//------------------------------// // The Blood // Story: The Age of Hunting // by SwordTune //------------------------------// The morning peeked into the top of the egg-nest where Weizenfauer laid. It was some six or seven hundred years ago he had hatched here, but the scent was still a powerful memory in his mind. The river's cold, moist air encountered the warm living air of the forest. Thousands of small birds and mammals made the forest warm enough for water vapour to settle in the still breeze as forest fog. Weizenfauer rolled over, his hardgut, a rugged organ that sat between his second stomach and liver, was bloated with clinking jewels he had eaten from a Riverfork merchant. The stallion was desperate after weeks of raids on other shipments. But sending the last of his riches to a buyer in the Marblestop settlement to gain some meagre profit only sealed his fate. Smoothing out his scales, they glistened like jewels themselves, stronger than they had ever been after so many gems. The same material that gave gemstones their hard and sparkling properties went into making the most enduring armour in the world, natural or otherwise. Weizenfauer stared at their colours, the deep ocean blue he worked so hard to keep healthy. A few of the many little birds that lived out in the mountain's forest entered the mouth of the nest. The worm-eaters and cricket-catchers, ponies had many names for their countless species, but Weizenfauer only cared that they could clean his scales. "Many good eats?" chirped a flower-yellow bird as she rested on his wing-joint. "I can feel them biting under my scales," he answered. "I don't bother counting how many annoyances I have in my life." "Much problems," she said, pulling out a blood-red worm that had wriggled its way under a scale on his back. Though they didn't understand dragon-tongue well, Weizenfauer couldn't deny himself the pleasure of talking to his cleaners. Birds were cleverest among the forest creatures, much more than the idiotic deer who knew four or five dragon calls, all cries for mercy, or derivatives thereof. Forest birds didn't hold a candle to the woven poetry of songbirds in the south, but for a decent conversation, he wouldn't judge too harshly. "How does the outside look today?" He shuddered with relief as a few other birds lifted his scales with their fine talons and removed the parasites that had stretched open the leathery under-scale and exposed his softer skin. The flower-yellow chirped as she popped a cricket that had nested in an uneven scale. "Coupling now and soon, spring arriving. Much time spending on love and dancing songs." "Oh?" Weizenfauer opened an eye to her. "I plan on staying here for a while. Should I expect to feed a few more little ones next year?" She hung her head and toyed around with a few more loose scales, arranging them into their proper place. "Passed time no songs for me. Not sure soon." "This year will be different," he told her, lifting his head to expose lecherous insects that had taken root on his neck. "A bird who dines at a dragon's scales should be considered royalty." He laughed. "Ha! Maybe I just want some hatchlings of my own. If the Dragon Lord hadn't taken my nest and mate, maybe I would have some by now. They'd be breathing their first big flames by now." "Much mountains, much caves," muffled the little yellow bird as she slurped down a few thirsty scale-lice. They were a relative species to the lice mammals suffered from in their coats, though Weizenfauer wished dragons were afflicted by the same kind that ponies dealt with. Scale-lice and scale-ticks, enriched by dragon blood, could grow to the size of cherries and grapes. The moment they were down the bird's gullet, the pain he had grown used to vanished, and the lack of pain felt just as shocking as a sudden bite. "Tail clean!" chimed some birds that had been tending to that area. His arms and legs felt lighter too, once the birds were done with them. He stretched out his whole body, rising to all fours and moving with relief. Ready for the day, he climbed up the nest's shelves into the neck of his cave. His eyes, to the new light and smells of the surface, sharpened his senses. The pupils, once wide to conform to the dark mountain heart, constricted into slits under the brighter rays striking the neck of his cave. His ears opened to let all the sounds clamour in, improved by the echoes of the stone walls. The airways in his skull, which ran like tunnels to a cavern of sensitive scent receptors, gave him all the knowledge of the forest. He smelled the trees, the deer, the squirrels scurrying along soil topped with mushrooms and fungal spores. Some twenty or