones usually don’t have the fine sense to utilize magic the same degree. Now, little pupil, comes the big one. Do you need a breather?” “Let’s hit it.” “That’s the spirit. I’m going to give you a sample to memorize. Concentrate on the broad lines first, get the basic figure right. You can worry about the color and the details later.” The flames engulfed him, reminding me once again to the pink wall of burning pain and betrayal. Those thoughts were swept aside when the dark orange unicorn from earlier emerged from the transformation. “When you’re ready, focus on the image in your mind and pair it to your own body. Then, tap into your magic,” he said, his voice like a normal pony’s, but his intonation Hussk’s. “Let it flow through you and change you.” My confidence from the shield spell evaporated. “That’s it?” “If it doesn’t happen the first time, try again. Don’t target perfection yet. Try imagining you’re burned alive by your own magic, to emerge as the pony you’re trying to be. Trust me,” he added, when he saw my expression, “it doesn’t actually burn. It’s just… an illusion. Don’t worry about it. To change back, do the reverse.” I nodded, and took a step backwards to take in the pony before me. The thought that had been lurking at the back of my mind, to change back to my usual body and forget about this whole mess, came forward with full force. I gulped and showed it back. I needed to learn how to do it before making any plans based on that particular ability. I memorized Hussk’s patiently waiting disguise as much as I could, then closed my eyes and did as he had told me. For a time nothing happened, then like a broken dam, the magic washed over me, burning away my carapace in a green inferno that shone through even my closed eyelids. Hussk wasn’t telling the whole truth. It didn’t exactly burn, but it did sting. A lot. It receded after a few seconds on its own, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Even before I opened my eyes I could tell something had changed. I never realized how much I missed feeling the subtle touch of the air brushing against my coat. I took a peek at my hooves. They were orange and hole-less. “Excellent,” the other orange pony said. I eyed my work, having trouble believing how thorough the change was. Apart from something on my face, too short legs, a blank flank, and weird-looking tail, I was a normal pony again. I couldn’t help the huge grin spreading across my face. Hussk nodded. “Good work. You forgot your nose, but that’s all right. The proportions are off a little, too, but not too badly. The colors need…” I was only half-listening, instead only seeing the possibilities forming before my eyes. Finally, I had access to the best means of disguise anypony could ask for. All I needed to do was to choose a pony body and I could start over! Or, better yet… Ignoring Hussk’s monologue I closed my eyes again and pictured another pony. One that I was altogether familiar with. I let the flames burn away the imperfect orange one. “Whoa,” came the voice of Hussk, still as a pony, but the light beyond my eyelids indicated he quickly changed back. “Where did that come from?” A long sigh of relief escaped me and as I looked over myself. The whole world felt right again, to the smallest of details. I took a peek at my flank and the issue of my special talent crossed my mind, but the sight of my cutie mark tuned it out. “Now that’s better,” I muttered and looked at Hussk. My mood was immediately wounded. “Who’s that?” The suspicion his doubled-over voice brought me back to the real world. I dropped my gaze. “It’s... it’s my old body.” “Right.” He jabbed a hoof at me. “You still think you’re a pony.” I thought about it for a few seconds, evaluating just how I really felt. “Yes,” I said finally. “I do think that. Wouldn’t you in my place?” Hussk shook his head. “Listen… The fact is that you are a changeling, and no matter what you feel or think, it’s not going to change. Whatever the reason you got stuck with the memories you got for your mission, you can’t let them control you. You belong to the Hive. You will forget this body and never use it again. Understood?” From the corner of my eye, I noticed a red-ribboned changeling casually observing the stitching on the closest tent, conveniently in earshot. I brushed my mane from my eyes. “Understood.” He nodded, but if he believed me, it was kept hidden behind those expressionless eyes. “Don’t take it personally. I’m here to help you. Now back to business. Where were we...? Oh, yes. Changing back.” I got the hint. Getting rid of my beloved pony-ness proved to be much easier to do than the other way around. I ignored the implications of that. “Good job. Take a breather if you need to, then try the orange unicorn once more. I’ll model for you again. Work on those details.” The ease of which my original earth pony body came to me was not even in the same league as that orange stranger. Ten minutes later there was nothing else on my mind, but tiny details. I might have even enjoyed the training, if Hussk weren’t so fixated on me getting every little thing just so. Finally, he was satisfied. “Alright, take a good look at yourself. This level of precision is required to blend among ponies. They don’t always voice it, they can spot it if there is something