A flock of birds patterned the sky with their brown speckled wings. Sharpened eyes scanned the green pastures below, where ponies ran and lived free lives as shepherds and orange farmers. There in the orchards sheep and rams basked in the springtime sun, directed to grazing fields at certain hours of the day by their pony masters.
Cows lazed around hay bales and troughs content to eat an drink as they gave their milk to ponies, and bulls locked horns to compete in friendly tests of strength. A shepherd looked up from his watch over the animals to appreciate the sky, and from the ground, he could only see the birds as distant specks.
If he could see them and knew that peregrine falcons did not hunt in flocks, perhaps Spectra's hunt would have ended with the shepherd alerting his fellow ponies that something was not right. But today, like the past sixteen days, she and her pack passed over the home of the pony who conducted experiments and studies on the animals around him.
Spectra imagined someone more mobile, not confined to a house with brick patios and hardwood walls, but it seemed to her that he had shifted his focus a little since his last studies. He looked more like a wizard than a pony who observed animals.
She had her pack perch on the thatched roof while she sat on the windowsill to his study. Tables were cluttered with crystal vials, boilers, filters, even a spinning device that could separate a mixture of liquids into different components. Bottles of preserved body parts from both monsters and animals lined a shelf on one wall.
The scientist, Trumoss A-Keeneyes, opened the window and peaked out at Spectra. Like every other day, he left out a tray of seeds for her, which she pecked at grudgingly as she watched him work. His equipment did something to the animals he was studying. Trumoss would use different methods for blood and organs, but in the end, he'd produce a small quantity of a fluid that turned on a spark of curiosity in his eyes.
Spectra had seen ponies acting against Changeling nature, but she was sure that this was the most bizarre thing she had encountered. Whatever he made, whether it was from an ox or a parasprite, he'd stare at it through a crystal lens minutes at a time, switching it around with other samples and other lenses.
"She's coming to the door," crowed one of her drones looking onto the house from a tree in the backyard garden. Spectra flew up and screeched a confirmation, gliding around the house to listen from the porch of the house.
"Birdie!" cried Trumoss's youngest daughter, Paradise, as she saw Spectra. The filly tossed a few flowers on the porch, which Spectra refused to eat. The little pony stared expectantly, but quickly grew bored and prattled her way inside to find her father.
Spectra flapped her wings three times, motioning three drones to fly closer and monitor their conversation while she scanned the sky for the elder sister.
"Stay," her captain, already in the air, advised while speaking at a frequency unique to Changelings. "I see her, she's talking to that colt the target doesn't like."
"Which one?" Spectra replied.
"The one that always has bruises from fights."
"Hm," Spectra commented, "she has good taste."
Spreading her wings she retreated to the chimney, where she could hear all the conversations in the house from one point. The mother of their little hive was on the second floor, hemming a skirt once worn by Willow Wisp, her older daughter so it would fit her younger.
"Mom never did that for us," Spectra pouted. It might've been for the best, but Halfwing's hatred wasn't misplaced. The Queen was like a heartless witch. Then again, Spectra was never a daughter who smiled at her mother as the filly did with her father.
"When are you going to be done, Dad?"
"For today? Only a few more samples that need looking at," he said. "But my research is something that could take a lifetime. You might even be doing it when I get too old."
"Work with monster parts? Ew!" The young filly's laughter riled the feathers on the other bird. Spectra's drones were disciplined and unquestionably loyal, but that couldn't stop their natural impulses. Spectra herself had to restrain her hunger, despite the nectar-like sweetness of the pony's happiness.
"My princess," reported her captain again, "the couple are moving out of sight of the villagers. I could use a lieutenant with me."
"You have them," Spectra signalled her pack. One of the birds fluttered off of the roof and soared off toward the forest that neighboured the largest waterfall Spectra had ever seen. She signalled two other drones to monitor the young stallion's parents. She didn't want to go through the hassle of replacing them, but they still needed to be watched in case they started to notice their son behaving weirdly.
She could hear Trumoss chuckling from the chimney. "Alright, maybe you won't. But trust me, I think I've come across something truly magical."
"Are you really going to make rainbow oranges?" the filly asked. "Like the ones from your stories?"