thirty miles away he could smell the ashes of yesterday's hunt, the meadows still smouldering. Nearly a hundred miles away, from the weakness of its scent, a large trade ship headed for Riverfork had hauled up a large river mammal, butchering it for the dogs that accompanied the sailors. As good as gems were, Weizenfauer's appetite for real meat churned his stomach. But among the deer, the mixed scent of ponies irked him. There was something among them that he didn't recognize. It did a good job of hiding from him, he wouldn't have noticed they weren't ponies if he hadn't climbed up from the egg chamber of the cave. The great blue dragon retreated down into his cave, if his mystery creature was headed toward him, he'd burn them the moment they stuck their heads down the neck of his home. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Halfwing peered around the mouth of the cave they found at the peak of the mountain. It wasn't nearly as large as the entrance to the hive, but still, the roof of the mouth stretched as high the biggest manses in Marblestop. The climb was hard on the young ponies, but in time they caught up, dragging their carts laden with flowers and chains. "Why is a student from the Range studying out here?" asked Wrought Iron. "I heard you were in town to study local ponies." "I have private interests," Mezza Forte said, "and I'll be damned if I travelled all the way here only to miss one of Equestria's natural wonders." The young stallion looked around. "The woods? You can see trees anywhere!" He threw a hoof up in frustration. "Quiet," commanded the tall farmer who stuck close to Mezza Forte. "We're not here to see trees." "The dragon is inside," she whispered, breathing in the air. The filly apprentice, further behind and catching her breath, stuck up her ears and stepped back her hoof. "You mean you tracked the dragon and went toward its lair?" "Yes," answered Mezza. "Are you crazy?" asked Wrought Iron. "Yes." She picked up one of the river-iron spears and levitated one of the bundles of chains. The farm pony lifted a crate of the dragon flowers and hoisted them to the mouth of the cave and kicked them in. The crate crashed against the back of the cave, but there weren't as many flowers that piled up as he expected. "This is suicide!" The filly hurried back down the mountain before Marina caught up with her. "She's from the Range and a student," she told her apprentice. "That means she's travelled all over Equestria. We have mutual contacts in Ironmarsh, but she can give us so much more than that." "But we'll die," pleaded the filly. "Not if we follow her plan. Trust me, Damasca, I wouldn't put either of you in danger." A rainbow of birds left the cave as Mezza and her companion smashed a few more crates of flowers down the neck of the cave. The pieces of wood that clunked down the tunnel told them that the dragon had made his home much deeper than just a shallow hole in a mountain. "We might not be able to flush him out," Mezza said, looking at what they had left. If the caverns inside the mountain were too big, throwing flowers might not be enough to irritate the dragon. From her horn, she shot out a beam of light. The flowers they threw in were scattered around a hole that looked too narrow for a dragon to pass through. But the stench of its scales couldn't be clearer to Mezza. She entered the cave, spear levitating and ready to pierce the dragon's scales if he showed his face. The neck of the cave had large footholds in it, wide protruding ledges that a dragon could use to pull itself out of the cave when he wanted, but spaced apart enough that creatures without keen eyesight would fall to their death before they reached the end. "Stuff some flowers into your pockets," she told the others as she exited the cave. "The tunnel's deep, I'll have to levitate you all down there." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Marina's horn kept a low glint to mark the ledge she stood on while Mezza floated down her two apprentices. They forced themselves to stay calm, though both their breaths were shaking the deeper they went. The last rays of sunlight were above them, but even this deep the grey stone walls still revealed the deep gashes left by the dragon whenever he climbed out of his home. "Those look like it could take my head off," worried Wrought Iron. Damasca, however, jammed a hoof into his ribs to remind him to stay quiet. The tunnel ran deep, and probably carried every whispered sound to the end of the dragon's nest. Once they descended deep enough, however, the surface breeze that carried cold dew-spotted air down into the mountain turned around, becoming warm pulses. The