//------------------------------// // Through the Cold Skies // Story: Outside the Reach of His Hooves // by applezombi //------------------------------// The skies were bright and mostly clear.  Pharynx wasn’t sure if it was an ominous signal or not; usually there’d be at least a few pegasi flitting about, but it was early enough that they were probably at home, opening Hearth’s Warming presents or sharing breakfast with their family.  There was nopony about to see the turquoise pegasus with a blue and black mane flying over their farms and homes. But the trip from the Badlands to Ponyville was long and lonely.  Even in pegasus form, with their superior wing stamina and staying power, he had to take a break about an hour’s flight southwest of the growing little town. Pharynx found one of the few clouds dotting the skies, slowing his wingbeats enough to land gently on the fluff.  Cloud walking really was the best part of taking a pegasus form.  There was something about the vantage point that he really enjoyed; while staying relatively hidden from those below, a changeling in disguise could spot threats from above, miles away. The vantage point made him feel safe enough to rest, so Pharynx relaxed into the cloud, entering into the half-aware, half-doze that all changelings were taught as nymphs.  It was a good way to get some shallow rest when on a solo mission. Not that there was much need for infiltration missions any longer. As Pharynx tried to quiet his agitated mind so he could rest, though, he couldn’t help but remember his last solo mission for the Hive. “Going out again?” The cold, imperious voice behind him echoed off the cave walls and made Pharynx pause, barely suppressing a shiver as he set his saddlebags on his back and turned slowly. In the green glow of the Hive’s light, his Queen stood, staring down at him under arched brows. “If you allow it, my Queen,” he bowed low. She huffed. “If you insist. You know what you’ll find, though. Or what you won’t find.” “He’s not dead, Your Majesty.” “You seem so sure,” a vulpine grin split her muzzle, but it didn’t touch the hostility in her eyes. “Well, good news for you. I also know he’s not dead. I would have felt it.” “Then…” “There are reasons other than death for his absence, drone. Cowardice. Treason.” “Thorax would never…!” “You don’t know as much about Thorax as you think you do, drone.” “I am aware that Thorax can be… unconventional sometimes, but he is an asset to the Hive. After our…” he paused, and Queen Chrysalis glared at him. He gulped. “…setback at Canterlot, we can’t afford to leave resources behind.” The queen leaned down, slowly, her horn glinting in the light and her eyes narrowed. “I am not stupid, drone. Nor am I easily deceived. Would you like to try again?” “He’s my brother, Your Majesty.” Pharynx felt his heart sink. There was no way she’d let him go now. “So it’s sentiment,” Queen Chrysalis stood back up, rolling her eyes. “Weak. Idiotic.” “B-but I’m not wrong. He thinks outside the box, looks for unconventional solutions to insurmountable problems. Thorax is…” “I’m tired of your arguing, drone. I already said you could go.” The Queen seemed tired. “Only the training of the nymphs has to resume soon. I had hoped you would return to your old duties. But if you’re too busy searching the countryside for your brother, I suppose I could step in and take care of things.” “Y-you, Your Majesty?” “I have been known to train the young, now and then,” the Queen huffed. “Perhaps the survival rate is not as good as yours, but I can assure you the drones my methods produce are far hardier and elite than the drivel you’ve been churning out.” She turned, her hoofsteps echoing menacingly in the stunned silence that followed. “Wait!” Pharynx desperately called, as he shrugged out of his saddlebags. “Wait. I… I’ll stay. I’ll return to my post, Your Majesty.” “Good. No more wasting your time searching for a traitor. I’ll expect you to take charge of tomorrow’s class, first thing in the morning.” Her tail swished angrily as she left, not even bothering to look behind her. Pharynx was left behind in the small round cave that made up his and Thorax’s room. He glared at his brother’s nest, empty and gathering dust. He hadn’t seen or heard anything of Thorax since the invasion. He walked over, kicking at the pile of rags and fluff that made up Thorax’s sleeping pile. A wave of dust puffed up, and Pharynx turned away before he had to breathe it in. It was then that he heard a delicate cough behind him. Then another. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the room until he found a particular stalactite that hadn’t been there before. Silently Pharynx cursed his inattention. He should have noticed long before, when he came in to pack. He was getting sloppy and distracted. He faced the offending stalactite, staring at it patiently. For a few moments nothing happened. Pharynx sighed, then picked up a bundle of the dusty cloth with his magic and hurled it at the stalactite. The stalactite let out a terrified yelp and tumbled to the floor in a clatter of stone, before igniting with green changeling fire. Pharynx was ready to pounce, until he saw the tiny nymph who had been spying on him. “Ocellus.” He kept his voice blank and even, though inwardly he was quite proud. He’d never known she was there. And from what he could tell, neither did the Queen. She was something special. Not that he’d say anything. “U-um. Y-yeah, it’s m-me,” she stammered, shrinking against the floor as he stepped forward. “S-sorry.” “You’re in my room, Ocellus.” “Uh… yep, I am!” “Why are you in my room, Ocellus?” The little nymph was shaking. Pharynx sighed, and lowered himself to his stomach on the floor next to her. “Hey. Relax. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” “I’m not,” Ocellus said. She didn’t stammer a bit. “I’m never afraid of you, Pharynx.” He had to stop himself from scowling at that. What about all the yelling during training? He was the hardest drill sergeant the Hive had, besides Queen Chrysalis herself. He was supposed to be intimidating. Something must have shown on his face, because Ocellus giggled, taking a step or two forward to wrap her tiny hooves around his muzzle in an awkward sort of hug. He let it happen for three seconds before shoving her off and standing to his hooves. “You didn’t answer me. Why are you in my room, Ocellus?” She shuffled her hooves, looking down. “I miss Thorax.” He snorted, deliberately not looking at his brother’s nest. “Weak. Sentiment is worthless.” “But…” “Nymph!” he shouted, and she instinctively snapped to attention, her tiny hooves jerking stiff and upright. “What is the greatest strength of the Hive?” “Adaptability, sir!” she called back the rote response. He nodded. “Exactly. You can’t keep hanging on to Thorax. It’s time to adapt to his absence. Grow past him, and grow stronger.” “But…” “I don’t care if he makes you feel safe, Ocellus. It ‘s time to move on.” “He doesn’t make me feel safe, Pharynx. Thorax makes me feel happy. And I miss him. But it’s you who make us all feel safe.” Pharynx had no response for that. “…ster pegasus?  Hey, you, up there on the cloud?” Pharynx blinked a few times, then inched over to the edge of the cloud and looked down at the pony that had broken him out of his half-asleep memory. While he’d been resting, the cloud had drifted above a snow-draped farm.  He could see an old earth pony stallion looking up at him, his coal-grey hoof at his mouth as he called out. “Yeah, you, mister pegasus.  Come on down, won’t ya?” He was dressed like a farmer, with a worn but clean wide brimmed hat that shaded his eyes as he looked up.  A wool scarf was wrapped around his neck.  Pharynx looked, but he didn’t see any other ponies. It was probably safe. Pharynx lifted off the cloud and beat his wings slowly, just enough to float gently to the ground in front of the farmer. “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to disturb you.  The cloud must have drifted while I napped.” “Nothing ta worry about, young stallion,” the farmer waved a hoof.  “The name’s Beetroot.”  He held out a hoof, and Pharynx shook it. “I’m called Pharynx.”  Thorax had said he had to keep a low profile, and go in pony form.  He didn’t say anything about lying or fake names. “Huh.  That’s a funny handle.”  Beetroot shrugged.  “Anywho, I spotted ya on that there cloud and thought I’d call ya and make sure everything’s okay.  It’s Hearth’s Warming Day, after all.”  He narrowed his eyes, then plowed forward with the boldness of age.  “Ya got somewhere to be for the feast?  Can’t stand the thought of somepony being alone on the holiday.” “Even a stranger?” More pony sentiment.  Didn’t they have security protocols? Beetroot laughed.  “There’s no such thing as a stranger, sonny.  Just a friend I ain’t met yet.” This is why speaking with ponies was sometimes so unsettling for Pharynx.  Sure, they had their con artists and liars.  But most of them were just like this old farmer. “Thanks, I appreciate it, but no.  I am on my way to see family.  Kind of last minute thing.” “Oh!” the farmer’s eyes lit up.  “You probably mean that sweet little changeling at the Princess’ school.  Ocellus, right?” Pharynx stepped back, his wings spread nervously.  But Beetroot just eyed him with a laugh. “I may be a backcountry hick, son, but I ain't dumb.  I know what it means when a pony’s named after a bug part.  And when they forget to add a cutie mark to their disguise.” Pharynx reared back, actually jerking a few feet into the air, hovering while he craned his neck to check.  There was a cutie mark there, a grey storm cloud with wings.  He glared back at the farmer, who was smirking. “So, you are Ocellus’ kin.  Well, it ain’t none of my business why you feel like you gotta hide.  