"I don't know about oranges, but maybe one day we'll have rainbow fruit," he answered her. "I just have to figure a few more things out first, okay?"
"A few more things," Spectra whispered to herself. She had wanted this to be quicker, but if Majesta was still producing a drone at the same rate they had been when she left the hive, there was no rush. The days she had taken to confirm this was the right stallion, spying on his style of writing, the nature of his work, and the specimens he was interested in, was all worth it.
She waved a wing and called for half her pack to return to the groundskeeper and rest. "Prepare for the operation tonight," she advised them ahead of time. "With the eldest daughter, everything else falls into place. The rest of you will stay and watch."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Crack.
Another one failed. The book Mezza bought was invaluable knowledge of Equestria, but it proved a constant source of paranoia as well. Stories of dragons, basilisks, hydras, and other scaled monsters with incredibly thick hide. Even with special flowers, the right weapon was needed to pierce the dragon's hide.
Or the training tree, in this case. They were on a little farm very close to Riverfork, Marina had purchased it at Halfwing's request as a place to test the new weapons, and cultivate their flowers. She was hesitant about their effectiveness, but from what she could tell, the story of Sir Grain was for the most part a true account. The effects of the orange flowers he used were well documented once she started snooping around other bookstores and local stories.
Riverfork's own government building had decorated its gardens with carriages full of the dragon sneezing trees, the final confirmation that she could trust the information she had. That, and the fact that Riverfork was a village made mostly of wood that had survived over a month while a dragon lived so close.
Wromp.
The only issue now was the weapon. According to other records of pony knights, they had extraordinary strength; strength considered a bizarre talent for ponies, a chance event of magical ability, as Halfwing understood. She didn't need their strength, levitating the spear with enough speed was easy enough with the energy she was slowly draining from all the ponies around her.
She sighed and dropped the fifth spear. Solid iron, the highest quality Marina could afford, still bent under the force needed to pierce the dragon's hide. Even without natural talents, adult stallions could shake, even break, trees and stones with their kicks.
Where ponies lacked in magic, their musculature excelled. But even under that natural amount of stress, the lance bent out of shape. If she put the full force equal to what Grain could have done, she didn't expect the spear to even resemble itself after the impact.
"Purifying seems to have made it softer," Marina commented, picking up the weapon. "Everything I've learned about how ponies make their weapons say that purifying metals make them stronger."
"Maybe there's a point where that stops being the case," Halfwing said. "I'm fairly certain our abilities with magic have made your techniques... too perfect. Copper is made stronger with other metals, right?"
Marina nodded. "You think there's a material that can make iron stronger?"
Halfwing flashed a smile to the drone. "Yes, and would it be nice to prove we're Equestria's dominant species if we were able to do what ponies never could? Changing things is our speciality, after all."
"I'll head back to the shop then," Marina sighed, "and listen to the apprentices whine about getting even more work to do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was short notice, but the groundskeeper of the Citrus Hills had made a nest-room especially for the Trumoss's eldest daughter and her friend. With very little infrastructure to root them down, the shepherds of the Hills routinely passed dangerously close to the nest, close enough to hear two ponies if they screamed loud enough.
But, even though Spectra's lieutenants were draining them into unconsciousness, not a peep of their struggling made it out of the muffled ball of sticks, furs, and stolen wool.
"If only this place was my first hunting ground," Spectra smiled wistfully. Her captain had given the signal that the family was asleep, a high pitched buzz in the throat far outside the audible range for pony or livestock. He had added a report as well, that the family had so much love for their children he didn't even need to syphon their magic. The magic passing through their bodies was enough to sustain his appetite.
The groundskeeper hovered up to the branch she had perched on, one with a clear view out of the forest and onto Trumoss's home. From where they were, the large estate was like a tiny sketch on a green canvas.
"Nice house," he said, buzzing his wings. "But you're probably not interested in it, are you?"
Spectra shook her head. "It's the stallion living in there that I want."
"Odd little fella," the groundskeeper said, "I brought monsters from more distant lands here to keep ponies away from the nest, but they just seemed to bring him closer. Seen him pick up cockatrice scales and lick them."
"I'm certain he's the one who wrote a journal about wildlife in this area," she said, "or he's least connected to the pony who did. He writes the way, just about. Maybe an apprentice, or maybe he made the journal when he was very young. Either way, I knew some pony like him would be here."
