//------------------------------// // 16. Failure // Story: Dear Small Pony Book // by Carapace //------------------------------// Dear Small Pony Book, Behold! As promised, I have returned to rescue you from the most terrible fate of a “cliffhanger”—plus one excitable friend and a cupcake or twelve shared on a tray between us. I make no apologies for my gluttony, no matter how much it may stereotype me in this instant. These cupcakes are deliciously sweet, sweeter than love itself and are clearly the work of some higher being or eldritch horror the likes of which no mere changeling could possibly hope to comprehend. Naturally, I’ve already had six. Don’t tell my hosts or Princess Twilight.* But now is not the time to discuss my cupcake consumption. When last I left you, the foals were going to hide and I was going to seek them out after several rounds slanted in my favor. As if hide and seek would be unfavorable for me. I had to pause a moment just now to allow Pinkie Pie a chance to get her mirth under control. As you might guess, Small Pony Book, finding a herd of little ponies plus one dragon … well, for a changeling, it’s not exactly a difficult task. It’s what my kind has done since we came from Emerald Isle. It’s in our nature, and it’s something we train and hone our skills to perfection in every generation—even I was no different. Finding little fillies and a baby dragon. Simple. My nose alone would suffice to sniff each of them out, not to mention my tongue tasting every bit of their emotions. But that would hardly be sporting, and after I made my talent for hiding and sneaking about plainly clear with several rounds of near effortless victory, I was feeling quite magnanimous. To that end, I promised to forgo use of my nose and empathic tasting so long as they agreed not to use one of their number as a sacrifice so the rest could rush for base. “You all were able to work as a team to try and find me,” I explained. “I’m alone, so having one distract me while the rest of you run would be unfair. Especially since I agreed not to fly or shapeshift.” They didn’t even counsel. Instead, they shared looks and seemed to hold some silent debate with one another, each weighing what chance they might have against me, a natural predator, if they didn’t accept my limitations upon them in exchange for a rather generous handicap. I admit I was rather proud to see irritation flash across Spike and Sweetie Belle’s faces as they grudgingly accepted my terms. What a clever pair they were, and I must count myself doubly proud of Spike for holding a filly with such a cunning mind in his circle. One should always have a good conspirator. Princess Cadence and Prince-Captain Shining Armor were most certainly mine.** Once they’d all given their word and I turned away to prompt them to go hide, I sat back on my haunches and listened to the sound of their little hooves pounding against the ground with all the grace and subtlety of an angry cave troll. In the meantime, I turned my gaze skyward (remember, no flying means they can’t say I’m watching them go hide on a cloud) and began to count to one hundred as I enjoyed the sight of a nice, clear day. It was a rather lovely one for a game of hide and seek, you know. I think you would have enjoyed the chance to sit outside and spread your pages while we took in the sun. Perhaps we’ll do that once we’re back home. Princess Cadence does enjoy sitting out in that odd little box-circle thing with Shining and my Overlay. We could always ask to join them, if they allow it.*** As I reached one hundred, I made sure to call out loud and clear for my opponents to hear, “Ready or not! Here I come!” Then, I perked my earfins to listen out for any panicked cries or that last little scramble of hooves as their owner hurried to find a hiding spot. Any would do, they no doubt thought. And, much to my dissatisfaction, there were both of those things and more. I heard no less than five little squeals, hooves scraping against the well-trodden dirt path, a grunt of exertion and sudden oof and rustling of foliage as they dove for cover. Then came a smattering of giggles from all around me. As if I needed further hinting where my quarry had hidden themselves. I sighed and brought a hoof to my faceplate. “Really? When I’m being sporting with this? By the First Mother’s fangs, really?” I found myself grumbling. Was this what Pharynx felt like when he was first teaching me to shapeshift and move about unseen? This consternation with it all? If I ever saw him again, I might have to ask him. Well, if he doesn’t hit me for not attacking my hosts and feasting upon their love, that is. I kept true to my word, Small Pony Book. I neither smelled nor tasted for their emotions, my attempt to make things as balanced as possible. But there was only so much I could do when my opponents wouldn’t stop giggling and squealing and whispering, “Oh nonono! He’s coming this way!” under their breaths. With an almost exasperated sigh, I moved to the bushes nearest the fountain and brushed a few branches aside to fix the pair of fillies hiding within with a flat stare. “Next time,” I said as I swiftly tapped each upon the head, “don’t giggle. Or whisper. Or pick such an obvious hiding spot near the base.” Their whines and piteous pouting nearly made my chest ache. I was almost driven to linger and try to offer some measure of comfort of softening my critique, but I shook my head. I was hardly wrong in what I said or rude in how I did. Besides, they wouldn’t learn if I didn’t instruct. Quickly, I turned to scan my surroundings for any daring little foals or dragons trying to sneak behind me to secure an easy win. Lucky me that I had! For in that instant, I noticed three of the little would-be tricksters—Rumble among them—galloping toward the fountain, their ears splayed for speed, mouths