dragon's breath choked the ponies with the smell of seared meat. Mezza paused their descent. The smell of flesh cleared away and the rising breath of the dragon smelled like a storm, like lightning splitting the air, as pungent as a hot summer's day. A fear kicked in her prime instincts and Mezza sealed off the tunnel with a barrier of magic just as the cavern below turned blue. A torrent of purple-blue fire danced around Mezza's defence, and even with the protection, it was impossible to prevent all the heat from fleeing up the neck of the cave. She maintained the shield around them as the dragon's flames retreated. The scalding air remaining in the cave was no doubt enough to cook them alive. "If the heat can get through, what about the fire?" Damasca pulled at Marina, urging a retreat. The unicorn stared at the bold flames, admitting to terror, but stood fast. "Fire, even an earth pony can start it with flint and tinder. Mezza's magic will keep us safe." Mezza turned to the farmer. "Use one of the spears as an anchor for a chain. I can't levitate us and keep the shield, we'll have to rappel down." "This is insane!" shouted Wrought Iron. The mountain shook beneath their hooves, and below the clear, glass-like veil of Meeza's barrier peered a wide-eyed azure dragon. Thundering laughter shivered the mountain stone. "Ha-ha! Thieves, assassins! Flee as you wish 'fore you die!" The apprentices turned to be like hapless frogs, hopping up at ledges too far to reach. The dragon's maw a crevice, it opened wide and inhaled, drawing them down and down, ever deeper into flesh-red walls with a hungering tongue and ivory pillars above and below. Mezza broke the barrier before they were sucked away into the dragon's mouth and put all her magic into a pushing wave strong enough to push the dragon's head aside as the ponies fell down the cavern, their flowers and equipment falling with them. As he whipped his head back to face his prey, carts of crates of orange-petaled flowers cracked against his armoured dome, spilling pollen across his blue-scaled face. Instantly the dragon roared, pulling his head in violent sways to shake off the plants. "Sick fiends, what are you that dares't harm a dragon?" Hellish fire trickled from his fangs. "Leave my home or you will burn!" Mezza threw up a barrier of magic, but not around herself and the ponies this time. The dome shimmered, encasing the dragon's head and spitting flames back in his face. It burned off the flowers, but instead of relieving his irritation, the smoke carried the pollen's curse into the dragon's eyes and enraged him further. Marina levitated one of the spears and aimed for the belly of the dragon. But he turned when she launched the weapon, knocking it off like his scales were made of the same hard stone as the mountain. Mezza tried to slow him down with magic; his scales reflected her spells like a polished copper plate. Behind pillar of stone that touched both roof and floor, Mezza found the apprentices hiding in fear. "Get out there and draw his attention!" she yelled, pushing them out of their safety toward him. His eyes, reflecting smouldering petals, shimmered red in the dark. The ponies froze with fear, but their whimpering and adrenaline were enough to alert the dragon's senses. Jaw and teeth widened for Damasca. The young mare screamed. If not for the farmer lashing a chain around one of the dragon's horns, she would have been swallowed on the spot. The dragon turned to the stallion, spraying a hot jet of fire. The stallion jumped away and kicked a spear at the dragon's eye. Thick, leathery skin folded over the eye and deflected the weapon. Wrought Iron dragged Damasca with him as they tried to get behind the dragon. Their master and her friends were determined to fight, but the two of them had nothing to offer. They ducked under beams of magic that reflected off the dragon's scales. Small steps along the side of the cavern looked like a way out, or, at least, a path to a safer position. They clamoured up, hurriedly avoiding the wide-sweeping tail that could fell a tree. Small scratch marks along the stone marked out a direction to the top of the shelf, a flat space where the ponies had to crouch to fit into, but was also above the fighting and away from the dragon's sight. All they could see was the coming and going light of the magic and fire. The cavern lit up in bursts, showing parts at a time. There were a few other crevices in the walls, Damasca noticed. She nudged Wrought Iron and pointed to one such crevice near the neck of the cave. Where the tunnel opened up was not a flat drop. Though uneven, mineral deposits sloped up, possibly enough for