"And what do you plan to do, take biology classes?" The groundskeeper chuckled.
Spectra weathered his joking; being the only Changelings with the mental capacity to do so, it was both as refreshing as it was irritating. She knew the groundskeeper didn't care about her intentions, he was just looking for entertainment. All groundskeepers were like that, so carefree without the Queen watching over their backs they didn't bother themselves with anything.
"Just keep his family alive once we bring them here," she said and turned back to face her drones, fully fed and ready to conduct their mission.
"Sure thing." The groundskeeper huffed and transformed his compound eyes into pony eyes for the sole purpose of rolling them. "Leave the garbage with the groundskeeper. Typical."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow unlocked the door. Chk, chok. Spectra and five drones stood immediately outside the door in their own forms. More drones, as birds and racoons, circled the perimeter of the estate, checking on activity outside and in. Silently, she nodded to Willow and hovered in.
They flew throughout the house, their hooves skimming the ground so that the wood floors wouldn't creak. Replacing Willow was an important but preliminary step. The hard part was getting to the younger daughter hastily but without sound. The young Paradise had just moved into her own bedroom now that she was too old to sleep with her parents.
From what Spectra could gather while spying on them, if they had shown up just two weeks earlier, she would have been too close to her parents to kidnap. But now her drones could enter her bedroom without trouble. One of them took her form while the another quickly wrapped her blanket around her face. Spectra opened the window.
Very quickly, Paradise started flailing her limbs when they picked her up, but with four drones restraining each limb, they quickly and silently pulled her out of the house. Weak from lack of air, Spectra trusted that her drones could carry her back to the nest without her supervision.
The new Paradise motioned for Willow to go back to her room. There, Spectra waited inside Willow's closet while the youngest daughter grabbed her father's attention.
"Huh... ngh..." he moaned, struggling to wake up. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"I heard something scratching on the window downstairs," she told him.
"It's probably just the foxes coming out to play, you know they never come inside," he said groggily.
Paradise stomped her hooves. "No, it's scarier this time. Please, daddy, go see it with me."
"Okay," he chuckled and slid out of his bed slowly, "daddy's here to chase away the big bad wolf."
Willow and Spectra moved swiftly into the parent's bedroom as soon as Paradise took her father to the kitchen. Taking the wife would be harder, an adult was too hard to restrain quietly, and Trumoss was already downstairs, blocking the exit. The only chance was to catch her unaware and knock her out.
Spectra slithered her tongue into the mare's mouth to taste for the strongest current of magic. Willow held her mother down while Spectra drained her magic rapidly. The sudden shock would've been enough to kill a pony, but with her tongue so deep in the mare's throat, Spectra could taste to moment she slipped toward death and stopped before it happened.
Using a quick burst of magic to strengthen herself, Spectra and Willow picked up the mare and pushed her out of a window. A few of the drones that had been posted to guard the perimeter waited for them, hovering just below the window to catch the mother and take her back to the nest.
Spectra ran her mind through the magic she tasted from the mother, using the sensation to turn herself into a copy of her. Willow hurried back into her own room and Spectra, now Allure Bramble, scurried back into bed to await her husband's return.
"See, it was just one of the animals that come out at night." Trumoss walked up the stairs with more strength in his step. His daughter's prattling had erased the tired stallion he was before.
"The racoons weren't scary," Paradise giggled happily, "they were actually kind of cute."
"Yes, well, don't go too close if you ever see one," he said. "I can't begin to describe the infections I've gotten from their bites. Nearly died once, actually."
"You did?" she asked, amazed.
"But that's a story for later," he quickly added, "right now you need to go to bed."
Paradise listened and hurried back under her blanket, which the drones had returned through the window in her room. Trumoss sighed, tiredness returning to his voice, and slipped back into bed with his wife.
"Did I wake you up?" he asked.
Allure replied with a sleepy grunt. "Racoon?"
"Just one of those silly things," he huffed, kissing his wife on the neck. "She's so much like you sometimes. Jumpy at everything." He poked her in the ribs to prove his point, but she was still too asleep to notice. He tried again, and this time she brushed his hoof away.