tugging into wide grins, and eyes wide and fixed upon their goal. Worse, they were all spread out, so there was no possible way for me to catch them all at once. Well, at least they hadn’t quite cheated. I dashed forth, hissing in challenge as I tried to head off the nearest foal. My earfins twitched at the sound of eager laughter and cheering from the hidden foals. The nearest foal, a tiny little earth pony with splotchy coat, squeaked as I bore down upon him and cut him off from the fountain, instead driving him to turn away to try and lose me the old-fashioned way. Unwise. He should’ve risked beating me to the fountain. At least then, he might have been able to slip under my grasp. A pair of victorious cries of “Base!” only spurred me on further. I put on an extra burst of speed, my longer legs and years of training hunting down ponies played well into catching up to my overlady when she decided it was time to flee, and in pulling right alongside this fleeing colt. I didn’t tag him with my hoof, for I worried that I might throw him off balance and send him into a rather unpleasant tumble across the dirt path. One can imagine the scrapes and bruises that might have caused. Instead, in more an instinctual move, I struck as though I were going to pick up a naughty little nymph by the dorsal fin—just sub in that rather fleshy spot on the back of a pony’s neck, the perfect handle for me to grab with my incisors and lift him straight off the ground, his tiny hooves still flailing about in the air. “Oh, blast me tail!” he cried, huffing as he crossed his forehooves over his chest. His stubby little tail flicked. Squirming, he tried to slip free of my grasp, but ended up wincing in pain instead. My teeth are quite sharp and made both for tearing and gripping prey. Such a move was quite unwise. Placing him down gently, I tapped his head with a hoof. “Close, but too obvious,” I chided. “You should have waited until I was checking a spot farther from the fountain and moved quietly.” That I had done the same when they were seeking me went unsaid. Though I did think it. Still, he huffed and scuffed his hoof against the ground before he trotted over to sit with the others where Rumble was currently fluffing his feathers and preening like he’d just been named prince for a day. Frankly? I could give him that one. He’d gotten even with me for sneaking by him in the previous round. Though, I will note with pride (and a merry trilling buzz) that his was nowhere near as spectacular. This, to my undying chagrin, would serve as a bit of a theme for the rest of our game. I would have to keep an eye out and not linger too long on the foals lest their fellows make a run. I only said they couldn’t do so as a group. Individually? Truly, I must commend the ingenuity of foals. They abuse loopholes as well as any changeling worth their carapace. However, they weren’t dealing with another pony. Deserter or not, I am a changeling. I would uphold what honor we had, however little. I widened my large, teal eyes and swiveled my head about, ready to take in every bit of visual input possible. A little shift here and there, an odd rustling of foliage, even a little flash of colorful mane or eyes were all I needed to dash forward and drag a squealing, giggling little colt or filly from their hiding place. Some did manage to bolt, they even made it a few steps before either they tripped, caught by that fit of mirth or I picked them up just as I had the little one by the fountain, but the one or two who managed to dart by and make a break for it gave me the most irritation. Because, naturally, as i would begin to give chase and try to herd them away from the fountain, another little one would sneak over to claim base. Were it not for my vow not to sniff them out, this would have been an easy victory. But with the two or three out of the dozen or so foals sitting on the fountain ledge, lording their victory over their fellows, I felt a burn deep within my chest, my belly. I felt it rise into the back of my throat, stinging like bile. Failure. A wretched word in the hive. Failure was unacceptable. Failure to capture a bunch of little foals playing a game we changelings had mastered like none before or since was tantamount to sacrilege. Had this been a trial, were I still a member of the hive under the watchful eye of either my family or one of the swarm leaders, I would have been lucky to receive a bite and dose of venom as my only punishment. I might have earned another visit from her. I swallowed a mouthful of slime at those memories. Really, I was doing that far more than I felt comfortable on this trip. First fillies, now this? Mere memories? What changeling feared such things?**** Still, I had allowed far too many to make it to base. That wouldn’t do at all. I did a quick count and found, much to my delight (and quite a bit of relief) neither Spike nor his little band of friends. This, I found acceptable. I could allow three foals their victory so long as I denied them. Call it my competitiveness bleeding through. If Pharynx could see me now … But as I noted this, something occurred to me: I hadn’t seen hide, hair, or scale of the foursome. They hadn’t so much as made an attempt at the fountain before being driven off. Curious, no? Immediately, my mind leapt to conjure the worst possible case scenario. What if they’d gotten themselves into trouble finding some difficult hiding place? Princess Twilight had specifically mentioned their talent for getting into danger, and then covered in tree sap and bark. If they weren’t making some move for base … Well. I could allow a few foals to best me in hide and seek. I would not allow my friend and his to be hurt while under my watch. Turning to the group of foals gathered around the fountain, I leveled them with a questioning look. “I don’t suppose any of you