A sea of clouds. The Sea of Clouds.
An awning of gray clouds shining under the moonlight, bearing silver linings and bringing forth ashen outlines wandering by peeking mountain tops. Above sprawled the clear sky with its abundance of stars and the one moon, glowing bright.
Below this sea of clouds, one would see a lush valley with flowing tufts of grass bending under the freezing breeze. There were no flowers here, only the rare tree firm and steady against the wind. Few dirt paths winded up and down the mountain slopes.
A cottage punctuated the countryside, its lights on and its chimney gushing out smoke. Posted on the door was a sign with the words: “Changelings will get shot by cannon!”
The clinks and clangs of utensils could be heard from outside.
Inside was a table upon which was spread out an array of simple food: flat pasta in curry sauce, garlic syrup in big bowls, and spicy gazpacho topped with baked beans and rice—all these dishes radiating smells that permeated the air with their appetizing scents.
“I suppose you’re enjoying my impromptu meal,” said Cheerilee, the purple pony at the head of the table, hankerchief tied around her neck. “I can’t say I wasn’t expecting visitors, but I hope it was worth the wait.”
Fresh Coat and Celaeno smiled at their host.
The dining room was humble with its lack of furnishings. There were no potted plants to speak of nor any paintings to look at or some other valuable antique—only the fireplace and a shelf of emergency weapons stashed on the wall.
“Sorry I haven’t asked you before,” Cheerilee said after taking a sip of water, “but what brings you here?” She was eyeing Fresh Coat who was helping herself to slurping up her pasta. “I haven’t seen another pony in ages! I would’ve lost track of time if it weren’t for the calendars left over.”
Celaeno raised her claw, about to speak. Then, she changed her mind and motioned to Coat. “I’ll let her speak first. The food’s too good to pass up!”
Cheerilee giggled. “I don’t consider myself a good cook.” She blushed. “Actually, my talent is in helping my students grow and flourish.”
The pirate looked confused. “What students?”
Cheerilee sighed, picked on her food with a fork. “That’s what makes living here so hard. Not only am I alone most of the time, but I have no one to teach.” She paused. “You see, I used to be a teacher in this town called Ponyville.”
Coat raised a brow. “Did you say ‘Ponyville’?”
Cheerilee made another smile, looking at her now. “Then you know it for something else. Were you from Ponyville?”
Coat shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
“Figures.” With her fork, Cheerilee swirled the pasta on her plate but did not eat any. “I had to leave with most of the parents because they wanted to take their foals somewhere safer. Who wouldn’t? We split up many times. I was able to stick with some of my students, but we had to separate by the time I reached the last river in the forest.” She paused, pulling her plate closer. “I said to myself, ‘I made it this far. I can’t stop now.’”
Another pause. Both parrot and unicorn were all ears, leaving their food alone for the moment.
“I didn’t stop. I came upon this house and the owner told me I could have it. He was lambasting himself for being a coward and after I moved in, he headed back to Equestria to fight.” She sighed. “I hope he’s OK.”
Celaeno and Coat were silent, bending a little to hear what else she had to say.
“But, enough of me,” Cheerilee said, facing the other mare in the room. “How did you get here?”
Coat levitated her soup spoon down and cleared her throat while Celaeno returned to her dinner though keeping an eye on her. The unicorn hung her cap on the chair. “The usual, miss. I am a Canterlot pony, so when the changelings invaded, I had to get out and save myself. Went around and settled in a base deep in the forest. We had to leave since the changelings were getting closer.”
Cheerilee made a silent nod. She sharpened her frown, turning her lips further down.
“We went to Klugetown”—Cheerilee winced—“and...I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to rest, I didn’t want to do odd jobs and get splashed with paint! It’s good they didn’t get into my eyes!”
Celaeno stopped eating, holding a fork in mid-air.
“I stowed away at some prisoner ship and the prisoners were going to perform in the circus somewhere here. I got found out, but the captain—a changeling, but he’s good—he kept me safe and didn’t do anything bad to me...just me because he mistreated the prisoners there. Then, Captain Celaeno here”—gestured to the pirate who was holding her fork still—“raided his ship and brought me to her crew. After a while, the changeling got mad and brought his friends and they burned our ship.”
Celaeno turned away, hiding her clenched jaw from their host.
“Before we knew it, everyone’s dead except us. We escaped by trying out a teleportation spell...it was a lucky shot, but we did it right before the ship crashed on to a mountain. We traveled for some time; we couldn’t find any good place to stay. Then, we found your cottage and...” she attempted a smile but ended up appearing fake. “You know the rest.”