ponies to climb up if they needed to. It wasn't an escape, but there they'd be further from the fight. They crawled toward it. However, the dragon snapped up at them before they could get anywhere. "Hiding in my memory?" he exclaimed to them. "Where my siblings grew up? You defile their origins with that filthy stench you carry!" His tongue slithered into the crevice and swept Damasca off her hooves. Wrought Iron was stuck close by, pulling back on the young mare. He did his best to kick the dragon's tongue, but he may as well have kicked a brick wall. Damasca slid out of the crevice, tumbling many times down to the floor. Wrought backed away, but the tongue was longer than he expected. It stretched after him and pulled the young stallion into the hungry teeth of the dragon. And though pain shot through his entire body, Wrought Iron kept kicking to push to free himself. It was useless, of course. The dragon twisted his head and Wrought Iron's leg twisted with him, tearing off his body in a wet, crunching krchrkch and throwing his body across the cave, slapping the corpse against a wall. A long trail of blood was all that remained in the crevice. Their distraction was enough for Marina and Mezza to get hits in. Each carrying a spear, they thrust into the back of the dragon's knees. The joints were the few places without scales, but the weapons still flexed from the strain between the Changelings' strength and the dragon's thick hide. But nature always gave in to magic. Fueled by unnatural energy, Marina and Mezza propelled the spears through the dragon's skin. Inside was as soft as any other animal. They let go and blasted the wound with shockwaves of magic, pushing the spears to the bones of the knee. The screech that followed shocked Mezza's body like a thunderclap. Her ears, far more sensitive than a normal pony's, went hot. She was completely disoriented, and could only feel the blood running from her head. But her captain was still lively as ever. Clutching her ears, she staggered back and watched as he dragged long chains and flung them around the dragon's neck. Without his knees, the giant toppled easily. Mezza focused on her ears, stiffening some internal component to become more resilient, though it dulled her hearing below that of a pony's. She hurried to pick up another spear off the ground but stopped short when her captain transformed. His skin stretched and stitched itself back together, stretching out into a massive wetland reptile. The gator was massive, a little bigger than anything in nature. But it was still dwarfed by the dragon. Nevertheless, her captain rushed forward, surprisingly fast for his new size, and snapped after the arms. The dragon pulled himself back, turning his head to blast a jet of fire, but Marina levitated chains to wrap around his jaw. The metal links buckled and snapped, only slowing the dragon for a second, but it was enough for Mezza to thrust a spear between his scales and into his neck. She felt it pierce, and in a spasm of pain, the dragon stumbled and had to post his weight on an arm. Mezza left the spear and ran, splitting open her chitin as her magic charged her body's flesh. Thick fur sprouted and her fangs turned to lethal daggers, but most impressive of all was the size of her grizzly form. The bear, like her captain's gator, was larger than normal. With all her power she threw her weight on the dragon's supporting arm. His head twisted as Marina shot magic at his eyes. Without a good sense of balance left, Mezza's blow brought the dragon to the ground. All three Changelings turned back to their own forms, acting quickly with spears and chains. The dragon's limbs were wrapped tightly to the pillars of stone inside the cavern. He was slow to struggle, leaving the scant few soft spots at his joints exposed and pierced by many spears. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Weizenfauer recoiled, curling his tail around his head to cover his eyes and nose from the burning smell of their flowers. It was the one extremity they didn't have enough chains to hold down. But the spears in his back left his muscles torn, and he could do no more to escape than a moth could do to leave a spider's web. Changelings. He spat a pathetic ball of fire at their name, even if the spear hole in his neck burned when flames danced out in irregular directions. They smelled like ponies, but also not. Something about them didn't quite smell like anything at all. He watched one of them from under his tail. She, it had been a mare before, tied a scrap of clothing around their pony's legs, using one of their damned spears as a stint. He had felt worse from the parasites that dug