//------------------------------//
// Chapter 22 
// Story: Don't Bug Me 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

They were still in the warehouse. Amie had the keys now, left by the hunter from another changeling tribe. This building was apparently a supply-dump for others like him, but she didn't know too many details. She knew almost nothing about the other changelings, because he hadn't stayed to tell them. 

Only what she could pick up from the subtle signs he radiated, and the tidbits he had shared. When he left, it was with a single instruction. "Wait until after dark before you leave. Anyone who watched to see your brother arrive here will have moved on by then. Use the cover of darkness to find shelter." 

What shelter that would take, Amie didn't know. For all the new information she'd received, Amie couldn't assemble any of it into a useful plan. "They think we're stuck here," Wes said, settling down against an empty box. "They could be right, Amie. They stayed. If they could go, wouldn't they?"

Amie would have, along with everyone in Stella Lacus. "Maybe they just never tried talking to Equestria directly," she said. "We don't know it's impossible. What we learned here was that there are more like us—other humans, brought here before." 

"If we can get them trading food with Stella Lacus, you won't have to worry about your friends anymore, right? Maybe that will keep the camp from starving long enough to work something out with the Equestrian princess."

She nodded absently. She hadn't felt hostility or betrayal from Pachu'a. But she knew better than to think her own instincts could be proof of his honesty. Was I wrong to tell him about camp? He already knew we were here, something about a vision from his Elders. Another kind of magic we don't know?

"I think we... don't change our original plan," Amie finally said. "Maybe Pachu'a was telling the truth—maybe we're stuck, and there's no way to ever go home. Maybe we have to build something here in Equestria. But if that's true, it won't be the two of us building it. Stella Lacus won't let us come back. The best we can do for them now is to be eyes on the outside—sending back information, and maybe negotiating with Equestria if it seems like they'll listen."

Wes nudged her foreleg. "Which means we still need a job. We still need somewhere to hide. Somehow I have to figure out how to... do something impossible. Just magically change into something else! How hard can that be?"

Easy enough that experienced hunters don't even have to be ponies. Further proof that a return to her human form should be possible, if she pushed hard enough. But then again, if the local changelings had come from Earth, why hadn't Pachu'a made himself human? Showing her true face as a changeling was clearly an important step in negotiations for him.

"You want me to coach you through it again?"

Wes shook his head again, frustrated. "Why don't you just sneak out on your own? I'll put some of these old coats together, try to hide how hideous I am. You can come back here and get me once you have somewhere for us to go." 

He hesitated, then touched his stomach with one leg. "And maybe—something to eat?"

She nodded. Separating would mean risk, but how could she work out a job for herself if everyone they met was terrified of Wes? "Sure, that's a good idea. I'll leave my stuff here." She set the saddlebag down over a rough wooden crate, then lifted the shotgun out from inside. "Keep this handy. If you have to defend yourself, use it."

Wes rolled his eyes. "From ponies? I don't think I'll need it. They all hate me."

She hugged him. "They hate me too, Wes. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

He returned the hug, clinging awkwardly to her. "I know. But that doesn't make it hurt less." She held him for a few moments more, one last bastion against a hateful world outside. 

"We might not have to hide forever," she eventually said. "Pachu'a comes from another civilization. Even if we are stuck, we might be able to live with our own kind one day. Others who won't think we're horrible monsters."

Wes sniffed, then let go. His pain hurt her in return, but it also provided a strange nutrition of its own. His faith and reliance on her was complete. It was the same faith he radiated in the moment she volunteered herself for death, only—less dramatic.

"Go find somewhere we can hide," he finally said. "We don't just have to keep hidden from the ponies now. There's another tribe of changelings that might want to take advantage. The—"

"Blue," she said. "The one with a queen. Do you think while you're here, you could write down anything useful you remember? Pachu'a said so many little things that are probably important, and I don't want to miss any." 

"Sure." His horn flickered, and he managed to lift a pencil out from one side. "I'll... write it down. Something to keep me busy. What about you, though? Can't go out like that."

Amie had already been considering what she should look like. The unicorn form she'd taken twice did seem like a good option, but that was only a matter of repetition. What if someone had seen her walking with Wes? Was Agate small enough for word like that to spread? Even thinking that made her recoil with shame—it was the ponies who were wrong for fearing Wes, not her. Why should she bow to conform to their expectations?

She closed her eyes, and opened them again as the little unicorn nurse. If anyone had seen her, if anyone was afraid because of Wes—that was their problem, not hers. "I'll be back as quick as I can, promise."

Before she could second-guess herself, Amie slipped out the door, and out into the late-afternoon streets of Agate. Technically they weren't following Pachu'a's instructions, but it was close enough to nightfall anyway. Wes wouldn't be leaving with her, so it wasn't like she needed to keep hiding.

Amie attracted a few glances as she emerged from the old building, but nothing like the fear Wes had produced. Unlike Pachu'a, the ponies radiated their emotions so powerfully that she couldn't ignore them. 

Most didn't even see her, and those that did felt a range of what she expected. Some curiosity, others worry for someone like her in a rougher part of town—and a few that stared at her adopted body, probably imagining things that would make her sick if she could see them.