"Stop," she groaned, "it."
Trumoss smiled and obliged his wife, but drew a little closer in the process. He put his lips on the top of her neck and traced his way down her spine, nibbling on her smooth coat and soft skin. Huddled up tightly with his wife, he stayed like that the rest of the night, revelling in the scent he had known for twenty years but never ceased to be enraptured by.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Esilis wrapped up another bag of cheese for Mezza.
Outside, muddy hoofs squelched along the wooden walkways as farmers and fishers bought new tools for the coming floods. In the countryside, farms had begun to see damp soil, including the one Marina had bought.
"Thought you weren't staying around for long," Esilis said.
"I've only been here for half a season," Mezza answered, smelling the spice-scented cheese. "Studying the intricacies of villages and ponies isn't something that can be done in a few weeks."
But she really would have liked it was faster. After her drone had replaced a flower merchant and took his dragon-sneeze flowers, she realized they would be useless. The flowers wilted after a few days, and she still needed her weapon against the dragon's hide.
Buying the farm and its trees to grow the dragon-sneeze flowers was the only way to keep a constant and fresh supply. But Mezza hated farming, she thanked her luck that spring flooding had come just in time to help the flower buds bloom.
"Well, I'm glad you've stayed this long," Esilis said, "Marina's been absorbed in her work ever since she came back from her trip to Ironmarsh. I don't think she expected this much."
Mezza raised a brow. "Why's that?"
"We thought she'd be away for a while," she answered, checking the door to make sure there weren't other customers waiting. "Ironmarsh is pretty far, and she was planning on rebuilding Marblestop's iron business by working with the ponies in Ironmarsh. Whatever she told them must have been really convincing, cause she was back only a week later with ships full of ore."
Halfwing had to stifle a knowing chuckle. Moving Marina out of Riverfork may have been her sister's plan to reduce suspicions when she finished her hunt, but it seems the lieutenant was too skilled at being a Changelings. Manipulation, bribery, blackmail, replacement, there were so many ways Halfwing could imagine the lieutenant taking over an iron business. It was an emboldening fact to know that living among ponies, her species excelled beyond even their own expectations.
"Well, I should get going," Mezza said, taking her order of cheese. "Unfortunately, the tools I ordered are some of the things keeping Marina busy. Hopefully, she'll be done with them and you can go on being friends."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The spear bent as it stabbed into a tree, but returned to its shape without warping. A step in the right direction, but from how floppy the spear was, Halfwing knew it wouldn't hold up to the dragon's hide. Even the soft joints would be too sturdy for a spear like that. But it was getting somewhere.
"How'd you make this?" She asked Marina.
The lieutenant shrugged. "I didn't. Some smiths in the Marblestop district did.
"How'd you get them to give you this iron?"
"I was talking to Voxa when she mentioned you," Marina said. "We have a history. When Princess Spectra wore this form Voxa was a close ally. That letter you sent was part of her larger plan to restore her village, and when I said I was working on a project for you, she felt inclined to help."
"So, you've been working on mixtures of iron tirelessly, but it was the ponies who made the first step?" Halfwing grumbled and pouted. She had just bought cheese to celebrate the fact her species was superior, and now the point seemed moot.
"Y-yes," Marina stuttered, casting her eyes down, "but I can perfect it now. I've been trying mixes of iron with silver and nickel, but ponies simply leave small amounts of carbon in their iron to make this metal. Their methods are primitive because they only have hooves. Using levitation alone I was able to control the carbon impurities to a much finer degree."
Halfwing sighed and massaged her temple. "Okay, fine. Just get it done before the flowers show." She gestured to the bright orange buds on the branches of her trees. "After eavesdropping on farmers at the market, it sounds like we have a week or two before the trees are in full bloom. We're attacking that dragon once they are, so my weapon better be done."
Marina bowed her head. "Of course, princess. I'll drop all the other jobs and focus on this task."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The orange petals were in bloom, and shepherds herded their livestock to the riverbanks where the floods brought down cold glacial water to the grassy shores for evening grazing.
On a day like that, Allure's husband worked tirelessly in his study, staring at monster parts. She touched a place on her collarbone where he had nibbled her the night before. She left one much the same on his two night ago. All to get the lovestruck stallion distracted enough.
