//------------------------------//
// Hook, Line, Sinker 
// Story: Changing Ways 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

The Celestial Sea was something splendid. If anyone had never seen the ocean before and only possessed experiences of rivers and lakes, they would be awed by the sheer scale of this body of water. Once precious land was out of sight, there was nothing but the sea and the sky. In many places, one would never get to see a boat or a ship for miles on end.
Now, the sun was setting over its orange sky, the water becoming a murky gray and red. Over the rolling waves flew Smolder and Silverstream, dragon and hippogriff beside each other as they fixed their eyes forward, traveling high enough to avoid the splashes.
“That’s it, huh?” Smolder spoke up.
“What’s it, huh?” Silverstream said back, utterly perplexed by the expression.
Smolder was pensive, holding her tongue for a moment. Then: “I don’t wanna say that we’re gonna lose. We dragons never lose.”
The hippogriff opened her mouth, about to provide evidence of dragons losing but decided not to for her own safety.
“But, the way this is going,” Smolder continued, “we’re going to need a good string to survive.”
“I don’t have strings!” Silverstream complained. “Did you bring strings?”
“It’s not literal.” Smolder crossed her arms. “What I mean is, we need a lot of things to go our way, and there’s too many things to get right.”
“Like what?”
Smolder rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, Silverstream, like...not giving up so many ponies to the other side? At this rate, they’ll be filled with ponies. How are we gonna stop ‘em?”
“By figh—“
“That’s obvious," the dragon replied, annoyed, "but it has to be more than just fighting.”
It was Silverstream’s turn to roll her eyes. “Now the dragon wants more than figh—“
Smolder groaned and smacked herself on the face in-flight. “Flap your wings faster. We have to get someplace safe before night falls.”
The two of them flew on, emanating a little orange from the sun’s light and the sea’s reflection.



It was half an hour after the sun had set when Smolder and Silverstream found such a safe place. It was a congregation of cottages by a cliff with its jagged rocks jutting out of the sea like organic spikes; on those spikes, some audacious hippogriffs perched, feeling the adrenaline course through their veins as the waves tried to wash them out. By the farthest spike, a couple talked to each other, but what made this talk interesting was that the husband was the hippogriff on the rock and the wife was the seapony in the ocean.
The duo landed on the field of grass before the first cottage which was protected by a troupe of armored hippogriffs, one flying out of his post to enter his patrol. Just outside, other hippogriffs munched on their snacks in their refreshment tents: mixed seeds, seasoned worms, and salmon juice. Some waved their claws at the pair who just showed up.
Then, walking out of a tent, was a blue hippogriff who towered over the both of them, donning his bronze helmet. His eyes caught sight of them, and smiled. “Ah! You’re here at last!” Facing Smolder: “Thank you for accompanying my daughter once again. I always knew she'd be a valiant warrior, but I have to thank you again for pushing her off the nest!”
Smolder blushed. “It’s no biggie, Sky Beak.”
He took off his helmet, showing his tall white mane. This time, he faced Silverstream who was devouring a bowl of beans and peanuts. “I don’t care if you had to retreat; you made sure the bugs knew who’s boss around here!”
Parent and daughter then exchanged a high-five with their open claws.



Inside one of the cottages, a lot of hippogriffs stayed to rest and unwind. However, the fear of an imminent changeling invasion—or, worse, a changeling right inside the settlement—lingered in their minds; it was evidenced by the wary looks out the windows, the quiet rumors whispered from ear to ear, and the not-so-secret points of a toe at this or that slightly suspicious character. The few ponies among them participated in these distressing practices, so that everyone, no matter what they were doing—whether it was eating a hippogriff’s feast or playing a board game or warming their claws or hooves by the fire or reading a book by said fire or fighting to keep said book from falling into said fire—they were cautious, perhaps too cautious.