under his scales, but only because they nagged him with pain for hours in his sleep. These spears were like no other weapon before them. Thin enough to fit between his scales but still strong enough to pierce his hide, he wondered if ponies had finally discovered some way to stop dragon raids on their villages. "What's happening?" quivered the young pony. She had survived falling off of his birth-shelf, but had to give up her hind legs to do so. He could smell the blood inside of her, a bone fragment was dangerously close to a major blood channel. "Where are the other ponies I came with?" she cried. Weizenfauer grunted as the male Changeling tightened the chains around his wrist. Every time the young mare asked the same question, he could feel the Changeling's irritation. It didn't feel good. "We already told you, we are those same ponies," he grunted through his teeth. She shook her head. "Not Marina. What did you do to my master? She's an integral part of Riverfork, ponies will know she's missing!" "Let me quiet her down," said the other female Changeling, who was tasked with pressing down a spear into Weizenfauer's shoulder blade. "They don't do well with stress. She sounds like she's in shock rather than denial." "I'll take care of her," said the Changelings making the stint. Weizenfauer knew what a leader looked like, but in their scent, he could tell that the Changeling on his back was senior to the others. Why that one wasn't in charge was a mystery to him. The leader slowly climbed over the young mare. No, Weizenfauer blinked. She was on the cusp of becoming a mare. More like a filly, her horrified scream hit high notes he had only ever heard in birds. The leader was feeding on her, drawing magic out from the pony's breath and into her horn. She struggled despite her injuries, but she was tightly bound between the Changeling's thighs. Their torsos pressed against each other, the leader dominating her prey, forcing the pony to submit. The dragon felt his stomach churn. He had once heard about how Changelings hunted ponies, but this was the first time he could be a witness. It was every bit as grotesque as he imagined and more, disturbing him so much he had to turn his head away. Like every dragon he hoarded gems, but for his meals, he was a generous hunter. He hunted what he needed, and never savoured cruelty. Not like the Changelings. They seemed to revel in torturing their food. When he opened his eyes, the pony had slumped onto the floor, sobbing quietly as the leader nibbled away at her ear and neck. From moment to moment, the filly churned with pain as another layer of her flesh was peeled off for the Changeling to swallow. "I haven't properly eaten," she explained after lapping up the pony's blood. "Your magic is the best cut of you, but I can't heal a body from nothing. Just a little bit more, dear. A growing princess needs her food." Weizenfauer lurched. A princess? The hive had only one queen, he had heard. Bloody and ruthless, the Dragon Lord ordered all dragon kind to stay away from the Changeling hive because of what he saw the Queen could do to a village of ponies. "Princess, he's started resisting again," said the male. "Can we kill him now?" She glared up from her meal. "Not a chance, captain." Rising up on her hooves and trotting gleefully, the princess climbed up to Weizenfauer's back and pushed aside the other female. She knelt down and pressed her mouth against his shoulder blade, her rough chitin against his hard scales, and she tongued cautiously the wound. "At least you taste good enough," she said, releasing a small spontaneous laugh. Using all her weight she reeled back and slammed the spear deeper into his back, scraping the shoulder blade as she contorted his muscles. Weizenfauer bore the pain with little expression. The spear hurt, but it was a small bite compared to his entire body. He tried to rise, but his joints were helpless, lacking the strength to pull at the chains. "I first learned how to transform by eating rats and lizards in my hive," she continued to giggle as she tortured him. "My bitch of a mother named me Halfwing, insulting a deformity she caused me to have, effectively exiling me from my sisters. I never had enough food, and some days it took everything I had inside me not to just swallow those little blood pouches whole." As if to prove her point, the princess dropped back down to the wound and peeled back a scale, giving room for her to gorge on his flesh. Weizenfauer cracked open his jaws as far as the chains around them would allow and ejected a thin stream of fire at the male Changeling in defiance. It caught him off guard, but not enough to let go of