Allure stopped her sewing and opened her closet, taking out the stolen notes she hid in a small linen pouch. They were copies, of course. Trumoss was too observant not to notice missing notes, but even in her own writing not much of it made sense. He talked about cells, fibrous structures, mutations, enzymes, and other things she had no knowledge of.
She guessed his equipment broke organs down into smaller parts, but nothing in the sketches resembled anything that she had seen before. Spectra boiled on the inside, staring dumbfounded at the pages. Some of it sounded like the ramblings of a mad pony.
It's like looking through a portal to a new, tiny world.
What did that sentence even mean? Fives days and none of her drones, not even the groundskeeper, could decipher what his notes were talking about. She went downstairs and prepared dinner for the family. Paradise and Willow were good, of course, eating their mother's cooking on time, but Trumoss was still wrapped up in his lenses and experiments by the time it had gotten dark.
Allure heated up a cup of tea for her husband and stalked into his study, lightly tapping on the door to let him know she was around.
"You missed dinner again," she said, worry in her voice. "Are you okay? Hungry?" She placed the tea on a small corner of the table, the one place he left clear for her late-night gifts.
He looked away from the lens, the thing he called a micro-eye, and sipped the tea. "Oh, that's good." Trumoss got up from his chair and stretched, giving Allure a light kiss on the cheek. "Sorry I've been so distracted lately. I'm so close to working out how to control the mutagenic process. But the enzymes are fickle, and one wrong condition can destroy the monster mutagens."
Allure stared at her husband, unsure of what to say. She still wasn't sure what function his mutagens had, or why enzymes were so difficult to work with. But, she returned his kiss with a firm one on the lips, reassuring him that she was there for him.
"Paradise keeps talking about rainbow oranges," she chuckled. "Are you making promises you can't keep?"
"I can keep them," he said, wrapping a hoof around her neck and caressing down to her back. "Maybe not oranges, but if my process is perfected, I could make a new strain of fruits that express all the possible pigmentation."
She raised a brow. Was that really it, colours? She wanted to scream internally if it turned out Trumoss only cared about using monster parts to make trees prettier.
"But why apples, why not change flowers like monkshood?" she asked.
Trumoss coughed a laugh of surprise. "The deadly poisonous flower? No thanks, I'd rather not make any augmentations to that."
"Are you sure?" Allure smiled at him then lifted up the tea and took a sip from it herself. "The flower is really pretty, and they bloom in the forests anyway."
Trumoss scoffed, breathing deeper. "Ponies didn't nickname it wolfsbane for nothing. How else do you think we avoid wolves from the forest?"
"Oh, I see," she said, her amber eyes widening at her husband. "That recipe was for wolves. No wonder it's taking so long to knock you down."
Trumoss cleared his throat and furrowed his brow at her. "Wh-what are you talking about?"
She glanced down at the tea. "You didn't really think your work wouldn't attract attention from us, did you? The Changeling hive is always looking for the upper hand."
Trumoss backed away, stumbling as his stomach turned and convulsed. He fell on his back at the door, clutching his chest as his heart raced. "Honey, what's happening?"
Allure glazed her eyes over, replacing them with deep-blue compound eyes that stared unblinkingly at him. She hooked a hoof under the stallion and dragged him out into their foyer. Trumoss crawled on the tile flooring and propped himself up against the couch, but his blood shifted as he got up, and it dizzied him until he fell again.
Allure dropped her act, shedding her flesh and burning it up in a blaze of green to reveal chitinous black underneath. Trumoss didn't believe what he saw. Plates of natural black armour glimmering under the rising moon's light, pupilless blue eyes, fangs that glistened with starved saliva, she really was what she said.
Trumoss's lip quivered. "How long?"
Spectra chuffed at him. "Don't let your wife hear that. I don't think she'll like that you couldn't tell the difference between us. A few days, five I think, but my count might be off."
He turned his head to the stairs. "My kids, are they-"
"Ah, the ever important question of one's progeny," she smiled. "Maybe that's why I'm so messed up, I had a mother who didn't care if I lived or died." Spectra whistled with a high-pitched buzz of her throat and wings. Windows opened, then tumbling and shouting from the who girls.