would have seen Spike, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, or Scootaloo?” I asked. “Haven’t since we all went and hid, but there’s no way we’re ratting them out!” Rumble retorted, his wings flared in open challenge, and to cheers of agreement from the others. Their voices seemed to lend him some sort of inner strength. He flew up so he was nose to nose with me and dared to snort in my face. “They’re gonna find their way back to base faster than even you can hunt! This time, you’re gonna be the one left in the dust!” I decided there was little need to remind him that I’d caught most of his friends, therefore it the numbers were still in my favor. He seemed to be operating under the same thought I was: any foal making it to base was a loss. Crack my carapace. With a sigh, I turned away from the grinning, teasing foals and began to walk down the path, my eyes wide and scanning this way and that to search out the little miscreants. The sounds of hooves clip-clopping their cadence against the ground drew a flick of my earfins, then a slow turn to glance back over my shoulder and arch my brow at my crowd of tagalongs. “You against the Crusaders and Spike,” one little filly with blue-rimmed glasses and pewter coat said, a hint of a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Somepony or somedragon or somechangeling is going to end up covered in sap. No way any of us are missing that!” I would like to say I didn’t shudder, Small Pony Book. But I shouldn’t lie to myself. Or my hosts. Or you, my friend. With that said, I was not quite ready for the sight which greeted me when I did turn my gaze up the path. My only warning was a sudden bark of laughter from one of the stallions in the market, then a roll of mirth through the center of town. I heard teasing quips and hooves thumping against wooden stalls, lost to their mirth. Even then, even with all that, I was not ready. Even as my eyes fell upon what could only be described as a strange blob looking amalgamation of some sticky goop, leaves, and twigs, my brain simply didn’t register what I saw. Then I realized there was not just one of these strange abominations to sight—there were four. My heart sank into my hooves. “Oh, no,” I muttered, my earfins already pinning with each step closer those figures took. For with each step they did take, I was able to make out their appearances more clearly. The fillies’ manes draped and clung to their heads as if they’d been dunked in water and then glued into place, their coats were matted and twisted and littered with twigs, leaves, and dirt. Upon once vibrant purple scales and green scales, I saw the same, though with some rather interesting rivets of that sticky goop. Then, the scent of something sickly sweet reached my nose. Tree sap. Behind me, I heard the foals break out into shrieks of laughter and hooves thudding against the ground. Meanwhile, I was trying to fight off a low, mournful groan mixed with a chitter. They’d gotten into trouble and made a mess of themselves—Princess Twilight explicitly asked me to make sure that didn’t happen! And tree sap! That was part of the order! That groaning chitter rolled about in the back of my throat (and as I write this, Pinkie has made it a point to soothingly pet my dorsal fin and offer comfort that trying to prevent the fillies from their camaraderie with tree sap is a fool’s errand) and that blasted burn within my chest sank deep into my belly and turned into nausea. I’d failed. Again. My dismay was worn plain upon my face, a fact which no doubt played a part in the matching sheepish grins worn on theirs as they came to a stop a mere three or four steps from me and then tried to look innocent. Innocent while covered from head to hoof to tail in sap, bark, twigs, and leaves—and Princess Twilight’s orders echoed in my head as I surveyed them each in turn. “How?” I heard myself ask. “Er, well,” Spike began, scratching his headfin with a goopy claw. “We were kinda thinking we could hide a bit farther toward the edge of town.” “Timber Spruce has a lil’ tree farm for lumber out west, toward Cloudsdale,” Apple Bloom supplied. Trailing a hoof in a wide arc in the dirt, she shifted. “So, we thought we’d go hide and come up with a lil’ somethin’ to help us get a quicker start on the run if ya found us.” “A little something?” I arched a brow and made it a point to eye their appearances, my gaze lingering upon each in turn. They took it as prompting to reveal the mastermind of this little escapade. Or, in this case … Spike and Apple Bloom stepped back so Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle could stand at the forefront of their little group. To their credit, they had the grace to look down at their hooves and pin their ears. It was Sweetie who spoke up first, “I was thinking we could use our old slingshot from when we were looking for our cutie marks. So, we rigged it up and had it ready to fire.” Her head snapped up, she affixed Scootaloo with a baleful glare even I felt. “And then this feather-brained ninny tripped it before you even came looking!” “Hey! I told you we needed to test it! It’s not my fault you guys didn’t get out of the dang way!” Scootaloo spat. “Saying it while you’re tripping the stupid thing isn’t exactly a warning, doofus!” I glanced back and forth between them, watching in some strange mix of silent bemusement and ire, growing with each passing word. For with each they spoke, my failure was only further affirmed. They were a mess. They had gotten into trouble. All under my watch. Clearly, there was only one way to redeem myself. “Enough!” I cut across them. Stepping close, I looked down upon them, looming over therewith a stern gaze. “Princess Twilight asked that I keep the four of you out of trouble, but I have obviously failed in this task. This is unacceptable.” Each filly blinked and