wrong. Nowadays, it’s especially important to keep that in mind.” I wanted to make a remark, but was too busy admiring my work. The shock value of looking at myself but seeing an alien pony had worn off a while ago, but now it struck me again. The changeling exterior was somewhat easy to dismiss, but what I was looking at now would have passed as an entirely new pony. I wondered just who this one was before meeting Hussk. I looked at the changeling sitting on the ground. “Can I ask something?” He nodded. “What would happen if I met the pony who I… borrowed the looks from?” His ears perked up. I must have struck something. “The simple answer,” he told me, his voice hitting a conversational tone, “is to avoid contact with the source. Best case scenario, they just pretend their imagination had played with them. Worse case, they realize there is a changeling who is stealing their looks.” “And there is a worst?” “It’s when they require therapy to recover from seeing their doppelganger. Areas where changeling are only a myth a pony’s first thought isn’t that a shape shifter might be around, and they jump to whatever they think the truth might be, sometimes with amusing results.” “Don’t stop there. What’s the worst about that?” He smirked. “You haven’t heard anything up there, in the big city? Something like fear of being killed by their look-alike without anypony else noticing?” I opened my muzzle, but a thought made me reform my answer. “Isn’t that what changelings do in the first place?” Hussk grinned and stood up. “It’s like they know what’s coming at them from the shadows, isn’t it? Even at the height of their civilization, they still think like prey.” I got up as well, mostly to face Hussk from the same height. My heartbeat was audible in my ears. “Are they just that for you? For the changelings? Prey to hunt?” He raised an eyebrow at my indignant tone. “Let me tell you something.” He stepped up to me, making me almost back up instinctively. He ignored it. “There are those who see changelings as their equal. Those are not required to feed on such a thing they reserve only for their kin. So, we take what we need. I suggest you find that sentimental part in you, take a deep breath, and stomp on it until there’s nothing left, because if you want to take their side, you can. Just mind who you alienate in the process.” I realized I did take a step back. My answer was ready on my lips, but I remembered the commander was still nearby, and simply nodded instead. He glanced around, then, with an even lower voice, addressed me again. “Seriously, don’t go around talking like that. We need you, and you need us. Consider this a contract, if nothing else.” A heavy silence fell upon the clearing. I could hear the other campers moving about and talking to each other. Their voices, similar to one another blended together, like bees in a pond, alien and alarming. To avoid them stinging me, I had to lay low and hold my tongue. Hussk was eyeing me, waiting. I stood straight and returned his gaze. “Advice noted. Sorry if I’m having trouble adjusting.” “A ‘sorry’ doesn’t always buys you a way out. Let’s get on with the rest, though. Night is falling.” I burned the orange pony away, and listened to Hussk talking about memorizing those little details. I found myself smiling over the fact that, apparently, changeling officers have made a game out of collecting as many different pony forms and personalities as possible, complete with matching backstories. “How many have you got?” Hussk puffed out his chest. “I have currently one hundred and forty-one memorized. This one is the latest. He’s from an encounter in the forest a couple of days ago. If you really want to see something remarkable, ask the commander. He’s supposed to have nearly three hundred ponies in his head. You just entered the game yourself, I believe.” I merely gave a polite smile. “As much as a game it sounds, though,” Hussk continued on, ”it’s very much serious. It’s our life and our purpose to leverage our skills to benefit the Hive.” He went silent, as though waiting for me to say something. “I think I understand.” I said cautiously. “What’s important is that you never lose yourself in a body that isn’t you. You are, and always will be, a changeling.” He stepped up to me and gave my left wing a nudge. “Are your wings mended yet?” I gave a few experimental flaps, and my frown was answer enough. “We’ll wait with the flying, then. Let me show you your place for the night.” The cot Hussk pointed at when he said ‘your bed’ was more like a rough bag of hay hastily flattened and placed on the ground, but I had to admit, I slept better than ever did since the spell. A relatively full belly and a sense of safety from these creatures, who saw kin in me, was no doubt part of it. Sleep itself didn’t come after the tent’s entrance was closed and the two changelings I shared the tent with stopped talking with each other. I couldn’t stop thinking about my foggy future, a mess I could see myself lose my essence. Despite still thinking about myself as a pony, logic kept pointing its stubborn hoof at the facts against it. I wanted to have at least a say in the matter before they went and took my identity from me. I had to come up with a plan as soon as I could. I needed to keep my eyes wide open the next few days.