“Seaspray will do his best to hold it down,” Sky Beak said as he led Smolder and Silverstream down several flights of stairs by gliding. “We’re already running out of dragon back-ups and our burning arrows won’t be enough to halt a changeling swarm.” Turning solely to his daughter: “Your mother and your brother have already moved back to Mount Aris since two o’ clock 'cause we apprehended another changeling; he was disguised as Ice Splash.”
“Did you get the real guy?” Smolder asked as they rounded to another flight of stairs.
“Not yet,” replied Sky Beak with worry in his voice. “We’ve been searching, but we can’t send too many away without slowing down activity here.” He sighed and scratched his head, yet another turn to another set of stairs. “It’s not exactly looking bright, but we know he’s alive out there.”
They were silent for the last staircase. After that, they approached an enormous door with multiple locks attached to it.
Sky Beak banged on the metal surface. “Hey, it’s me!”
“It’s who?!” shouted a voice from the inside. “Is that you, Beak?”
“No, call me ‘Sky Beak’,” he said, exasperated.
Silverstream covered her laughing mouth. Smolder smiled, perceiving the teasing nature of her companion.
“This is serious,” Sky Beak went on as he grew flustered. “I don’t want you joking around when they bomb this place.”
“Whatever you say, Beak,” the voice replied.
“I’m not Beak!”
“It makes up more than half of your name," answered the figure hidden behind the door. "I waste half a second saying the other word—oh, wait, what was that other word? I have a short memory problem, so would you please help me by saying—“
“It’s Sky Beak!” he shouted and banged the door as loud as he could.
“Woah, there!” A lock slid open with a roaring chirr. “I didn’t know you’re so hungry! How'd you know we got lobster on the menu?”
“You do?” Cleared his throat, looked nervous, heard uproarious laughter from those two young creatures beside him. “Uh, open up!”
The rest of the locks slid open and the door veered inwards, revealing a green hippogriff wearing a pair of glasses and a mouth dripping with salmon juice. “Hi, Beak!”
Sky Beak balled up his claw into a fist while keeping a smile on his face. “Skip the introductions, Brook Raft. We got more important stuff to take care of,” and he flew past him, tagging Smolder and Silverstream along.
A big table adorned this room and it was the only piece of furniture here, resting under several bright hanging lights. All the chairs were filled, most of them hippogriffs, but two ponies, two dragons, and one griffon were in attendance as well. Those seated were busy talking to each other with what lay on the table: maps marked with arrows and lines and circles, plans with lists of instructions and back-up plans with their own fail-safes, minutes of the activities and whereabouts of creatures deemed suspicious by the majority of the settlement, and plates of lobster and fish along with salmon juice—for the ponies who could not stomach such a meal, they were given potatoes and cauliflowers with either glasses of water or bottles of soda.
At the end of the room was another metal door though smaller. Some buttons were beside it, branded with random numbers.
The hippogriff at the head of the table stood up and took notice of the newcomers. His mane and his tail flowed a long thick and teal way; his face carried a composed air around him, and it matched his accent: “I am very glad that you could make it here, and let’s not forget to congratulate our, ahem, would-be decorated fighters of the Queen’s Navy.” This General Seaspray gestured a claw towards Silverstream and Smolder and the table erupted into subdued applause. “What are you waiting for? You must be famished from the festivities on the ground. We can celebrate with a fine dinner.”
“Are you celebrating a loss?” Smolder asked, taken aback.
“A minor loss is a victory at this point,” he said, still with dignified style. “We’ve worn down Chrysalis’s troops and slowed down her advance. We have ample time to sort things out.”
“Sort what out?” Silverstream asked innocently.
The table was getting back to its noisy self, the occupants discussing, among other things, emergency exits. “Too many things to list down one by one, but we can start with our suspects.”
The bubbly hippogriff placed her claws to her cheeks, excited. “Ooh! Mystery!”
Seaspray eyed Sky Beak. “Yes, it was indeed a mystery, but it is all cleared up and we can safely say that we could….”
He was looking at Silverstream, his lips quivering.
“What’s wrong?” Smolder asked.