tilted their heads. “Huh?” they intoned. Spike groaned and brought a claw to his forehead. “Oh for the love of—Thorax, c’mon, you’re not our foalsitter. Twilight’s just being a worrywart.” “Whether or not she has warts is not my concern, Spike. Nor is it my business.” “That’s not what I—oh, forget it. Look, it’s fine—” “It most certainly is not!” I cut him off with a resolute stomp of my hoof. “I was given an order and have failed in execution. Thus, I am now faced with fixing the problem.” The foursome shared uneasy looks. “Uh …” I pointed to each of them in turn. “You will accompany me to the castle and be washed clean of this … filth. Immediately.” “Excuse me?” Scootaloo flared her wings. “We’ll keep playing if we want, buster! Who put you in charge?” There is a trick we changelings do when we wish to look stern and bring nymphs in line—no, it’s not snarling or hissing or baring our fangs or snapping at them, those come after this. You see, our eyes … our eyes are rather big. Bigger than ponies’. And to ponies, they appear quite off-putting, or so I hear. To that end, I looked into Scootaloo’s eyes and widened mine as far as they would go. “Princess Twilight Sparkle,” I said slowly, taking only a little pride in how she folded her wings and pinned her ears. “You will be cleaned of this filth one of two ways—you may maintain your dignity and walk through town with me, or I will cocoon and carry you like luggage.” Again, they shared a look. Slowly, their little faces split into wicked grins. “We pick option three!” Sweetie said. “There is no option three.” No, really. Of all my failings, counting isn’t one of them. “Oh, yes there is!” Spike put in. “You never caught us! So the game is still on!” I blinked. “What?” “You wanna make us take a bath?” Scootaloo began. “You’re gonna have to catch us first!” Apple Bloom finished. Before I could even secrete my first payload of slime, they dashed off down the same path they’d come, hotting and laughing their little heads off. And that of their fellows behind me mixed with it all. I sighed again. “Really?” Turning my gaze skyward, I shook my head. As far as I was concerned, the game was quite over the moment they decided to use a slingshot as part of this game. By the First Mother’s blessed fangs, I didn’t even stop to note their ingenuity and cleverness for thinking it, my ire was so great! I would find and retrieve them. My nose had yet to fail me. Nor had my slime glands. I believe I made mention of the ease with which I found the foals without my sense of smell or empathic tasting. As you might imagine, Small Pony Book, it was no great task to locate my friend and his with them. You see, ponies are not so built for hiding, nor are dragons. Their colors are vibrant, unsuited for concealing themselves without some sort of cloth, spell, or covering oneself in dirt and leaves, they carry rather distinctive scents—those in this area smelled quite a bit like apples, especially those of the Apple family. Scootaloo smelled of sweat, Sweetie of light perfume and fabric, and Spike of smoke, no doubt a testament to the fire within his belly. Those scents alone would have been enough for me to track down the path, straight toward the one which led to the sprawling land of Sweet Apple Acres, toward the rows upon rows of apple trees. Of course, there was also that one, small detail that they were each slathered in tree sap that smelled so sickly sweet I could positively taste it upon my tongue. Though the look Pinkie shot me as I relayed this to her prompted an assurance that I was referring only to the sap. Anyway. I drew in a deep sniff as I came to the main gate, and was met with the scents of the wayward fillies and my friend. They had come this way. A quick glance about made me frown. Sweet Apple Acres … well, I described it as sprawling land with an orchard that had rows upon rows of apple trees. I have failed to do justice to its size. Let us say, for the sake of argument, that we are on the grounds of Canterlot Castle—that is about the size of their land, from wall to wall. Now imagine extending another half outward, and that is their orchard. A daunting area to search, but my nose would at least help give me the right direction. Think of it like a bloodhound, if you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting one—powerful noses, those creatures, though quite mild until roused, despite the name. “Howdy there, Thorax,” I heard Applejack call from off in the direction of the barn. Turning, I found her trotting toward me, her pale orange coat matted with sweat and a thin layer of dirt which could only come from a hard day’s work on the farm. As she came to a stop a few steps away, she tipped her stetson back and greeted me with a nod. “What brings you out to these parts?” The game was over, so I decided that there was little harm in seeking a little help. I relayed the tale as quickly and concisely as possible, so not to overload her with information or lose her interest. Applejack showed signs of neither. Like a swarm leader, or perhaps more like Shining Armor hearing guard reports, she stood with open ears and listened, only interrupting for clarification as to why I felt tasked with such a duty and how I came to be in a miniature game of hide and seek with the little ones. In fact, she slowly began to smile, and full on laughed when I mentioned the state they in which walked down that path. “Lan’ sakes, those three fillies! ’N Spike, too!” She shook her head, her smile still in place. “Well, ya best get a move on, I reckon. They went scamperin’ out into the orchard, so they probably went and hid in their clubhouse. Good luck gettin’ ‘em outta there.” “Oh, as long as I can find them, I will.” I pointed to my mouth. “I can cocoon them just fine and carry them. The trouble will be dealing with the four of them squirming through town.” “Right.” She did her best to mask that little flicker of squeamishness that flashed across her face, but it was there all the same. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced by a contemplative frown. “Y’know, I just might have a big ol’ basin we can dunk ‘em in so ya don’t have to carry ‘em back through town. Get ‘em cleaned quicker that way, too.” My earfins perked. “You’ll help me?” Applejack bobbed her head. “You’re a friend of Spike’s ’n Twilight’s, a pretty dang good one for Shinin’ ’n Princess Cadence, I hear tell you’re great with lil’ Flurry, and you’ve been nothin’ but a good colt since ya showed up. Wouldn’t mind callin’ ya one of mine as well.” Pausing a moment, she winked. “Plus, anypony or changeling willin’ to keep my lil’ sis ’n her crew in line is aces in my book.” I daresay my chest filled with the same warmth which flooded my very being when Princess Celestia blessed me with a mere sip of her love. Another friend! Bobbing my head, I voiced my thanks and vowed to retrieve the wayward foals and dragon, then scurried off to find my quarry once more, my nose to the ground as I tracked their scents. It was only a matter of time before I found this “clubhouse” they’d cloistered up in. My redemption was at hoof. I would not fail a third time in one day, Small Pony Book. That, I vowed on my Name and eggshell. As I journeyed into the orchard, I actually found myself quite thankful the fillies and Spike had gotten covered in sap and muck. Had they been clean, it might have been a more difficult task picking up their scents in this place. The smell of apple was thick, permeating my every breath. Little Apple Bloom would have almost certainly been able to evade my senses for quite some time were it not for that sap. Still, though, that was only if I closed off my remaining senses. Namely, my hearing. For you see, Small Pony Book, tracking a bunch of naughty little fillies and one stubborn baby dragon friend on its own wouldn’t be much of a difficult task—again, their scents are distinct, Apple Bloom aside, they’re colorful, and there’s really no way to get around my empathic taste. However, all of those become moot when one considers just how easy it is to track them when they simply won’t stop giggling. Sighing in mild disappointment at such inability to hide had seemingly become a theme for the day. I was able to find their clubhouse and circle around without being noticed. My eyes were wide, fixated upon the lone window and doorway. I did a quick little circuit about, using my natural colors to blend into my surroundings so I could ensure there would be no clever sneaking out a backdoor while I cocooned one or two of their number. There was none. A grin bloomed across my face, displaying the full array of my sharpened teeth. If they couldn’t escape, then this would be a simple matter entirely. So why bother sneaking around? I stepped out of the shadows and stuck my chin out in open challenge. From within the clubhouse, I heart a chorus of squeaks, laughter, and Sweetie Belle crying, “Oh, horseapples! He found us!” “He has indeed,” I called back. I took one step forward, lowering my head, ready to dash in and snag each of them. “Last chance. Come quietly or I’ll come in and get you myself.” There was a delay of maybe three seconds. Then, Scootaloo stuck her head out the window and dared to blow a raspberry, cross her eyes, and waggle her little ears at me. “Come on in, if you think you can!” she taunted before pulling her head back inside to another chorus of laughter. If I thought I could? She would be the first, I decided. If I had time, I might even let her hang upside down for a bit while I rounded up the others. With a hiss, I shot forward like a bolt from a crossbow, climbing the short ladder in the blink of an eye and entering with my fangs bared. I loomed over the foursome, leveling them with a dangerous look as I began to secrete slime. That was when their barely stifled smiles bloomed into wicked grins. But none so broad s my own friend’s. “Now!” Spike cried. From behind their backs, each of the little miscreants pulled out a strange cylindrical can with some sort of nozzle attached to the end. They pressed down on the nozzles before I could even think to wonder what might be inside those cans—with a shrill hissing, tendrils of strange foam shot forth from each of the cans and clung to my face. A counterattack! Panicking, I reared back, flailing my hooves as I hastened to pry the offending gunk off my faceplate. It covered my eyes and hugged my fangs like honey stolen from the hive, but tasted bitter, like some sort of chemicals had been mixed together to form this … whatever it was! “Silly string attack!” the fillies crowed. I staggered left and bumped into the wall, I could hear their little hooves thud against the wood as they passed me by, spraying off the last of their payload along my carapace while they bound for the doorway. But as they did, I heard Scootaloo add, “That’ll teach you to threaten to cocoon the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” My blood boiled. I would not accept failure again! I tore that disgusting “silly string” off my faceplate and threw it across the clubhouse, where it struck and stuck to the far wall with a muffled thud. Then, I bounded after them, just in time to see them hit the ground below and take off running. Or so they intended. Filling my mouth with slime, I spat a thick glob that arced over their heads and landed perfectly just in front of them as their hooves (and Spike’s clawed feet) were about to hit the ground. They didn’t even have the chance to yelp and try to alter course before they ran right over top it, and my slime greeted their efforts to continue by engulfing and clutching at them, dragging them right back into place with a rubbery stretching sound