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// 2 Infiltration 
// Story: A Changeling can Change 
// by Bronyxy 
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The Badlands gave way slowly to a patchwork of lush green fields underneath him as he approached his destination. Wary of being seen in his comfortable changeling form, he kept a good look out for ponies, but noted that the fields and the orchards seemed to have been left pretty much to themselves.

Eager to continue in his own skin for as long as possible, he continued on his way, and only when he finally saw a farmhand wearing a wide brimmed straw hat did he reluctantly consider putting down to change his appearance. He selected a small copse of trees that appeared to hold no agricultural value and gave a last little buzz of his wings as he settled onto the ground; it would be a long time before he would be able to hear the sound of his insectoid wings again, he lamented. 

Casting his mind back to the day of the attack, he recalled being in a large building waiting to ambush a group of six pastel ponies of different colours. He had changed into all of their forms at different times during the ensuing fight, and could still remember how to change into each of them at will. Two had wings, two had horns and two others had neither. 

He reasoned that wings would be an advantage at the moment, so compared the two body forms he could recall in his mind’s eye; a yellow one and a blue one. The blue one had been a brave fighter, so was probably well known, whereas he couldn’t recall the yellow one having played a very active role in the fighting, so was probably less likely to arouse suspicion. This then would be his choice. He focused his mind, and in a flash of green light that he hoped nopony saw, emerged as a pegasus mare with a long pink tail, ready to continue his journey.

The wings were not like his own and he quickly found himself disappointed with how underpowered they seemed to be; indeed, on his first attempt, he beat them as hard as he could and remained stubbornly stuck to the ground. He gave the earth under his hooves a firm kick and tried again, this time just about getting airborne.

Struggling to keep in the air, he gradually became more accustomed to the pegasus wings and how to use them. He stopped trying to buzz them like insectoid wings and settled back to a more gentle loping rhythm and soon found that this was how they worked better; they still weren’t great, by his reckoning, but at least he had made them work just enough to pass as a pegasus.

The rich and fertile arable terrain that he flew over now began to contain and increased number of ramshackle looking homesteads and then a mix of indistinct tracks fused together into one clearly defined path heading up a hill towards a mountain. Looking forward he could see the tall towers and glittering roofs of Canterlot; different from the last time he had come this way as it was no longer shrouded in a protection spell, brighter, shinier, altogether more gaudy and nothing at all like the hive.

He narrowed his eyes against the sight and fell in behind a couple of other pegasi who had just flown past him, deep in conversation, clearly heading towards the centre of the city. They flew with the confidence of knowing their way around and he followed them at a constant separation, just to make sure he didn’t stand out.

The two pegasi put down in the main square and he watched closely to observe the protocol they followed whilst navigating into a landing space and then how they blended in effortlessly amongst the pedestrian traffic afterwards. He replayed their moves in detail, feeling a sense of trepidation as he attempted that peculiar new backwinging motion he hadn’t seen before as they landed.

It wasn’t as easy as it looked, and he failed to slow down sufficiently, landing too hard and to fast, and stumbling forward a few steps as his legs threatened to buckle.
“Oh my, Miss” came a concerned voice, “Are you alright?”
“Yes” Kevin replied cautiously, worrying he was just about to be unmasked as a spy, after having failed to conceal his identity for anything more than a few seconds in the enemy’s city.

“That was a nasty trip” the kind voice continued, “You might have fallen.”
The primrose pegasus looked around to see if he was being surrounded by a hoard of vengeful ponies, as would happen if a lone pony had been caught by a changeling patrol, but saw nothing except for a concerned pair of eyes looking back at him.

“Yes, I might have fallen” he repeated, recognising that the situation called for a response, but not knowing what else to say. The words danced towards the chivalrous old stallion in Fluttershy’s demure tones, alighting softly in his ears where they sounded like the most beautiful tune ever played on the finest harp.

Kevin felt increasingly uncomfortable with the attention, fearing exposure at any moment, and trotted away as quickly as possible, feeling the eyes of the elderly stallion tracking every step of the delicate female form, which unbeknown to him was not a pony at all …

The individual ponies making up the thronging crowds all seemed to know precisely where they were going, and all conducted the same effortless looking dance of avoiding each other with no collisions and no appreciable dramas. Weaving amongst them, Kevin tried to comprehend the dynamics of the crowd, but soon became confused as the individuals refused to behave as a coherent unit in the way that changelings would.