Seaspray shook his head. “Ah, nothing. A sudden lapse of memory, that is all.” He looked at himself, the only one still standing at the table. “Silly me, I look funny!”
He then sat down.
Hippogriff guards flew in to provide chairs for the late arrivals and they sat down at the table. After that, the guards returned to their positions by the walls.
Seapsray raised a claw and all were silent, fixing their attention on him. “Before we begin in earnest, we must deal with our changeling situation right here.” Many nodded, several murmuring “Yes, yes” at the general. Then, he saw Sky Beak holding out a picture and looking fondly at it. In a stern voice, focused on him: “What are you doing?”
Sky Beak kept looking at it.
Others watched him in that silent defiance.
“I said, what are you doing?”
“Seeing my family together one last time,” Sky Beak said, grim and staring at Seaspray with furious eyes.
Seaspray raised his brows. “You caught my hints, didn’t you?”
Silverstream hovered up from her chair. “What’s g-going on? Dad, why aren't they happy at you?”
“Seize him!”
And hippogriffs from around the table lunged at Beak and restrained him, holding him down as they cuffed his legs and pushed his head down. Silverstream screamed, clawing her way to her father before getting caught by the tail. She looked at Smolder who shouted, “What if he’s a changeling all this time?!”
“He can’t possibly be a changeling!” Silverstream shouted and punched her on the cheek. “He’s my Dad! I know he’s—“
Seaspray landed beside her as more hippogriffs and even the two ponies in the room ran to help control Beak who wrestled claws and wings. “Silverstream," the general spoke above the chaos, "you have to understand that your father is still alive. He could be out there in a temporary holding area—“
Silverstream then punched him on the face. “That’s my Dad you’re going to drown!”
Seaspray rubbed his sore cheek, managed to retain a passable smile for her. “Haven Bay’s the one reporting all the evidence to me. What you must know is that he is not dead—“
“He will be if you kill him!” Silverstream shouted and flung another punch at him only for it to miss.
Amidst the shouts, the roars of her father, the shuffling of hooves and wings, the spilling of cups and plates, she dropped to her knees.
Silverstream cried, tears dropping to the floor.
Smolder flew up to Seaspray’s level and planted a finger on his beak. “Listen here, buddy! I’m siding with her and if you—“
“I’m trying my best to keep everyone here at Castnet safe,” Seaspray said, grunting and planting a toe on her nose. “I am not about to let the Queen down again.”
“Well, you better be!”
Only for the dragon to be grabbed by the neck and thrown across the table, stringing along maps and plans down to the floor with her.
Seaspray walked to the hippogriffs and ponies keeping Sky Beak down. He was trashing and flailing his legs about, screeching but to no avail.
The general looked at him with those piercing eyes. “Sky Beak—or, rather, the changeling impersonating as Sky Beak—what do you have to say for your crimes?”
“I have no crimes to speak of!” Beak cried out. “You let me go!”
“I cannot do that without endangering the rest of us,” he said. “We cannot risk letting a changeling like you roam free.”
“You’re going to regret it!” Beak yelled, grasping for his neck but failing.
Seaspray ripped his pearl necklace away and smashed it with a claw. “Take him out!”
And the guards flew him out of the room, with Brook Raft by the safe door, wiping his glasses from smudges.
Silverstream saw him disappear by the stairs. “No, n-no! They’re really going to drown Daddy!”



“Please, Seaspray, please!” Silverstream begged at his claws as they stood on the grass at the cliff’s edge, the waves crashing down on those sturdy barriers and dragging the rocks away. “You have to believe us! That hippogriff is my Dad and he’s not a changeling! He’s the same old fun and loving—“
“Have you forgotten how deceptive changelings can be?” Seaspray interrupted, leaning his head down to see Sky Beak cuffed and held dozens of feet above the turbulent water, the guards flapping their wings. “All it takes is one look—one look—and they’ll have memorized half of the things your father’s made of from that one look.”