that was almost as musical as their cries of protest and indignation. “Ugh! Gross!” Scootaloo gagged. “Thorax, I thought you were kidding about this stuff!” Sweetie tried to prance and squirm out, to no avail. “Get me out! Get me out! Get me out!” I smirked, approaching slowly, my wings buzzing a musical trill as I walked around so I could meet their eyes. “I warned you what would happen if you ran,” I said. “That you do not like the consequences of your failure to listen is of no fault but your own. And now, you will be cocooned, as promised, and carried to where Miss Applejack has set up a wash basin. Further resistance, I’m afraid, is quite futile, and will only make me wrap you tighter.” “Wait, what? You told her?” Apple Bloom gaped. Her struggles to escape my slime doubled. “Don’t you dare! She’ll get that brush with all the rough bristles!” There was no reason to bother replying. My mouth had already refilled with slime. Instinct took over, I was upon Scootaloo, coating her in the thick, sticky substance and swiftly wrapping it around her, forming a tight cocoon that kept her hooves pinned in place so she couldn’t wriggle free, leaving only her head and shoulders uncovered—this was just a capture wrap, not a full cocoon like those we hung from ceilings or caves. I didn’t want to frighten the poor filly. The others followed in short order. Once I’d finished, I rolled them together, then spat a thick stream of slime to connect each cocoon like one of the straps I’d seen on luggage. I am not the most brilliant changeling, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have my moments. There would be no multiple trips, allowing the others a chance to see if they could escape somehow. Impossible, of course, but I wasn’t taking chances. I picked the cocooned fillies and dragon up by my makeshift strap and began to march out of the orchard to where Applejack awaited, heralded by a chorus of grunting, huffing, and protesting as my captives still tried to escape. “So unfair!” Spike moaned. He made eye contact with me and shot me his most pleading look. “You’d really side with Twilight over your best friend?” Guilting me. And effective, to boot. I felt a pang shoot through my chest. Then I remembered that my friend was a mess because he’d done what Princess Twilight warned me about and gotten into trouble with the fillies. “Yeff,” I deadpanned through a mouthful of slime strap. Leveling him with a stern look, I added, “Varned ‘oo ah ‘ood ‘o ‘iff! Vut ‘i’in’ ‘isten!” I won’t bore you with the argument that ensued from there—their keening whines against my flat, muffled voice. The cajoling and pleading didn’t stop until I deposited them in front of Applejack and the water basin and sliced open Spike’s cocoon. I wasn’t fool enough to open them all at once, and for good reason. He made an admirable attempt to spring free, but I caught him as he leapt out of his wrap. With a stern nip to his earfins, I dumped him in the water and loomed over both the basin and the cocooned fillies while Applejack set about scrubbing him clean, my eyes wider than any pony’s could go. They got the message that time. But that didn’t mean they stopped complaining all the while. I will confess, I felt quite a bit prideful as we trotted through town toward the Castle of Friendship. The guffaws and chortles that filled the air as the townsponies grinned and waggled their ears, whispering to one another as they eyed the quartet trailing in my wake were a testament both the speed with which the others relayed the tale and the looks of utmost discontent on each of their faces. Prideful probably wasn’t quite enough to describe me at that moment. Smug. I was a very, very smug changeling. A smug-ling, if you will. My dear friend and his own had dared to challenge me, you see. I had proven this unwise and educated them that changelings were indeed superior when it came to hiding and seeking, especially in seeking out a bunch of naughty little ones who made a mess of themselves then refused to come along when one given a Royal Order commanded they be cleaned. Their grumbles and glares did little to rob me of my victory or my smile. In fact, it only made me aim a fanged grin at them. Which, in turn, earned a renewed bout of grumblings. “Don’t give me that,” I chided as we rounded the bend and trotted up the pathway leading to the crystalline building. “I did warn you. And I offered you the choice twice.” “Those bristles were rough,” Apple Bloom growled. Her little red tail flicked. “And that gunk was gross!” “My slime is not gunk, that stuff you shot into my face was gunk. Tasted disgusting, too. You put it right into my fangs.” “First off, that was silly string. Second, the hay’s the difference? If you’re gonna call that gunk, your slime is the same thing!” “My slime is organic, can be ingested without fear of illness, and serves a purpose either for me to sleep or capture prey. Or, in this case, naughty little fillies and a dragon.” Arching a brow, I added, “And I reiterate: if I had put you in a full cocoon, with the sleeping solution and all, you would have still been able to breathe and wouldn’t have made you sick.” Feeling cheeky, I leaned down so I was almost nose to nose with her. “Therefore, my slime is functional and not gunk.” Her eyes narrowed. For a moment, I thought she might have more to add. Instead, she merely stayed silent and trudged along by my side. “Didn’t even get his dang cutie mark in seeking ponies,” Scootaloo groaned. “This is, like, the worst!” Again, I found myself forced to swallow yet another reminder that changelings did not earn cutie marks. Mimic, yes. Earn, no. But, I did manage it. They were already quite dismayed at having been cocooned and scrubbed, there was little reason to add insult to injury. Even if they did deserve that scrubbing. As we entered the castle, we