Now, a hospital. That shouldn't be too hard. Indeed, a few minutes of walking to get back into the center of town, then all she had to do was find someone to ask. Everyone knew where to find the hospital. As she got close, she found a building more familiar in its construction than most. Blocky and white, with a red cross outside—how could that symbol exist in this world?

Unfortunately for her, it took nearly as little time to be rejected. The hospital wasn't nearly as desperate as the small-town clinic in Motherlode had been—they wanted pesky things like a “resume” and “references.” The suggestion that she could start sweeping floors if they didn't need any EMTs only got her strange looks.

"You have a medical cutie mark, not a custodial mark. Come back when you have the right paperwork."

So much for thinking that Equestria was so old-fashioned it wouldn't do things like check her ID.

Amie left the hospital behind without pushing too hard, quietly cursing Pachu'a in her mind. If only that bug had stuck around long enough to tell her about the society she was supposed to be “hunting” in, maybe she could find a better way to hide. 

The reminders of danger were ever-present. More than once, she saw a pair of royal guards on patrol, walking briskly down the road. They wore only clubs, and seemed friendly with the locals—but all she had to do was reveal what she really looked like, and those horses would murder her with as little thought as Tailslide had killed Garcia. 

She considered other solutions to get her hands on some money—stealing when she could levitate didn't seem too hard, except that would make her into a blight on society, one unlikely to elicit much compassion in any eventual plea with their princess.

Whatever Amie did, it had to pay well enough to feed Wes, and give them somewhere to hide. They couldn't keep living in a dingy warehouse without attracting unwanted attention.

She thought about heading to the high-walled royal guard base on the opposite end of Agate and applying there—being a scout couldn't be that different from being a soldier. But even if they took her, that would do nothing to provide for Wes.

She inquired with a few little shops around town, asking if any were hiring. Each answered in the negative. It was the same story all around town—the nearby mines were producing less and less. That meant fewer miners, and fewer customers. It meant anywhere that was actually hiring would give her the same problem the hospital did—she didn't legally exist, or have any references to point to. She didn't know the world well enough to produce a convincing forgery.

All the while she imagined Mr. Albrecht watching her from behind his tall desk, wearing one of those stupid cardigan sweaters of his. He would click his tongue, and repeat what he said in that last message. She had abandoned Stella Lacus to its fate. She should be helping her students survive, not be living out here on her own.

Amie kept walking long enough that she nearly reached the edge of town. The streetlights came on, actual gas lamps lit by actual lamp-lighters with tall poles to reach up and light each one. Under the fading sunlight, she found herself in the dingiest, poorest part of Agate yet.

Here half the buildings looked abandoned, with dark, boarded-up windows. The ponies here were a little leaner than the rest, looked a little more nervous as they walked. 

There was only one exception, a brightly lit multi-story affair at the end of the lane. Even this building was falling into ill-repair, with hasty additions atop and on the sides, some leaning so precariously that she doubted their structural soundness. The sign was something so absurd that Amie didn't even know what she was looking at. What the hell was a “rent a friend?”

What little traffic there was in this part of town did seem to be visiting it. And there at the bottom, another smaller sign. "Want to be a friend? Inquire within!"

Amie's stomach turned as she considered what kind of “friend” exactly might be rented here. But if something that slimy was going on inside the building, why couldn't she feel it? When ponies stared at her, or when Tailslide even thought she was pretty, Amie felt it. She should be swimming in an overflowing flood of sickening feelings. She felt almost nothing of it from the building, at least no more than she felt from anywhere else in town.

Maybe Amie wasn't meant to be a nurse after all. Maybe the job she really needed was a professional friend. 

She marched up to the building, wearing the friendliest smile she could muster. As she drew closer, she got little glimpses inside—the interiors were well-furnished, much nicer than she would've expected from such a run-down building. There were libraries inside, fountains and galleries and even a little stage. This wasn't a brothel at all... it was a theater! Closer to the latter than the former, anyway.

The lobby was a private affair of many little alcoves and quiet music playing on what sounded like a scratchy record. Most of the sitting room was packed with customers—but not the sleazy older stallions she imagined wanted escorts. What the hell is this place?

Finally she worked her way to the front desk. A young earth pony sat behind it, with a cigarette smoking away on an ashtray between them. She looked up at Amie, then rolled her eyes. "We can't take new clients right now," she said, gesturing at the full room with a hoof. "Come back in a few months."

Amie shook her head, pointing back the way she'd come with one leg. "I'm not a customer. I'd like to file an application."

The mare lifted her cigarette, somehow managing to balance it on a hoof without dropping it. She puffed right into Amie's face. "Really? If you say so." She gestured at a narrow doorway on the opposite wall, so flush with the wood Amie hadn't noticed it. "Boss is up there. Guess you're free to try and impress him. Celestia knows we need the talent." Her eyes lingered on Amie's cutie mark as she said it, doubt radiating from her thicker than secondhand smoke. "If you're up for it."

"Guess we'll find out!" Amie forced a smile, just as she'd done with many a rebellious young camper. She could do this. How hard could it be to be a friend?