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// 12. | I know I'm Not Forgiven but I Hope That I'll be Given... 
// Story: Crystals & Chitin 
// by Nytus 
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"Excuse me, Miss Fluttershy?" I apologized as the door slowly swung open. It was just wide enough to glimpse the head and one shoulder of the home's occupant. "I'm sorry to bother you. Zecora sent me to see you. She thought you might be willing to help me."

The buttery mare I addressed was just as timid as I was told she'd be, hiding behind her hair like a young filly, but more was going on in her emotional state than I expected.

Curiosity. With an opening line like mine, why wouldn't she be? Concern. No surprise, there is a stranger at her door after all. Compassion. That's promising. The zebra's name must carry a lot of weight for her to offer sympathy before opening her mouth or hearing my name.

"Oh, um... of course. I don't know what she thinks I might be able to help you with, but if Zecora suggests it, I will be happy to do what I can. Please, come in. My friends and I were just having some tea."

She stepped to the side and fully opened the door, inviting me inside with a wave of her hoof. Her cottage was full of animals, ranging from rabbits and snakes to wolves and bears. They were all gathered around a blanket set out on the floor, and, oddly enough, those with grasping appendages were sipping tea from porcelain cups.

I hesitated a moment, taken aback by the scene before me. I had been told this pony's cutiemark allowed her to speak with lesser animals, but I didn't realize that meant she preferred their company. Zecora's assurance that none would be more accepting of me than Fluttershy made significantly more sense now. Among all the ponies alive, she could be trusted with my secrets.

Fluttershy happily resumed her place among the various critters and indicated a spot for me to join them; all the while, a pair of birds were busy carrying a napkin and spoon toward me from the kitchen, and the bear was reaching for the small steaming pot in the center of the blanket. 

The rabbit, however, stared me down like he knew who I was.

"I hope you like it. Angel Bunny makes a wonderful cup of tea, Mister... Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Well, that's actually a central theme surrounding my problem. To properly introduce myself may be alarming. May I use magic without frightening you or your animal friends?"

Her facial expression changed immediately, and her emotional state added wariness to the mixture swirling inside her head, but her curiosity was also spiking.

"Oh, um. Is it really that bad? How can your name be surprising?"

I hung my head slightly as I nodded. "Well, my name isn't so much the surprising part," I said as I got to my hooves. "Please don't panic; I mean you no harm."

With a slow release of my sustained magic, the once-comforting green flame washed over my body and erased my disguise, one limb at a time, as though I were stepping out of an elaborate costume.

Predictably, Fluttershy let out a started 'eep' and dove for cover behind the bear, who did not precisely look pleased but was more concerned with the mare shivering behind him than he was with me. The birds scattered, but strangely the rabbit continued to stare daggers at me, unmoving.

As the last wisps of transformative magic evaporated from my now-glossy carapace, I again hung my head. "Please, let me explain. My name is Carina, and as you can see, I am a changeling. I know you've recently been attacked by a changeling hive, but I swear I am not one of them. That queen is insane or, at least, supremely desperate to have risked the safety of her hive like that... and I think... I think she destroyed mine. My hive... my queen. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

I didn't realize putting the events of the past few months into words would choke me up so badly. I am an infiltrator; I have been trained to be the master of my emotions, both genuine and feigned. Exposing weakness like this was unacceptable. 

I turned toward the door and lifted a hole-ridden hoof, preparing to leave. I had to get away.

Except I couldn't.

An overwhelming wave of compassion assaulted me almost as physically as the yellow pony who was suddenly hugging me.

I was told she was timid, fearful, and unsure of herself by all accounts. Still, she made herself physically vulnerable and fed me more sympathy than even Zecora after only the briefest introduction.

To embrace an exposed changeling... there was a time I would call that reckless and take advantage of her. Today, I would call her one of the bravest ponies I've ever met. 

"Oh, you poor thing. I'm so sorry. My friend Twilight told us about changelings after the wedding. It must have been so difficult for you when you lost your family like that." 

I was at a loss. My hive was less critical of ponies than Chrysalis' brood, but in my wildest dreams, I'd have never put a single bit on a member of our primary food source embracing one of us in our natural form. 

