//------------------------------// // Chapter 15: Hooded Tick-Spider // Story: The Forest of the Golden Abalone // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// When they were back on level land, Fluttershy was forced to sit down, her body forming a pony-loaf as she tried to catch her breath. Snails stood beside her, apparently barely tired—although he was walking with an obvious limp. One he tried to hard but that indicated an injury. Perhaps an old one, or from his fall into the crevice. Or both. “You okay?” Fluttershy nodded and stood. She began to walk and noticed that outside of the darkness and in the main forest there were once again a preponderance of slugs. Snails avoided them, but did not seem as afraid as he had before—although his disgust was palpable. Fluttershy eyed the slugs, though, and nodded to a large banana slug that was lumbering past. It blinked very, very slowly. “We should get going,” she said. “Right,” agreed Snails, leading her over the rocky landscape toward a path between the trees. “We’re going to have to avoid the fire slugs. It’ll add time, but I don’t really feel like being cooked.” “Neither do I,” sighed Fluttershy. Several slugs had joined her, keeping pace with her motion. “But we need to hurry.” Snails shook his head. “I think those mech things are slower than I thought. It’ll take them a day and a half to keep up. The slugs will probably slow them down. Especially the on-fire ones.” “Crystal armor refracts magic. They’re almost indestructible.” “Huh,” said Snails, slowly. “You know an awful lot about Crystal Empire stuff.” “I do,” admitted Fluttershy. “I just can’t figure out why they don’t use that big ship. I mean, it’s just looming there. Scarily.” Snails shrugged. “No idea.” Fluttershy nodded, and fell silent, walking with Snails through the forest. Then, after a time, she spoke again. “So. You almost married Silver Spoon?” Snails immediately blushed. “Well...technically, yes. Although mostly on accident.” “How do you almost marry somepony ‘on accident’?” Snails shrugged. “I was working as an intern clerk for the mayor. I guess I wasn’t paying attention and accidentally filed a marriage certificate instead of a request for inquest form.” He sighed. “Then we were in a play for Summer Sun. Who knew Pinkie Pie was an ordained minister?” He chuckled. “If it hadn’t been for that banana, we’d be married right now…” Fluttershy smiled, and stopped walking. Snails did, confused. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not so good at telling stories.” “No, no. It was a great story. And it’s slightly disturbing you knew Pinkie’s ordained. But I’m not stupid.” Snails frowned, slowly. “Am...I?” “No. But probably arrogant. Sorry. I know we’re not friends but I’m trying to give constructive criticism. It’s really hard and I’m doing my best.” Snails seemed hurt. “We’re...not friends?” Fluttershy smiled and shook her head. “See, I’m not as good as Snails, obviously. I can’t tell at a distance. But you all have that smell. I’ve taught hundreds of changelings how to be friends. I’ve learned to recognize it.” Snails seemed confused, but then grinned widely, pointed teeth clearly apparent. “Well,” he said, his voice still Snails’s but oddly erudite. “Look who thinks she’s a clever little girl.” “You made it kind of obvious. We’re headed the wrong way. The banana slug told me so.” Snails's visiual idenity faded—and the changeling beneath collapsed the mask she wore. Instead, Fluttershy now found herself facing a copy of herself. Although one that looked altogether more angry. And slightly taller. “You ought to have run when you had the chance.” Fluttershy shrugged. “I wouldn’t have gotten all that far. You can fly. I can’t right now.” That was an excuse, obviously. This changeling was not quite Thoraxian, but was likewise Chrysalisian either. Fluttershy was not aware of any rival hives in existence, so this one must have been rogue—and she was far more talkative than most. “What do you want?” she asked, politely. “Please? Why are you trying to hurt the Golden Abalone?” She rolled her eyes. “Because I was asked to be, you fat twit. Beyond that, Celestia’s poots if I know.” “Asked? By whom?” “It doesn’t especially matter. Not to you. Not a name you’d recognize.” She sighed. “We were supposed to be retired. On a nice, warm island. I’m the only one he had left. Which is sad. You don’t make too many friends in this business if you stay in long enough.” “You mean Tuo?” She grimaced. “You think I’d really be interested in Wun’s mutant kid? Just because I’m a changeling, do you think I rob cradles as a habit?” Fluttershy blinked. “Don't you?” “Who knew an Element of Harmony was a racist,” she snapped. “No. I don’t. That thing isn’t even a pony. And the other one? She reeks of teenage angst.” Her smile grew, revealing fangs that she did not know matched the ones that lay deep in Fluttershy’s own mouth. “Not like you. Not at all.” “I don’t want to fight you. What you’re doing is wrong. But I don’t think you’re a bad pony.” She laughed, and slowly began to circle Fluttershy. “I’m not a pony at all.” “You know what I meant.” She laughed. “The traps you set? They’re gone now. I took down most of them. And Lady Fear is going to step in the rest. She really hates you. I don’t know why. But I'm curious as to the reason.” Fluttershy frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know anypony with that name.” Her copy shrugged. “Fine. Not my primary objective.” She pointed. “You, though. You obviously can’t fight me. You’re soft and squishy. If I slapped you, you’d probably fall over crying.” “True,” admitted Fluttershy. The copy spread her long, beautiful wings. Longer and silkier than Fluttershy’s own. “And I can fly...and use magic...huh. So I guess you can’t run, either?” “No.” “Then what do you intend to do?” “Talk to you. Maybe we could be friends.” The changeling stopped. “You seriously want to get out of this with the ‘power of friendship’?” “Kindness, specifically. I think I’m giving you a lot of leeway for being so mean to me.” “I have not yet even begun to mean.” Fluttershy smiled. “Well, it’s obvious you care very deeply for whoever it is asked you to come along. And if looking for the Abalone, I think it means he’s sick.