Cheerilee finally ate some pasta, chewing on savory testaroli and mulling over the story. “It’s good you made it here, but...she’s a real pirate?” She glanced between her two guests. “I thought you’re wearing that get-up to ward off the changelings!”
It was Celaeno’s turn to frown although with a hint of anger. “You’re saying you’ll kick me out just because I’m a swashbuckling treasure hunter?”
Cheerilee kept her stern face for a while, then dropped it. “You’re here now, and there’s no use in leaving you out in the cold. I’m...I’m also sorry you’ve lost most of your pirate mates.” She poured more water into her glass, making a quick glimpse at the barrel of wine standing in the corner. “It must’ve been hard to cope.”
Celaeno put down her fork. “It sure is. We parrot swashbucklers are few and far between these days. It’ll take me months to assemble another crew.”
Cheerilee merely nodded. “Well, it was a pleasure having someone to talk to during dinner—“
And a howling cry echoed throughout the house.
Celaeno and Coat turned their heads around, trying to discern where the cry was coming from as it filled the room.
Cheerilee shivered, tugged at her own mane, hooves quivering.
“Is that your foal?” Coat asked, sounding unsure.
“Um, uh….” She scratched her cheeks, then her mane, then her snout, hemming and hawing. “I-It’s not mine a-and it’s not a foal.”
“Not a foal?!” shouted Coat and Celaeno together.
The cry returned, louder than ever.
Celaeno raised her brows once again. “Sounds like a foal.”
“Eh...it isn’t,” responded Cheerilee, patting her face to check if there was sweat. “I was hoping he wouldn’t make some noise but, now that you ask...”
She turned her head away from the food.
“Follow me.”
And Cheerilee stood up. The parrot and the unicorn followed her, leaving their dinner to cool off and lose their delicious heat.
Cheerilee opened the door, revealing a dark room inside.
It was the perfect place for a foal. Toy carts and pony plushies were scattered on the floor, collecting a little dust. A stroller stood under the closed window, its view of the night obstructed by the trees’ thick leaves and branches. A dozen unused diapers lay on the cupboards beside an empty rocking chair where a nightlight had been placed—it was off. At the far end of the room rested the crib, and Celaeno and Coat could see a figure squirming there as it cried.
“Looks a lot like a foal to me,” Celaeno whispered, giving Cheerilee a skeptical expression.
Cheerilee took a step back into the hallway. “You be the ones to find out yourselves.”
Celaeno and Coat gave each other weirded out faces. Then, they tip-toed and tip-hoofed their way to the crib. They avoided stepping on whatever could trip them up or whatever could make noise. Finally, they reached the crib and leaned in to see what the baby was.
It looked like a big black caterpillar shrouded in a naturally hard white cloth. Its complex eyes were blue; his cute black cheeks accentuated his cute little white fangs. A little horn was coming out of his forehead.
Coat gasped. “A grub?!” She whirled her round to see Cheerilee standing in the bright hallway, her shadow dark and ghastly.
Celaeno turned round to see Cheerilee, too.
Cheerilee herself swayed her leg around. “I found it lying in a ditch during my walks, crying alone...helpless. It must’ve been from the changeling scouting party that was somehow stopped later on—don’t know who; probably some ponies from the other side.”
Silence. The grub broke it with a high-pitched cry.
Unicorn and parrot covered their ears, gritted their teeth.
“You better give it some milk,” whispered Cheerilee as loud as possible, gesturing towards the bottle on the floor.
“Do grubs even digest milk?” Coat asked.
“Feed him with the milk!”
Celaeno grabbed the bottle and stuffed the grub’s mouth with it. Pacified, the baby changeling guzzled the sweet milk down.
“It wasn’t my idea,” Cheerilee said, staying there in the hallway and crossing her forelegs. “The first time he saw the bottle, he was stretching his arms towards it. Maybe it was incompatible, maybe I might kill the baby if I gave it milk...but, so far, he hasn’t shown any symptoms.”
Celaeno and Coat stood still, staring at the baby wriggling about.
Cheerile trotted inside the room. “Do you have any questions before we move on? It’s something I’d like to get over with quickly.”
Celaeno raised her claw. “Why don’t you just return it?”
Cheerilee tapped her own chin. “At first, I didn’t want to give it back because what if he grows up to become a powerful changeling, an unstoppable force of evil? After I nursed him back to good health...I thought...even if he doesn’t become a hive hero, why should I return the grub? Chrysalis isn’t a good mother...I have not seen her myself, but she’s...she doesn’t seem like the creature I’d trust my own foals with any day of the week.” She coughed, took in a closer look to see the grub. She rubbed the grub’s head and his smile grew wider. “I wanted to say that, if I raise him right, he will experience the joy that someone like him deserves: a good foalhood, or grubhood, I should say; he won’t be bossed around to do despicable things against non-changelings like you and me; he would do what is right no matter what.”