the chains. The deeper she went, the more unbearable the feeling became. "Parasite," he insulted, using the pony's language as a common tongue between them. "Yes, I am," she sighed happily as a starving pony would at the sight of a feast. She licked her lips clean. "I stripped every animal I was fed down to the bone. Each organ, I watched and learned. I had to keep my prey alive for their magic, after all." Slowly, she plucked out the scales that had come loose around the dragon's wound. "So when I planned to kill you to save my hunting grounds, I realized something. Killing you would kill your organs, and then I'd gain nothing. But keep you alive..." The princess threw her head back as she wrapped herself in a green light, purging much of her flesh until all that remained was a large black worm. Weizenfauer didn't recognize the species, but he didn't have to guess what it could do. He twisted his neck and tail, using mainly his weight to force his chains to come loose. He managed to shake off the female Changeling before the male levitated a bundle of flowers and threw them in his face. The pollen burned his nose and dragged forceful coughs from the dragon's chest. He stumbled back down, crashing his weight against the immovable earth. He refocused his senses on his back, and a recognizable feeling crept into him, but more intensely. The princess was already inside him, rooting around his body to learn how to take a dragon's form. His eyes darted over to the filly. No wonder they kept her alive, they needed her to sate their appetites while they deconstructed his body. Weizenfauer cursed himself for not killing her when he had the chance, but he didn't show it on his face. No matter what he did now, even if he killed the other two and escaped his bonds, he'd die. The princess was too deep in his back to be pulled out by a bird. Whatever dread he felt for himself and the pony, he shoved away. He was a great azure dragon, returned to Equestria to claim his home. He would save his strength and think of a way to get the princess out before his own flesh turned the Changeling into an abomination. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Nearing the middle of Spring, the nights became noticeably shorter, the sunset coming much later. Fields and forests teemed with life. Spring was a season of love for many animals. Night-hunting birds and furtive field mice stuck their heads out to the greet their long-awaited night. The Citrus Hills housed critters beyond ponies and their pets, with easy pickings for both prey and predator. Spectra wiped her lips clean from her feeding session with Trumoss's eldest daughter. The younger and his wife were returned, she had kept that part of their bargain, but he didn't need to know, nor could he know, that her pack still had one of her hunters in his house. How long the mutagen samples would last was not certain. She needed an agent close to Trumoss to continue sending mutagens until she could create drones by herself. Light-drones hung on the top branches of the nest looking like stars in the night-shrouded forest. They were small ones, their egg sacs about the size of a large beetle, but the Changelings were still bright. Their light wasn't yellowish-green like the light-drones in the Hive, however. Their mutation made them blue, a minor side effect of Spectra's new process. But they were drones, full living drones. Not perfect, but it was a remarkable improvement from the amalgamations of flesh she used to make. Taking in the sight stirred Spectra's determination again. She spread her wings and flew up to a nest-room the groundskeeper had turned into a workshop for her eggs. Sacs of nutrient fluid, processed from the meat of small game, hummed with magic. Spectra could smell life growing in them before she could see them, the little black specks that she'd have to expand into full organisms. Think back to your egg-dreams. Spectra recalled her mother's scant lessons on reproducing Changelings. Like healing a wound, she fed her eggs with magic from her memories. Happiness and desire. She dug through her mind and let the most intense memory pick itself out. A sweet taste washed over her lips when her mind focused on a memory of Lunti. It was a memory of when she had gotten a ball of muscle to grow in her egg sac. One of her first attempts, that day felt like she had finally started catching up with Majesta, who was finally struggling with the same problem. Even though she had just fed, thinking of her first prey made Spectra salivate as if nothing else could sate her. Lunti wasn't just soft and tender like all the other ponies. Spectra had learned how to navigate the nuances