“But..I—“
“I know you’re emotional,” Seaspray said in a comforting tone or, rather, tried to, “but you have to realize you’ve been spending time with a changeling, not your father. Like I said, he’s probably trapped somewhere in the area; otherwise, he’s fine.”
“He’s not fine because you’re strangling him—“
“Ugh. We’re not repeating the same words, OK?” Seaspray put on his helmet and gave the young hippogriff a mad stare. “You agree with us or not? That is not your Dad.”
Silverstream’s face was soaked with tears both old and new, her eyes were puffy and red, and her mane was ruined and frizzed.
“It’s for everyone’s good,” Sky Beak said, growing irritated. “We’ve always done this before and we’ve never been wrong. What’s to whine about?”
“Well—“ sniffed “—what if, this time, you're wrong?!”
“That’s crazy,” Seaspray answered. “Didn’t I tell you about Haven Bay?”
“She’s wrong!” blamed Silverstream, pointing at the ground which now represented Haven Bay to her. “And you’re wrong!” with pointed claws at the general. “Everyone’s wrong except me and my dragon friend!”
Seaspray opened his mouth, surprised at the outburst. “You wouldn’t want me to tell your mother about your rude behavior, would you?”
“If it means saving my Dad, then tell her all you want!” Silverstream screamed and then opened her wings and took flight.
Only to be stopped by more hippogriff guards restraining her and placing her back on the ground.
Seaspray wagged a toe at her. “You will not interrupt the execution of a bug.”
“He’s not a bug, he’s not a bug!” Silverstream cried as she was dragged back into the cottage, those lines repeated though muffled behind walls and windows.
Seaspray opened and closed his eyes, clearing out his own tears before they poured onto his face.
He flew over the cliff and dove down, reaching great speeds until halting in front of Sky Beak and his guards. They could all feel it was slightly hotter here; water splashed on them, the waves growing higher as the weather worsened, clouds blocking out the stars but not the moon. Not yet.
Sky Beak himself struggled, slugging his legs about and trying to pinch his out-of-reach captors.
Seaspray looked him in the eye—those eyes reddened by sorrow, tearful sorrow. He could hear the chokes, the sighs of the creature before him, changeling or not. “Any last words?”
Beak heaved in, heaved out. That calm face before him, persuaded that he was right. “N-Never thought I’d die...I’d die like this. Not this way, no...not by my own….”
“You are a stubborn bug,” Seaspray said, banging him on the head with a fist. “Refusing to revert to your changeling self? You must’ve had intense training from Chrysalis.”
Beak felt the splash more, seeing the water closer and closer as his head reeled in agony.
“You won’t tell me what you’ve done to us, or what you’ve disclosed to your queen?” The general inched his head closer.
Then, he flew away from the prisoner. Hovering over the rough waters, he looked at the guards holding him. “No more words for this imitator. Drown him!”
So they did, shoving him down into the water as they all surrounded themselves in the ocean’s wet cold. The guards pressed their necklaces and turned themselves into seaponies, losing their wings for fins as they breathed freely under the surface. Sky Beak, however, remained a hippogriff. He swallowed the water, tried to spit it out. Holding his breath, holding his breath. Pressure on his lungs, the urge to exhale and to inhale—but inhale what?
Everything blurred. Their faces became mushes in his vision. The bubbles blended with the water and faded into the blue. Pain in his chest, pain in his lungs. Then, he breathed out, a stream of bubbles out of his mouth and nose. He let the water come into his body and—



“He didn’t change into a changeling?!” Silverstream screamed at the living room’s table, throwing up all the books and papers laid out there.
Seaspray held a claw to his chest. “I’m sorry to say that we have made a terrible mistake—“
“’Terrible mistake’?!” Silverstream shouted, holding her claws out. “You sentenced my Dad to death! He did nothing wrong!”
“Uh, could you calm down a teensy bit?” suggested Smolder who was seated beside her.