Trumoss panicked and got on his hooves despite the poison kicking around in his gut. Spectra cast a wave of magic over him and he tumbled back down as if his legs had turned to lead. "What are you going to do to them?"
She didn't answer, she simply gestured for him to look to the stairs as her drones brought down Paradise and Willow, bound in rope. They were tossed by their father's hooves, and Spectra let go of her spell to allow him to rush to their aid.
"Are you two hurt?" He asked, checking over their bodies for bruises and untying their bonds. The two stared at him, panicked.
"What's going on daddy?" asked Paradise, clutching her father.
He caressed her mane. "I don't know, sweetie, but I'm going to everything I can to fix it."
He reached out to his elder daughter to check on her too, but Willow just laughed in his face. "You're pathetic, dad. I thought you'd be smart enough to figure it out by now."
Her flesh flaked away into green magic as Spectra's captain regrew his true form. "But maybe I shouldn't be too surprised, after all, you're a father who didn't even notice his kids suddenly eating dinner on time."
"Willow?" Trumoss gasped. He checked on Paradise and recoiled. Black pits, where her eyes used to be, shined green as muscle and ichor stitched itself back together from the inside. Paradise reworked her inner organs, spurting droplets of blood that evaporated into green magic.
His baby girl's face stripped its own skin bare, melting away softness as a rough black carapace tore through her cheeks and lips and nose and neck. Her grip felt like bones, prickling his skin as she gripped tighter.
"No, oh gods no," Trumoss slouched back, sobbing.
His breathing tightened even more from the poison but he didn't care. Red-eyed and crying he faced Spectra. "What did you do to them? Tell me where my family is!"
She knelt down and bushed her cheek against his, breathing her voice into his ears. "You'll do what I tell you because even if you don't realize it, your family loves you very much."
"All that love," she lapped up a bit of drool as she worked up her own appetite, "is something I can't stop the others from feeding on. Meaning right now, your wife and daughters are being drained of their magic, ravaged and ravished violently by dozens of my drones."
Trumoss screamed and struggled to fight back, but his muscles had given up fighting. As much as he wanted to make Spectra give him back his family, he was powerless to stop the poison ruining his body. She covered up his sobs by stuffing a hoof into his mouth as she licked clean the tears from his face.
Spectra clicked at one of her drones and they brought her the copies of the notes. "Explain this, now. I want to know everything you've been working on." Trumoss picked up the papers and scanned them over. Even in his condition he still recognized his work.
"I can't," he said, coughing harder and breathing shorter.
Spectra sighed and channelled a stream of magic through her horn. She kept her focus on one sensation, the bond she felt with her captain. He was not only strong and capable on the hunt, but he had gathered a massive pack under her direct command, half of which was still back in the hive. Looking around at the vast number she had on the hunt proved she and her pack were worthy of inheriting the hive, and that pride was the positive emotion she used to heal Trumoss.
"Right now I'm keeping the poison from killing you," she told him, "but I'm not reversing its damage, only stopping it. You do what I say or you die, and we'll just take your mares with us as our livestock."
He nodded and slowly stood up, leading Spectra to his study room. He looked at the papers she had copied and started explaining his research from there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While her drones were scribbling down notes, Spectra listened to Trumoss's quivering explanation. She was frustrated, he had already been given protection against poison and a promise to have his family back, what more did he need? Listening to him talk was painstaking, as he constantly stuttered and needed water.
"Just hurry up," Spectra said, nudging him over to his equipment. "What is this for?"
"Looking at cells," he said. "All living things are made of them, they're little compartments of organic material, the smallest functioning aspects of life."
Spectra looked at him sceptically, pulling him aside to see for herself. She levitated one of the samples under the lens, using the light of her horn to illuminate the fluid. She stared, unsure of what she was supposed to be watching for until a speck floated by the lens. A few more followed, shaped like stretched out balls, some with worm-like tails that helped them swim around.
"We..." she said, confused, "we're made of these things?"
"Yes," Trumoss nodded, "well, not those kinds exactly. There are thousands of different cells, the ones that make up our bodies act more like brick and mortar, not independent creatures."
Spectra internalized the information, imagining little square bricks linking together to form a thin membrane or skin, layering over each other to make muscle and chitin and organs. She picked up another stack of papers on the desk, a list of mixtures and measurements, one word of which she recognized.