Coat looked at her, unsure. “What if he turns out bad anyway?”
Cheerilee turned round and glared at her. “At least I did my best! I’ve never had a foal and I probably never will, but this is the best chance I’ve got! What better way than to teach him how to be friends with the creatures he meets?!”
Coat and Celaeno now took steps back, giving the Earth pony some space.
Cheerilee placed a hoof on her head, looking and feeling guilty. “Sorry for bursting out like that. It’s...I know myself...I’ve grown attached to it. I’ve b-become its mother...a-adoptive mother….”
She trotted away from the crib, pushing her two guests aside as the mare went back into the hallway.
“Follow me. Let’s resume our dinner.”
One cold dinner and a few hours later, Celaeno and Fresh Coat were back on the road, trudging their way through picturesque landscapes late at night under a looming army of clouds that ever threatened to break out into a storm but never really did despite the many flashes of lightning and thunder. At times, they retreated to a copse of pine because they thought heavy rain was coming: the wind blew hard, the lightning cracked, even a little drizzle fell and graced them with their cool shower and made them a little wet that way. However, it was all over in a minute, and the pair returned to journeying the valleys.
There was a moment where, confronted with a bunch of old towels lying about on the grass, stained with dirt and mud, the mare thought it was a trap and that the changelings were the towels.
Celaeno laughed. “They may be clever, but I don’t think they’d risk being wiped with sweat and oil!”
Coat agreed to that though with reservation in her mouth.
Thirty minutes later, they encountered a colossal ravine yawning deep into some jagged rocks below. Vultures and crows squawked together in unison, creating a little song with their ominous hisses and caws.
Fortunately for them, a bridge presented itself nearby, but it was the unstable kind with wooden planks held up by ropes.
“You’re a bird,” Coat said, nudging her on the arm. “Can’t you fly us to the other side?”
Celaeno glowered at her. “I’m a wingless parrot just like my crew.”
Coat smacked herself on the head.
“We’ll make it out just fine,” Celaeno said, beholding the rope bridge that would surely give way and throw them down into a death they did not call for.
Except it did not give way. Aside from the pony screaming every couple of seconds, they reached the other side with no complications.
Thus, they continued their journey south.
One hour after midnight, the two of them came to rest by an abandoned bar. It was wooden and the floor was flattened logs. An uneven surface, but it was passable. There were bottles upon bottles of untapped concoctions inside: beer, rum, vodka, whisky, brandy, mead, wine….
“No water?” Coat asked after opening the empty fridge which had not been turned on for quite some time.
“It’s ironic,” Celaeno said. “Living in a place where there’s lots of clouds and you can’t have water here.”
“Must be stronger than a salt lick,” the mare said, closing the fridge and trotting back. “This must be the rowdiest establishment in the world.”
Celaeno looked upon the racks of drinks resting on their never-melting ice cubes. “It’s a good thing that it’s out of business. What would’ve happened if it kept on growing?”
“Selling poison to their customers?” Coat asked.
“It’s not unlikely.”
Fresh Coat gulped.
Celaeno noticed the little clock lying on the floor. She picked it up. “It’s almost one. We better sleep in.”
“Here?!” Coat cried out. “But, we have to stay awake! What if there are changelings right in front of us and they’re the bottles?!”
“You’re delusional,” Celaeno quipped, heading for the stairs. “If the changelings are up in Equestria, then we’re going to be fine for...about two more days here.”
Fresh Coat hesitated, stepping back only to trip on a chair.
Celaeno rolled her eyes, one foot already on the staircase. “We don’t have all night, Fresh-o. A good pirate needs all the energy she could get.”
This “Fresh-o” dusted herself off, getting up on her own. “But I’m not a pirate!”
Celaeno replied by pulling her ear and dragging the squeamish mare upstairs.
They slept on two beds inside a drab and dull bedroom which consisted of those two beds and only those two beds. No drawer, no cabinet, no shelves, no tables, no chairs—only a locked window and a box of candles.
While Celaeno slumbered peacefully, Fresh Coat slept with a motley range of snores and whistles. How was the parrot able to survive this? The answer was turning her back towards the mare, and it was enough for her. However, the mare’s snorts and snuffles drowned out all other possible sounds.
Including the sound of quiet hoofsteps from the hallway.