It was one of the more calm days within the throne room of the Foal Mountain Hive. At the center of a vaguely egg shaped chamber with walls of bluish grey sedimentary stone, Queen Chrysalis sat, perched atop a jagged backed throne crafted of a smooth dark green resin. Before her stood the leader of the hives workers, Termite, who was currently reporting on the progress they’ve made excavating the lower most passageways of the thestral tombs.
“The trouble hasn’t been removing all of the debris, my queen, it’s the poor ventilation,” Termite explained. “And even with a chain of workers using their wings to circulate fresh air from the closest exit tunnel, it’s been tough.”
“Would bringing down vegetation help?” Chrysalis asked. “Some moss and lichen.”
“It would,” said the worker, “but I’ve already checked with the greenkeeper and he won’t have an adequate amount of mature plants for weeks. That's why I wanted to propose an alternate solution, with your permission.”
“Of course,” the queen motioned to the changeling with a hoof signaling her to continue.
“I believe we are very close to the thestral complex’s original entrance,” said Termite, “and I’d like to try and find it.”
“So you can work your way in, instead of out,” Chrysalis surmised.
“Yes your highness,” answered Termite with a bobbing nod of her head, “and my calculations place the entrance location to be along our mountain’s northeastern slope.”
“That would make sense,” the queen said, placing her front hooves together before her muzzle. “Hollow Shades is in that direction.”
“Well, yes,” admitted the worker, “but the entrance shouldn’t be low enough to fall within their forest.”
“How long do you expect the search to take?” the queen asked after a pause.
“I’d hope no more than a few days,” said Termite, then adding, “with the assistance of a few scouts.”
“We’ve already riled up the bat ponies with our occasional raiding of their fruit groves, but it would be a great boon to have the entire complex habitable,” Chrysalis said to herself before addressing Odonate who stood silently to the right of her throne. “Have the thestrals eased up on their latest patrols?”
Clearing his throat, the scarred changeling turned to face the queen.
“Yes your highness,” Odonate said in his gravelly tone, “both their day and night patrols have grown noticeably relaxed over the past few weeks with the worst of the two being the day patrol.”
“What’s the distance betwixt the nearest grove and northeastern side of the mountain?” inquired Chrysalis; “and how far out do the thestrals usually venture?”
“There’s a sizable distance of thickly wooded area in-between them,” said Odonate, “and the scouts have only witnessed a hoof-full of occasions over the seasons where the thestrals, patrolling or otherwise, have left the borders of their forest.”
The room became silent as Chrysalis digested the information. That made the buzzing sound from an approaching changeling’s wings all the more noticeable and so all eyes had turned to the cavern’s main entrance when Phasmid came into view. The young guard halted in midair at suddenly being the center of attention and quickly landed off to the side.
“Are there any scouts you’d recommend for accompanying Termite on her venture?” the queen asked Odonate.
“Aphid and Tsetse,” the guard said without pause; “and I’d suggest a guard as backup, Vespid or Entypus.
“Very well,” said Chrysalis, turning to address the worker, “Termite, you may take a small team to search for the entrance, but only that. No digging is to be performed until I deem so. I want to make sure the work can be done without attracting attention. Once that’s done we’ll re-evaluate the situation.”
“Yes my queen,” Termite said with a respectful bow before trotting away from the throne.
“Is that all for today, did everyling who needed to share information with me have their opportunity?” the matron questioned Mosquito who had been patiently standing to the left of her throne.
“I believe so my queen,” the attendant said after checking a piece of parchment that she levitated in front of her.
“Ah, good,” said Chrysalis, standing to her full height and stretching her legs.
“Excuse me your highness,” Phasmid called out, trotting up to the throne and bowing, “but I have some news.”
“Is there something wrong?” asked the queen as she hovered down to the floor.
“Nothing’s wrong, the princess just requests your company,” the younger guard informed her, “She has almost finished her molt.”
While Katydid had said that the hardest part of her molt, the freeing of her head and neck, was out of the way, Pupa began to second guess what the caretaker considered hard. A burning sensation coursed through her muscles, leaving her feeling as if she just ran a marathon. Semitransparent segments of old cuticle hung in tatters off the side of her barrel like the ragged bandages of an ancient mummy; and the mixture of sweat and ecdysone that covered the freshly exposed sections of her carapace caused her fine peach fuzz like fur to cling against her body. The entire process left her feeling sticky and gross.
In an effort to settle herself, the nymph deeply inhaled a lung full of air and held it for several seconds before releasing it. This unintentionally triggered the remaining fragments of dead carapace covering her belly to slough off and she winced at the faint wet peeling sound it created. Lowering her head to inspect that area of her anatomy, Pupa observed as the newly cast off bit of cuticle swayed, like a morbid hammock, still attached to the upper portions of her legs. At least she could happily note that only her front and hind limbs, along with some fragments around her scalp and dock, remained to be molted.
Switching her attention to her front legs, Pupa lifted the left one upward and watched as the old layer of carapace peeled down over itself like she was removing a wet stocking. When it reached one of the holes that populated her limbs, it became stuck and she had to tug her leg a few times to rip the obstructing section so she could continue. After pulling her hoof free and leaving the shed carapace to drop to the floor, Pupa stretched the tingling appendage, working the stiffness out from the joints. Then by placing her left hoof firmly down on the molted scrap for better leverage, the nymph repeated the procedure on her remaining legs.
With her molt finally complete, a relieving shiver ran down Pupa’s spine causing the little changeling to close her eyes and let loose a long satisfied sigh. Flashing an accomplished smile across her muzzle, she tossed her lengthy mane from her face, rapidly buzzed her wings and then began to prance around in a celebratory circle.
Chrysalis remained at the nursery entrance and simply watched Pupa with contentment, smirking in amusement at her daughter’s revelry. Though when the nymph opened her eyes and spotted that not only her mother was now present but also Mosquito and Odonate, the queen couldn’t help but chuckle at her surprised and slightly embarrassed expression.
“See, that wasn’t too bad now was it?” Chrysalis said as she walked up to her daughter.
“I’m kind of tired…” the nymph began to say but then her voice trailed off.
Tilting her head slightly, Pupa appeared to be studying the queen curiously from head to hoof.
“Something the matter?” asked Chrysalis, quirking her own head back at the nymph.
“Am, am I taller?” asked the little changeling as she stared up at her mother in wonder.
“Of course,” the queen answered the now knee high nymph. “I did tell you that you were outgrowing your old carapace.”
“I know,” said Pupa enthusiastically while using a hoof to measure her height in comparison to the queen. “I just didn’t think it would be so much!”
Smiling, Chrysalis placed a hoof atop her daughter’s head and tousled her mane. This inadvertently dislodged specks of left over dead carapace still in the nymph’s scalp.
“Looks like you missed a little,” mused the queen. “Now, after you’ve eaten your molt we’ll get you into a bath to take care of the rest.”
“What?” blinked the nymph, a confused look on her face.
“A bath, to remove the leftover bits of dead carapace,” Chrysalis said.
“No, what you said before that,” clarified Pupa, “about eating my molt?”
“Well yes,” the queen said, “you’ve used up a lot of energy and eating your old carapace will help replace it.”
“Do I have to?” asked the nymph after glancing down thoughtfully at her shed cuticle for a moment.
“It would be wasteful not to,” Chrysalis said, shifting her weight and frowning slightly in disapproval.