The more he thought about how conspicuous he felt, the more conspicuously he behaved, and made his way to the safety of a doorway where he would wait for the melee to ease before setting off again. He stepped in through the door, grateful for the respite, but found to his shock that this was the entrance to a shop of some kind, and as he spun around to see if escape was a better option, an impatient voice from behind interjected, “Well, are you going in or not?”

Like a rabbit in headlights, he quickly decided to move forwards, as it seemed altogether quieter inside than outside, back on the street.
“Table for one, Madam?” asked a maternal looking mare with a sophisticated foreign accent he had not heard before.
With no idea what this shop offered, and trying not to stand out, Kevin thought the reply “Yes” to be more appropriate than anything else, and soon found himself whisked away past tables where ponies were putting fruit, vegetable and cereal based items into their mouths, and apparently enjoying the experience.

Next thing, the strangely speaking mare directed him to a similar looking table by himself and proffered a folded piece of card, asking, “Do you want to order now, or shall I come back?”
Stuck for an answer, the evidently busy mare left him alone to attend to duties elsewhere in the large room, giving him time to stare about in confusion.

Sooner than he expected, the overworked mare returned, tapping a notepad impatiently with a pencil.
“Would Madam care to order now please?”
He didn’t know what to say, so thinking quickly responded with, “What is there?”
“Hay burger and fries à la mode is popular” she replied.
“I’ll take one” he replied, unsure of exactly what he was agreeing to.

She looked at the yellow pegasus a little oddly; that wasn’t quite how orders were usually phrased.
Sensing he had said something wrong, he tried to recover the situation. If one had been wrong, perhaps he should go for two?
“I’ll take two” he tried instead.

The ponies around him fell silent and started to stare, as the mare looked back at him even more askance than before, indicating strikingly that he had once again managed to get it completely wrong and was now just continuing to make things worse.
“What do you think?” he asked in desperation.
“I’d start with just the one if I were you, Hun” she advised, “… and see how you get on before you order another.”
“Yes, of course” he acquiesced, wishing the whole room would disappear.

“Mommy, mommy!” a foal barely old enough to be a filly tugged at her mother, who was engrossed in a chat with a mare friend over tea and a slice of cake.
“Mommy!” she called more insistently.
“Yes, what is it dear?” her mother finally acknowledged, tearing herself away reluctantly from a nebulous discussion about the latest celebrity manestyles.

“Mommy, mommy, look!” she hissed, tugging at her harder and hoofpointing towards the lone diner in a manner that was intended to strike a balance between clandestine politeness and her obvious sense of urgency, but which simply succeeded in drawing more attention to herself.
“What is it?” asked the adult mare testily, with a voice that more than suggested ‘this better be good or you’re in trouble’.
Her eyes scanned over the patrons in the direction her daughter was indicating, giving a cursory inspection to each, when she cottoned on. Pink mane extensions.
“Isn’t that …” she whispered conspiratorially to her daughter and her marefriend.
“Yes, Mommy” the foal squealed with excitement, leaving the table without even waiting for permission, “It’s Fluttershy!”

All eyes returned to the imposter, whose sixth sense alerted him to a rising interest in his presence. He looked up to see eyes focusing on him from all directions, turning his head to see an excited foal scampering towards him.

He felt threatened. He had clearly been exposed. Somehow, these ponies had seen through his disguise and now he was in danger. He rose to his hooves and considered confronting the foal advancing towards him, but could see he was outnumbered, so eyed the exit, worked out the clearest path to it, and ran, bumping into diners and knocking over chairs as he went.

Kevin surged out breathlessly into the street that only a few minutes previously he had tried to escape, a chorus of indignant diners ringing in his ears.

A nondescript caramel unicorn with a brown mane and particularly attentive eyes rose with sudden purpose, hastily spilling a few bits on the table in front of him and following the rushed departure out of the exit. He had a sixth sense too, and it was telling him that there was a story here.