found Princess Twilight and Shining Armor chatting away with Starlight in the sitting room, each lounging on one of the plush cushions while Cadence and Sunburst entertained my overlady. Naturally, it was Flurry who heard my steps and greeted me first. With a squeal, she launched herself into the air and flew over, latching onto my face and babbling a greeting. Her little tail swished and tickled my nose. I sneezed, but smiled. “Hello, Flurry.” If I could have nuzzled her, I would have, but I had to settle for waggling my earfins. “Tora, Tora!” She planted a kiss between my eyes, giggling at the way I crossed them. She loved my eyes so. “Furry s’im!” “I heard! Was it fun?” The giggles and swishing tail were a testament to how much fun she had. And the happy nuzzling I received as she began to climb over my head to find her place upon my back was more than enough to earn pardon for any hooves she planted in my nose or eye. “I think she missed her favorite changeling,” Princess Cadence said with a warm smile. “How was playing with the foals?” From her place on the couch, Princess Twilight added, “I heard around town they got into a bit of trouble. But it looks like you’ve managed to get them out of it.” She raised her brows. “And clean of any sap.” Another chorus of grumbling behind me drew a smile. “Applejack was quite helpful in that. After I caught them.” “’N wrapped us in cocoons, ya jerk!” Apple Bloom blurted. That drew raised brows from all around. “Cocoons?” Shining asked, his expression demanding explanation. I nodded once and gave them a quick recounting of the tale, how they had gotten covered in that mess and then run when I demanded they return to the castle for bathing. All to their chagrin, of course. The adults seemed to consider this a moment. Then, Shining smiled. “Well, I would say not to cocoon them, but—” he aimed a look at my grumbly compatriots ”—if they’re going to run off like that, I suppose we can let it slide here.” “Agreed,” Princess Cadence put in. A gleam shone in her eyes. “Though, perhaps we might discuss something with the fillies. Shining?” His ears twitching, Shining smiled. “Ah, yes, yes. Girls, would you mind? You’re not in trouble, but we have a little … something planned. Spike, you too.” “Thorax?” Princess Twilight said as my companions left with my hosts, leaving me with only Flurry, the mares, and Sunburst. “Would you mind sticking around for just a moment?” Blinking, I tilted my head. “Am I in trouble for my failure?” I asked, my earfins drooping. “Failure? Why would you think you’ve failed?” Sunburst raised a hoof. “Thorax was raised … well, harshly, Twilight. The fillies and Spike getting into trouble, to him, is failure.” “And covered in sap,” I added, abashed. “You specifically told me not to let that happen, but I did.” Twilight’s ears twitched. She blinked twice, her eyes flitting to Starlight as if seeking rescue. “To be fair, if you said that, then he’s got a point,” Starlight said with a shrug. Before she could protest, though, Starlight turned to fix me with a bemused look. “But I didn’t see any sign of a mess on those fillies or Spike. Thanks to you and Applejack, it seems.” I fidgeted in place. “It was my obligation to redeem my failures,” I muttered. “I let them out of my sight long enough to get into trouble, so I felt it my duty to fix my error.” That did little to set Princess Twilight’s mind at east, it seemed. Frowning, she tilted her head and rose from her seat, approaching me slowly. “Thorax, those three get into trouble as sure as Celestia raises the sun each morning,” she said, placing a gentle hoof upon my shoulder. “I didn’t mean they couldn’t get into any trouble, I just … well, I worded it poorly. I wanted you to make sure they didn’t get into big trouble.” “But they did.” A low, sad chitter rolled in the back of my throat. “Using that slingshot could’ve ended badly.” “Yes, and the girls and I will be having a talk with all four of them after you’ve gone home. They should’ve known better not to use such a silly thing like that in a game of hide and seek.” Her brows flatlined. “Or let you think making a mess in the Cakes’ kitchen was okay without cleaning it up.” I winced. “I’m sorry.” She patted my shoulder. “Not your fault. You didn’t know better.” With a small smile, she moved in close and hugged me tight. “Pinkie was only a little upset, until she talked to Shining. She knows you wouldn’t do that if you knew it was impolite, and that she’s going to have quite a lot of little helpers taking tomorrow off from school after I have a word with their parents and Cheerilee.” Cheerilee was not a name I was familiar with at that time, but I have since met her and found her to be a lovely mare. Lovely, but stern. Good qualities for a teacher. “Then … I didn’t fail?” I asked. “Not in the sense you think, you silly colt.” Drawing back, Princess Twilight looked into my eyes and held my cheeks in her hooves. “You made a mistake, letting them lead you around, because you thought they knew best and all you had to do was follow their word. That’s not your fault for thinking, it’s mine for not telling you to take charge if you didn’t feel comfortable. I should’ve known better than to expect you to take initiative there until you felt my orders applied.” This didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense. I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Princess, you make it sound as though you failed.” “No. I made a mistake, just like you did. Mistakes happen, just like Cadence and Shining taught you when they told you not to bite ponies who displeased you or didn’t complete a task.” “Then … I still do not understand. In the hive, I would be severely disciplined for this.” I blinked. “I’m not being disciplined?” Princess Twilight shook her head, and then pressed a hoof against my nose. “No, Thorax. You’re