"What are these mutagens you keep writing about?" She showed him the papers for reference.
Trumoss reached for a jar with a preserved manticore gland. "Monsters are somehow fusions of animals that already exist, animals that under no regular rules of biology should be able to exist in the same body with the same conditions. But they do exist and thrive easily in the wild, both of which I think is due to components in their bodies that have altering effects on normal animals."
"Alter how?" Spectra stepped closer. Trumoss tensed, but he didn't back down.
"I don't know what the mutagens are, not the same way I understand cells, but in solutions of mutagens I've been observing animal tissue gaining and losing functions, growing rapidly, and readily accepting cells from other animals to add it to itself. That's how monsters came to exist, I believe. They're animals disfigured by mutagens in their body."
Spectra lifted up the list again, counting up the individual names of the mutagens Trumoss had tested. She estimated over fifty individual components, but it was clear the effects of combinations, and combinations of those combinations, were endless.
She was fortunate that Trumoss had been planning to share his findings with less informed members of his kind. The explanations were clear, and the descriptions of how to refine a monster mutagens were straightforward, albeit repetitive.
"Make me a batch of as many different kinds of mutagens as you have, enough of each to affect a seed." Spectra ordered Trumoss. "I don't have a time limit, but every day you waste is one that my drones can have fun with their family."
"You mean, you'll give them back?" Hope glistened in his eyes. "It'll be a day or two, I promise! Everything I need is here, I might even have extra samples of some of the mutagens. But I beg you, spare them these few days, I-I-I'll work... as hard as I can, I'll work!"
Trumoss's speech flustered. His body was probably starting to heat up and itch as Spectra channelled more magic into him to clear out the rest of the monkshood she had used.
"Rest tonight, husband," she switched to his wife's voice one last time. "You can start first thing tomorrow morning." Trumoss stumbled, landing the side of his rib on the floor, mouth dribbling saliva as his body panicked, unsure of what to think of all the magic forcing its way around him.
Spectra smiled down on him. She wanted those mutagens quickly, but just in case he worked hard enough to finish in a day, she wanted to take the night for herself and see how good Willow really tasted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Between Marblestop and Riverfork laid fast swaths of forested hills and mountains. Teary-eyed morning wept dew drops on prickly pines, slickening soil. The sky's waist was a pinkish blossom, a mirror to the crates of flowers pulled by sleepy apprentices.
"Why are we coming this far, Master Marina?" asked a young filly, her apron still clean since she had been brought to the workshop solely to help with the production of river-iron, the unique alloy that made up the flesh of every spear stored inside the carts they pulled.
Marina huffed, falsely acting as if her load was as hard to pull. "It's a request from a business partner. I didn't get this high up in the metalworking industry without making a few expensive promises."
"We're closer to Marblestop at this point," moaned another apprentice. The young stallion, like most other earth-ponies who became blacksmiths, had a back chiselled from iron muscles. He pulled the weight of three carts by himself, easily as strong as Ferron, the stallion who Marina had originally worked with when she first came to Riverfork.
"Thus, they are 'expensive' promises, Wrought Iron," she said, gazing up the side of the mountain they were told to meet at. "If you ever learn how to hammer a spearhead straight, maybe you'll start a business and figure out what I mean."
"Or, I could just take over your workshop when you retire," he said, chuckling.
The filly kicked a rock at him. "Sun Birch was her first apprentice, do you think you have a chance?"
"I would if you'd stop hitting my head," he snapped back, "a smith has to be clever to measure the ore mixtures correctly."
"Oh, in that case, you're definitely not taking over," Marina interjected, laughing at her apprentice's expense.
They approached a unicorn and a farmer sitting on a log by the dirt path through the mountainside. Halfwing, or Mezza Forte, rather, waited with her companion for Marina's apprentices to haul the supplies to them.
"Everything's in here, right?" Mezza asked, looking over the materials. She levitated one of the spears, testing their balance, weight, and ability to spring back into shape. Any other shaft would snap against the dragon's scales. There were large spools of iron chains beside the spears.
Mezza looked to Marina.
"Just in case," she said. "You never know what you might need when you're killing a dragon."