//------------------------------// // Chapter 12 // Story: Don't Bug Me // by Starscribe //------------------------------// “I’m sorry you died here.” The words felt alien on her tongue, as strange as the horse she was looking at. Four people had died tonight, all because Albrecht wanted to capture and dissect her brother. She pushed, but the horse was so much heavier than she looked. Amie had to crawl right up next to the corpse, shoving through the mud. Deep red blood splashed up against her body, mixing freely with the chilly water. Something… happened. Amie wasn’t exactly sure what. It felt more exhausting than working for hours to treat a horse as he bled out on the riverbank.  It didn’t come from the body, so much as herself. A reflex passed through her, making her whole body tense and flex. Light flared around her, so bright that it briefly blinded her. There was no way to resist—by the time it began, it was over. The mud finally gave way, and with one final shove, the corpse drifted out into the water to flow away like the other two. As she expected, the weight of all that metal brought it down, quickly vanishing under the surface. Perhaps not a dignified burial, far less than the dignity deserved by someone who died for their country. But Amie couldn’t offer her anything else. She paused in the river, bending down to wash the blood and slime from her body. Not just from the slain flying-horse, but the surviving one as well. She’d been working for hours, after all.   The water felt different, somehow. It didn’t bite as much as she was used to, and she couldn’t feel it passing eerily through her legs. Was something wrong with her? Her wings were the strangest of all—instead of passing through smoothly, the water dragged on her feathers, pulling her deeper. She stepped out, shaking herself free, and looking down at her reflection. But even her eyes were struggling. Where before the moonlight was enough to see anything she wished, now the world was shrouded in deep shadows. She could only see an outline and what she saw made her scream. She flared both wings, backing away from the water. But she could still see the feathers to either side. Even her voice sounded different. She looked to either side, and found a pair of feathery wings beside her—familiar wings. Wings she’d seen on a dead pony. The one she’d just pushed into the water. I did something. That magic—was it the blood? But if that were the case, why hadn’t it happened while she treated the male? She had more of his blood smeared all over herself. Amie crept slowly back to the water’s edge, staring back at her reflection. If she got quite close, even her eyes could focus on her reflection, distorted by the water. She saw a stranger’s face—only without the terrible damage a shotgun had caused. She was what that female would’ve looked like, if that hunter hadn’t blasted her. Do they have to be dead? There was no direct comparison for whatever she’d become. Maybe she was a sort of vampire, somehow feeding on the appearance of those who died? Until today, no one in Stella Lacus had died. Even if they had that power, they never would’ve experienced it. He’s probably freezing. She could worry about the implications later. For now, she would focus on her goals. Amie turned back, taking the stolen satchel with her. She didn’t start her fire on that riverbank, where its light would shine back to camp for miles. She found an obscuring bluff a short distance away, gathered anything dry, and set to work with the stolen flint.  It would’ve taken her minutes, if her strange new power had still been usable. But Amie’s ability to make things fly stopped working. She had to gather it all up in her mouth, or balance it on her back. Good thing she’d already been doing that for a month, or she might’ve struggled to get it done. Soon enough she had a small fire going in a circle of prepared stones. She gathered her own saddlebags, then went back for her survivor.  His eyes were open. But she didn’t have to fear his death—she could still feel him there, albeit so weak he was barely still alive. “I have a fire,” she said. “Let’s get you over there. Then we’ll try to replenish your fluids, okay?” “Gale,” he repeated, watching her. “But not. I watched you… die. You aren’t Gale. It wasn’t a dream.” She stopped, just out of reach. This alien was still in no condition to be a serious threat to her. But that didn’t mean being reckless. “It wasn’t. My name isn’t Gale, it’s Amie. What’s yours?” “Amie,” he repeated. He said it several more times, slightly different each time. She didn’t correct him. “That is a Changeling name? Amie? I thought… angrier. Teeth-biter. Flesh-destroyer. Love-stealer. Like that.” She giggled. She suppressed it quickly—he clearly didn’t share the joke. “No. Amie Blythe. My brother is Wesley Blythe. We’re not what you think. Changelings… I don’t know what that is. I’m… it’s a long story. I’ll tell you if you live through the night.” She approached him slowly, ready to spring out of reach if she felt aggression. But there was nothing. Saving his life had earned her at least a little trust. She braced against his shoulder as before, then pointed.  “Don’t put any weight on the leg closest to me. Those stitches might give, and if that happens you’re dead. Lean all of it on me, okay?” He nodded, and they made their slow way over to the fire. It was a good thing she’d built it—he felt much colder than the last time.  He collapsed as soon as they were near, dragging himself along until he was right beside it. Amie pushed him a short distance further, so he wouldn’t burn. “There. No closer, no matter how tempting. Also… here.” She removed a bottle from her satchel, then unscrewed the cap in her mouth. “Mixed this before we left.” He squinted at it, eyes narrowing. “Blue. Hive poison? That’s why you… saved me? So you could make me one of you?” She rolled her eyes, bringing it right up against his mouth. “No, it’s Powerade. You lost a lot of blood—you need water, electrolytes, iron. At last I think so—your blood was actually red. Not hemolymph like mine. Same principle, anyway, just drink it.” He turned up his nose at first, but she kept pressing, until finally he took a sip. After a few seconds, he downed the rest of it without a fight.  “So sweet. At least if you… corrupt me… it won’t taste like poison.” “Well that’s because it’s mostly sugar, unfortunately.” She glanced over her shoulder, towards the camp. “If you hadn’t just killed two of us”—and for Wes—“I’d take you back to our doctor. We have a little clinic, almost a hospital really. You’d be fine. But they might figure out what you did. Wouldn’t go well.” She removed a second canteen, unscrewing the cap. It was the last of her water, technically—but there was little reason to expect she couldn’t get more. He took it, and drank that too. “Should’ve… stayed on your mountain,” he finally said. “No one had to fight. You tried to escape… into Equestria. Only our patrol was here, but… someone had to stop you.” She spread her saddlebags onto the ground, and perched awkwardly there. It still wasn’t comfortable, but she didn’t need luxury. She just needed to catch her breath after fighting so hard all night. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “We don’t belong on this planet let alone this mountain. I’m not supposed to look like a hideous freakish monster. This Transit transformed a bunch of ordinary people into—whatever we are. It sucks, and we’d all like to go home.” She rested her head up against her knees. It was softer than she remembered—there was fur on her legs now, instead of just shiny black chitin. This was better. The mix of baby blue colors was easier to look at, too. Gale actually looked cute, even if she was a horse. He watched her from across the fire, sitting still. Mostly he felt pain, though there was an underlying layer of suspicion that didn’t dim with time. “Everypony—knows how much you lie. That’s all you know how to do. You lie, so you can feed. I didn’t forget. You’re lying right now. Gale is dead, and you’re… wearing her face.” “I wouldn’t if I knew how to stop,” she snapped back. “The face part. I haven’t lied to you once. I could’ve left you to die, and gone after my brother. He’s probably up to that city by now, on the nearby peak. I hope they’re kinder to him than you are.” He closed his eyes, settling into a resting position beside the fire. “Then why… did you save me? How does a changeling even know how? All you do is take, destroy, corrupt.” She flicked her tail back towards the camp. A dozen detailed stories flicked through her mind—all the ways she could explain why. But all of them would ultimately be incomplete. “Because it was… right,” she eventually said. “You saved me—the ones you killed, they wanted to do terrible things to me. I’d be dead when they were finished…” she trailed off, recoiling in disgust. They were things she didn’t even want to know, but unfortunately her senses did not make that possible. She knew exactly how terrible those men wanted to be. “You saved my life. If I get my way, I’ll save yours. Then we’ll see.” But he wasn’t listening anymore. The horse was quietly snoring. Amie did not sleep that night, like she didn’t sleep basically ever. As soon as she was sure her companion wouldn’t die, she refilled her water, then washed the riverbed clean. There would be no trail left behind for any future explorers to follow. She kept the shotgun close beside her until sunrise, in case Stella Lacus decided to send a second group. They didn’t. She imagined distant voices shouting more than once, but none got close. By the light of the sun, she finally got a clearer picture of her own appearance. Strange that stealing the body of another would make her look so much more human. These horses were mammals, and in every respect looked basically like other animals. Fur, gums, more familiar reproductive bits. The feathers were different, but blended naturally with her back, gradually changing back to fur as they met with well-developed back muscles. And we already know they can fly. They came down from the sky wearing metal armor. Maybe the idea of a “changeling” flying wasn’t so far-fetched either. She wasn’t sure what time it was when her companion finally woke. Not noon yet, but the sun was well on its way. “Thirsty,” he croaked. “And—maybe food too? Anything?” She gave him her canteen again, then started pumping the little mechanical filter to refill it a second time. “You still haven’t told me your name, sky-horse.”  She held up a sealed pack of granola-bars—for her brother, but Wes would forgive her. “I’m Amie. You are—” “Tailslide,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bother trying to interrogate me. I don’t—know anything valuable.” She tore open one of the bars, offering it to him. He sniffed it skeptically, then swallowed the whole thing in a pair of quick bites. “Strawberry? Changelings can eat that?” “No,” she admitted. “I’m not going to interrogate you, Tailslide. I thought about leaving you here, but… I don’t like the look of that leg. I’m not going to leave you out here to get infected and die. That means I have to take you up to that city.” “Motherlode,” he said. For the first time, he spoke without suspicion. Mostly he felt exhausted, but there was something more. The tiniest trickle of gratitude. She was wearing him down. She fed him the rest of the pack, one bar at a time, then another full canteen. She refilled it for herself, then packed all the trash and the dead soldier’s gear away in her saddlebags. “If you take me,” he began. “I could tell them what you are. They’d drive you out of town. Or maybe there are guards there already, and they’ll—attack you.” She shrugged. “Let me… there, under your leg.” “What about my armor?” She shook her head. “Look at me. You think I can carry you and thirty pounds of steel? It’s buried in a hole under that big tree there, with the whitethorn around the base? Now soldier, march.”