of her body. She knew where Lunti was flexible and what positions hurt, and had become a master at coercing magic out of her body. Another memory appeared. It was of one of Spectra's most exhausting days. That day she had been so close to creating different organs, even if the lung wasn't supposed to be fused to the stomach. She remembered how she limped back into her pantry and curled up around Lunti. She woke up her snack by nibbling at where she was most sensitive. The spine, the neck, Lunti stirred awake in a short panic as usual, but she didn't try to escape. They were long past that. Spectra savoured the memory of Lunti's short breaths as she tried to calm her body's natural fear. She nuzzled closer to Spectra on her own, giving up her magic willingly. Spectra wondered if her prey had finally acknowledged that submission was their only option. As a willing source of magic, she had full protection from the other hunter-drones and ate fresh food taken from the surface. Occasionally, she was even free to play and chat with the other ponies in the Pen. Spectra opened her eyes, slower and slower. She couldn't believe how long it took for light to return to her eyes. Dawn had come, the purple sky taking on a fleshy-pink hue and her light-drones slowly fading away in their pods. She breathed in the morning air and took in all that the horizon encompassed. And then she smelled her spawn. One, only one, sac had successfully matured into a hunter-drone. Through the fluid of the egg-sac, she could tell it had an unusually thin carapace. The drone was dark-grey rather than black and had no horn on his head. He was the definition of imperfect, and Spectra couldn't be happier. She heard a pair of wings buzzing up to meet her. Turning around, she faced the groundskeeper, who immediately shifted his eyes onto the egg. "Ah, motherhood," he mused. "Sometimes I'm glad drones are sterile. Raising a child isn't for me." Spectra smirked. "You have that in common with mother." "Maybe that's the price of loyalty." He landed gently on the nest so he wouldn't disturb the eggs. "I guess that's what makes you a princess, and me just a lowly drone." He laughed levelled his head down to the egg-sac. The stumpy ball of fluid, sitting on a bed of leaves, came up to his shoulders. The groundskeeper looked more and more interested whenever the drone would twitch or spasm. It was living in the memories imprinted on it by Spectra. "I've spent almost my entire life out here, away from the hive." He whispered. "I had all but forgotten that we even have young." Spectra raised a brow at the groundskeeper. "If you want one of your own you could try praying. I hear ponies have fertility spirits that grant old wives miracle children." "And make that child suffer with me as their parent?" The groundskeeper shook his head and laughed at the thought. "I'm happy to leave the burden of our species on your shoulders." Spectra smiled, but when she stepped nearer to look at her own creation, a sharp weakness quickly overtook her knees and forced her to sit down. "Easy now," the groundskeeper stared. "Lost a lot of magic, didn't you? You've been in deep thought all night, by now that mare you kept from the village should be rested for another feeding." Spectra propped herself up against the wall of the nest. "This hunger's different. It's not just appetite, I feel empty on the inside like there's not enough of me to go around." "You feel like eating anything in particular?" Spectra licked her lips and thought for a moment. Not even the memory of Lunti's magic seemed to fit her cravings. No, her mind focused on cheese and meat, material foods. They lacked magic, but maybe it wasn't magic her body wanted. "What do we have in the traps?" The groundskeeper shrugged. "The usual rabbit and racoon. The wild boar that fell in one of the pitfalls yesterday might still be alive." Spectra leaned her back against the wall and slid down to rest. "Good, bring me the boar if it lives, and some rabbits. On the way, tell a drone I need some cheese from the ponies. Even if they don't make their own, I'm sure some pony in Citrus Hills traded for some." The groundskeeper perked up his wings and hovered out of the nest. "Sure, I'll play errand-colt. I've got nothing else to do right now." Spectra smirked as he left her to rest and she turned her eyes to her creation. Groundskeeper drones, they were defective hunter-drones, born with unusual independence and an inability to hunt well in groups. She hoped her first drone wouldn't turn out like that. She needed to spawn drones who could fight in her pack. It would be undeniable proof she had the skill needed to become Queen.