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do I look like I care if you know that? You’re Twilight’s doormat. You can’t stop me.” “I can ask you politely.” The changeling seemed confused—then annoyed. “Please?” A fanged smile grew on the changeling’s face. “No. I’m going to capture you. Then your friend will come to get you, and we’ll trap him. Then it’s a standard in-and-out. No Daring Do to interfere this time.” Fluttershy smiled. “Daring Do? Then that means you must be working for Ahuizotl or Caballeron. Since Ahuizotl’s a politician now, I guess I know who needs that medicine.” Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?” “Because the first book was so scary it traumatized me. It’s burned into my memory and I still have nightmares. At least when I don’t dream about...the pot…” She shivered. A moment of rage crossed her copy’s face. “You’re even more annoying than the blue one. But see, I have the advantage here.” “What would that be, then?” “Telepathy.” Her form shifted. She elongated, stretching into a form that dwarfed Fluttershy—but a form she recognized well. Fluttershy’s pleasant, kind smile faded instantly. “Oh,” said the changeling, perfectly mimicking Discord’s voice without ever having met him while she admired his assymetrical paws. “Is this thing what you love? What are you, some kind of pervert?” “Don’t take that form,” said Fluttershy, harshly. “Not him.” She stuck out Discord’s tongue. “Oh? Did I hit a nerve? What is it? Lover’s quarrel?” She slithered closer, floating as she did so. “I can taste it, you know. How sweet and pure your love is. Like the lightest, airiest cotton candy. So wholesome. Did you ever even manage to tell him without blushing yourself into unconsciousness?” “I’m warning you,” snapped Fluttershy, looking at the ground to avoid looking at the parody of Discord. “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.” “Oh, my! Fluttershy, are you threatening me with—violence?” She laughed. “But what could you even do? Patter me with your little marshmallow hooves? No wonder he never loved you. You’re so small and weak, how could a literal GOD ever even care for—” Fluttershy looked up—and the scream caught in the changeling’s throat. She dropped to the ground, confused—but fully aware of what was happening to her. Breaking her concentration, her form collapsed, revealing a large striped changeling female. “What are you—why are you—why does—what is this? WHAT IS THIS?!” Fluttershy did not speak. She only continued to stare—and took a step forward. The changeling cried out. “Wait, wait—stop! STOP! Stop staring at me! I can’t—I’m naked! I don’t have a form on—” “Say you’re sorry.” “I’m not though—ACK! My soul! It hurts! Stop LOOKING AT ME!” “NO.” The changeling quivered, unable to flee but unable to fight back—because she could not break the Stare. And Fluttershy could stare in complete silence all day if she needed to. Her only recourse, called for by the desperation of the situation—a stare that could stop even the Lord of Chaos in his tracks. “I’m sorry!” pleaded the changeling, now crying. “I’m sorry, alright! I shouldn’t have been mean! You’re clearly sensitive!” Fluttershy blinked, and the changeling collapsed into a chitinous heap. The heap procceeded to quiver. Fluttershy took a step forward, wondering if she might need a hug—but as she did, a head shot up, held aloft by a neck that in any other species might have looked eligent. In a changeling, though, she just looked disturbing. “You do realize that now I’m going to have to eat you.” Fluttershy sighed. “Well, I do taste delicious…” The changeling shifted, her form growing substantially in both size and mass. Fluttershy felt the vibrations of eight massive legs that landed hard on the ground, holding aloft a bloated body striped in yellow and black. She looked up into a face filled with fangs and dripping venom—and eight teal eyes staring back at her. Fluttershy sighed. “Really? I giant orb weaver? Spiders are the least scary arachnid. They’re just like mice, but with more legs to give hugs.” The spider form seemed to smile—and shifted again. But not by much. The legs grew bulkier, thicker, and more angular—and the face disintegrated, folding back as the eyes vanished, replaced by a hood of flesh. A fine fuzz broke out over her red-brown body. Fluttershy sighed again. She regretted her big mouth. “Ricinulei. That’s...a much better choice.” “Just wait until you hear the voice I gave it,” she said—speaking in the high voice of a young foal with a Trottingham accent. “The audio adds to it, I think.” Fluttershy nodded, and looked under herself, finding the ground to be quite a bit damper than she would have expected. Then she lifted her head, took a deep breath, and began sprinting away, screaming and crying in fear.