But when you see that little one o’ yours, wish her a happy Hearth’s Warmin’ for me, will ya’?” “You… you’ve met Ocellus?” “Oh sure,” the farmer waved a hoof.  “Your kin’s a real sweetheart.  All her friends are, really, even that cranky griffon.  C’mon on to the cellar.  I’ve got a barrel of cider that needs taste-testing.” “Your family won’t miss you?” “The grandfoals are busy playing with their new toys, and my own kids’re napping.”  Beetroot turned and began walking towards the back of the farmhouse, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Pharynx landed and followed him. The door to the root cellar was heavy oak, and Beetroot heaved it open with barely a strain of his muscles.  It was a reminder of how strong ponies were.  How much of a threat. There was nothing stopping Pharynx from ignoring the invitation.  This farmer didn’t know who he was.  There would be no real harm done if Pharynx just turned and flew away.  He’d rested all he needed to, after all. He followed Beetroot into the cellar. The simple cellar was lined with shelves, each one full of glass jars with preserves, canned peaches and apples and green beans.  There was even a trio of wooden casks against the north wall.  Beetroot approached them, licking his lips. “This is what I was coming for when I spotted you.  The missus gets annoyed if I touch any of the hard stuff before dinner, but somepony’s gotta make sure the cider tastes okay before the grownup party tonight, right?”  He winked at Pharynx, and retrieved a tap and a pair of chipped ceramic mugs from a nearby shelf.  He carefully inserted the tap into one of the three casks and filled both of the mugs. “You won’t get in trouble?” “She might give me a little grief,” Beetroot shrugged as he filled the mugs.  “I’ll be fine.  But you’re here to wet your throat, and to hear about your family, right?”  He passed one of the mugs to Pharynx. Pharynx waited until Beetroot took a long drink before sipping a little of his own.  It was fruity and sweet, but the bite of alcohol dominated everything.  Beetroot licked his lips then eyed the amber liquid.  “Little stronger than I’d like.  We’ll have to go slow.”  He laughed again.  “So.  I didn’t realize Changelings celebrated Hearth’s Warming.” “It’s pretty new to us,” Pharynx said.  “The king likes the idea of it, but he wants to make our own traditions.  I find it all a bit silly.”  He didn’t know why he added the last bit; he barely knew this stallion. “Silly’s fine, as long as the important bits are there,” Beetroot sat on the floor, leaning back to take another drink.  “Family, friends, togetherness, all that stuff.” “He made sure to keep those details,” Pharynx said.  He felt impatient; he was still nervous about Ocellus.  “You were going to tell me about Ocellus, though?  About how she’s doing?” “Everypony in Ponyville loves havin’ the school around, and not just for the business it brings,” Beetroot said.  “Sure, there’s some chaos sometimes, but nothing we haven’t dealt with before.  One o’ my own grandfoals, Celery Stick, is attending the school, and he says Ocellus is kind to everypony.”  He paused, giving Pharynx an apologetic flinch.  “Everycreature.  There was even a time when Celery was supposed to foalsit his younger siblings, only one of his teachers was gonna make him stay late to retake a test or something.  Ocellus stepped right up with no warnin’.  That girl’s great with foals, lemme tell ya.  A real natural.” The story reminded Pharynx why he was here, though.  “That’s why I’m here.  Something happened and Ocellus and her friends got in trouble.  They made them stay late over the holiday break.” “So you flew down to check on her?” Beetroot said.  Pharynx nodded.  “Well, if she got in trouble I’m sure it weren’t no big deal.” “But it wasn’t her.  It was the griffon.”  Pharynx couldn’t help but growl.  “He sabotaged the tree and wouldn’t confess, so Twilight said they’d all have to stay until somebody admitted it.  Only when he did confess, they punished Ocellus and her whole group of friends anyways.” “Huh.” Beetroot said, motioning his hoof for Pharynx to go on.  So he did, telling the whole story he’d gotten from the letter.  “Sounds like your kin’s got a real loyal streak in her.  Skipping the holidays to support a lonely creature?  It’s just the sort of thing a good friend would do.” “But I thought your holiday was about friendship and family.  Not having to choose between the two.”  He couldn’t help a little bitterness.  “That’s tough,” Beetroot nodded.  “But maybe it was like this.  Maybe Ocellus was smart enough to know who needed her more.  Because she knew she had you and yours at home, to give her strength, she was able to help her friend.”  He smirked again, before polishing off the last of his cider.  “Or maybe she knew you well enough to know you’d come runnin’, and she could have both.”