Silverstream threw the dragon down to the table and smashed it, having everything fall to the floor. She pointed a claw at Seaspray on his beak and yelled: “No one’s happy and it’s all your fault!”
With that, she stormed out of the cottage, everyone inside with astonished looks at where Beak’s daughter had been moments ago. Then, they all turned to Seaspray, the most shocked of all as he slowly took off his helmet and kept that wide-eyed look, that look of horror and dread, teeth clattering.
He released the helmet from his claw. It tumbled to the floor.



Brook Raft sat on the grass outside and was busy reading a book to himself as the wind breezed by and swayed the meadows. Resting his back on the wall, he cleaned his glasses a ninth time, turned around and saw the light coming out of the window above, and resumed his session.
Then, screaming.
Brook Raft closed his book and spread his wings. “Who could that be?”
And Silverstream turned round the corner, flying at him while swinging a pipe.
Hit on the head, out cold.
Brook fell to the ground, unconscious. His glasses collapsed onto the grass, becoming dirty once again.
“And that’s for calling Daddy ‘Beak’!” Silverstream shouted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but...I’m angry and it’s all Seaspray’s fault! If he’s not dead...the jokes, the laughter! The good times we could’ve had and—“
A glow came upon Brook and revealed the changeling lying there, still unconscious.
Silverstream yelped and dropped the pipe.
Which landed on his head again.
The hippogriff covered her mouth. She took steps back, laying her eyes on the changeling—no, that bug before her.
“I-It’s you!” she shouted.
Then, wingbeats from around the cottage and Seaspray and more hippogriffs came to her side along with Smolder. “What’s going on?” the general asked, but a second later and he saw the changeling, too.
Everyone saw it, that body right before them.
Seaspray stood still, shuddering and shivering before Silverstream, before fatherless Silverstream and the changeling’s body on the grass.
He flew away, back into the cottage, leaving the rest outside in the night to ponder on Silverstream and the changeling.



Morning came and Seaspray looked out of the window. He noted the somber mood that had fallen on the whole village: the proud hippogriffs relegated themselves to drifting around on the ground—those flying hippogriffs, capable of flight, sticking to the ground! He rested his head on his chest, staring down on the floorboards as if they accused him.
A stroll outside did not help at all. Yes, the air was fresh and, yes, swimming around in the water did relieve his thoughts a little. Nevertheless, his mind kept returning to Silverstream.
That Silverstream. That poor, fatherless Silverstream.
“He’s not that old,” Seaspray mumbled to himself as he walked down a dirt path, ignoring the civilians who saluted him with half of their hearts, their energy all gone. “Not even middle-aged. I...”
Sat down on the ground. Looked at his claws and opened them. Stared at them, those claws as clear as day.
“I...killed him….”



Smolder, meanwhile, was in the middle of a forest, trees everywhere she saw in that windy forest as the plants bent. “Silverstream!” she called out, hand around her mouth. “Silverstream! We need you!”
She flew above the trees and scanned the forest from above. She looked down but saw no trace of the hippogriff. She looked straight ahead but her friend was nowhere, not even standing on a branch of those bulky, lanky trees.
“Silverstream!” Smolder shouted for the umpteenth time. “Where are you?!”
“Who’s that?!” cried out a voice from somewhere.
Smolder looked around. “That’s not her.” Then, shouting as she tracked down whoever it was: “Who are you?!”
“A lost...um, hedgehog?”
“Hedgehog?” Smolder asked.
Down there, a gray spot raising its chubby hands to the air. “Here! I’m over here!”
Smolder landed right in front of him.
The “hedgehog” was not the usual small kind although he was still shorter than Smolder. He had gray fur and a white streak of mane across his back and on his head; he sported a white mohawk over his blue eyes and his big nose.
“And, who are you?” Smolder repeated, leery of him.
He looked around, hearing the birds chirp from the trees. Seeing that they were the only ones at this small opening, he began with: “I’m Grubber. Lost, nobody with me, and nothing to do here. Anything I could do or...you know, something?”