As an aside: Of course, seeing what they became years later, perhaps I held too strong an opinion of them, but I will never understand the 'reformed' hive's choice of pastel colors, and I will never follow their lead. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate their choice to embrace friendship, but my queen never caused us any racial guilt. One can change their outlook on life without such drastic measures. I mean, how much self-loathing do you have to have to abandon your own body?

"Thank you." It was an inadequate response, but it was all I could manage at that moment.

Once I had composed myself, I joined her indoor critter picnic and spent several hours bearing my soul and getting to know her. She criticized several of my decisions as I shared the past few months' events, but that's not unexpected from a pony's point of view.

"...and that's when I came to see you," I finally said. "Zecora seems to think you'd happily submit yourself to feeding me. Rediculous."

She tapped her muzzle with her hoof for a moment before responding. "I think Zecora might be right," she said, much to my surprise. "I think I can help you!"

Fluttershy must have seen the incredulity on my face because she quickly added, "oh, not about the feeding thing, but I think you may have misunderstood her intentions. I can help you by letting you help yourself. How would you like a job, Miss Carina?"

I spent the next few days following that optimistic little pony around her cottage and surrounds, learning the names of all her critter friends and what they preferred to eat. She also taught me how to understand simple animal body language. I couldn't communicate with them the way she did, but at least I'd be unlikely to provoke a hostile response from them.

At her suggestion, I wore a new pony disguise. Fluttershy thought it would be best not to frighten the ponies of the nearby village. Many were somewhat xenophobic, and the attack on their capital city by Chrysalis' hive was still fresh in their minds.

She wanted to reveal my identity to her friends, the other Elements of Harmony, but I asked her not to. I had started to believe the stories Zecora told me about her kindness, but asking me to expose myself to somepony else was entirely different. Thankfully, she understood my reticence and allowed me to decide if and when I did so.

Animals, as it turns out, show affection very quickly once their fear of you wanes. My new job may have saved my life—in more than one way. I fed off the simple emotions directed toward me as I made my rounds feeding Fluttershy's little friends. Still, the most significant sustenance came in the evenings, when I would join the buttery mare for dinner, discuss the day's events, and share stories.

I would tell her about my hive and life in a world before alicorns. She would fill me in on world history from the past thousand years. 

Initially, I viewed these sessions as vital reconnaissance for survival, feeding her obsolete and useless trivia in exchange for information I would need to establish new disguises.

In hindsight, it should have been no surprise that I was simultaneously learning something even more significant. 

I assumed that my strength was returning to me because of the animals. Fluttershy told me that befriending her critters would sustain me, but the gratitude and compassion she provided was the more filling offering and required no effort to draw out of her. A phrase she repeated on occasion gradually started to make more sense: friendship is magic.

Friend, I thought to myself one night after saying goodbye to my pony benefactor. Are we friends?

It was possible. I certainly formed an attachment to Double Time that was uncharacteristic of a changeling, but I never really thought of her as a friend per se. How was Fluttershy different?

Lies, I realized. Fluttershy knew what I was within minutes of meeting me and accepted me despite that knowledge. Conversely, I lied to Miss Time for months before she found out in one of the most traumatic ways possible.

The following morning, instead of heading to Fluttershy's cottage, I wore my new disguise and made my way into town. It wasn't technically the first time I had been to Ponyville, but the only other time had been our arrival on the train, and the flight from our hiding place left little opportunity to get to know the area.

I wore the face of a fictitious silver unicorn stallion with a blue mane and tail that I named Locke Tumbler. Ponies rarely secured their doors, so claiming to have a locksmithing cutiemark would be a conversation starter that would likely not require further demonstration.

The village was quaint and exactly what I'd come to envision a modern pony town to look like. Peaceful. Quiet. It seemed like nothing exciting ever happened, nor would it.

I wandered the main roads for nearly an hour before finding the building I was looking for. Above the door hung a sign with a couch and a quill on it. A strange combination of goods to sell from the same place, but perhaps neither product was popular enough to pay the bills alone.

"Excuse me," I began as a cheerful-looking salespony approached me. "I am looking for some stationary. I need to write a letter to an old friend."

After paying for my purchase and asking for directions to the nearest post office, I sat at an outdoor cafe table, ordered a daffodil sandwich, and began writing.

"Dear Warden..."