not.” She leaned in and nuzzled me softly. “You’re being thanked. Because you tried your best, then made sure to make things right after you realized your mistake. You’re a good changeling, understand?” No. No I did not. A mistake was failure. I learned that since the very day I hatched. This … this was … I didn’t feel any burn. I felt relieved. I was relieved, but I didn’t understand why I shouldn’t be disciplined or think this a failure. Truly, this was a conundrum. A puzzle I could not hope to solve. Not on my own, at least. “How am I good?” I asked. “Because you try your best, both as a friend and as one asked to watch over others,” she replied. “And because, just like a certain morning Shining wrote me telling about the day you scared Flurry Heart, mistakes happen. Accidents happen. Loss of temper, sadness, bad days, there are things we can’t control, Thorax.” She made a point to look over my shoulder and smile, then croon as she leaned up to exchange nuzzles with Flurry. “And if you ever doubt that your mistakes don’t define you, I think you might just ask this little one if she loves her Thorax.” Flurry clung to my neck and buried her face in my shoulder plate. “Yes, love! Love Tora loss ’n loss!” Yes. Yes, I love Thorax. I love Thorax lots and lots. I felt tears sting my eyes. I hadn’t failed. I wasn’t going to be disciplined. I wasn’t a bad changeling or minder or friend. I was loved. And then something hit the side of my face, splattering ice cold water across the three of us. I let out a hiss and staggered. I heard Princess Twilight let out a shriek and Flurry squealed in laughter. Shining Armor’s low chuckling filled my ears. He was there, standing at the far entrance, bouncing a small, blue orb in his hoof. Flanked by Princess Cadence, the fillies, and Spike. All were armed. “Shining Armor, how dare you!” Twilight yelled. “Don’t you dare throw another water balloon in my—eek!” A second balloon hit her right in the nose. “All’s fair in love and war, Twily!” Princess Cadence sang as she picked another balloon out of the pouches I hadn’t seen slung across hers and Shining’s backs. “And you know I love water balloon fights, and we haven’t had one in years!” “Quite right.” Shining kissed her cheek, but his eyes never left mine. They shone with wicked glee. He took a slow step forward. “And I owe a certain changeling a little payback for all those silly faces. Not to mention that wakeup call this morning.” I swallowed a lump and took a step back. “I-I-I have Flurry Heart on my back,” I reminded him. “Good point. Flurry!” he called with a big smile. “Come to mommy and daddy! We’ve got a new game to play!” That did it. I was sunk. Flurry Heart loved games, a fact exemplified as she leapt off my back and flew right over to land upon her father’s, babbling and squealing. There was only one thing I could do. My eyes met Twilight’s. She lit her horn, casting a bubble shield just in time to deflect another volley of water balloons, and turned tail. We ran as fast as we could, our pursuers’ laughter ringing in our ears, and the steady splat of their volleys spurring us onward. I cannot tell who won the war in the end, though I will say this: Princess Twilight is a brilliant tactician. And I’m stunned Shining didn’t realize she planned for us to lead them to the lake so she could douse them all at once. Pinkie Pie has, I believe, lost it at that, so I believe we shall end it there. Thank you for listening to this long tale, Small Pony Book. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am tasked with aiding this giggling mare in devouring these cupcakes. A task I accept with the gravity it deserves. *Ahem. You’re not supposed to be eating that much sugar in one sitting and you know it. Don't make me have you sit at my side like I have Flurry at mealtimes, young colt. I will do it. - Cadence. ** You’re darn right we are. And as your conspirator friends, we’d like to echo Twily’s later point—you didn’t fail, you silly colt. Mistakes do happen, and you can’t control every pony. All you can do is try your best. And you did. - Shining. ***You are most certainly welcome to join us on the veranda, Thorax. If we would like a private moment, we’ll make sure to tell you. Thank you for being considerate enough to think to ask first, though. You’ve certainly come a long way from looming over the couch and drooling while we cuddle. - Cadence. **** This isn’t unique to you, Thorax. This difficulty escaping the damage of the past. This is something everyone feels. Let’s have a talk when we get home. You, Cadence, and me. I ... I don’t like that this is eating at you so, and I can’t pretend I’m happy with this. The more I read about how you were raised, the more I find myself horrified and angry on your behalf. So. Once we’re home, let’s all go someplace nice for a little while and talk over lunch. We’ll find you a nice place that makes fish. Please don’t feel that you have to be subservient to us. Please don’t feel like you have to think yourself of lower class. We don’t expect you to just flip a switch and not feel that way, we know it will take time. But there’s one thing each of us hopes you will come to understand and know in turn: We love you, Thorax. - Cadence, Shining Armor, Flurry Heart, Sunburst, Starlight Glimmer, and Twilight Sparkle. P.S. It was wonderful to have you visit, Thorax, and I’m glad to see you had fun. Spike was bouncing off the walls all week until you finally got here. You’re certainly welcome to visit anytime you like. I may share a bit of this with the girls, if you don’t mind. Just so they know what you’ve dealt with and how hard you’re working to be a happy changeling living among us. I won’t tell Spike or any of the foals. That’s your decision, and I will respect that. Oh, before I forget. One last thing: Call me Twilight. All my friends do.