There it was again.
That terrible ringing sound.
It wasn’t the same ringing that woke him up every morning. Instead, it was something much worse. He could feel the ringing bouncing back between his ears, his head pounding harder than a thousand drums as a hard wooden floor pushed into his cheeks. He could feel his breath, ragged and harsh, his throat fighting against a rope tied around.
His eyes slowly opened. The world was blurry, a spectacle of bright lights blinding him. But, from his incapacitated position, he could still faintly make out the iron bars surrounding him. Surrounding the chariot he found himself in. Surrounding his jail cell.
With a groan, he fought to put his hooves underneath him. They felt weaker than he had ever felt them be before, shaking and sore, yet he managed to get himself into a sitting position. A thin line of blood pooled from the corner of his mouth, dripping down onto the wooden cart below.
He blinked one last time, and found the crowd.
Ponies. Perhaps the entire town, all staring up at him. Shocked expressions, mouths open wide, and parents holding their foals close. It was his worst nightmare. If his breathing wasn’t ragged before, now it was accelerated.
“We finally got one!” He heard a guard pulling the cart said. “We’re sure to get promotions this time!”
“I’ll be damned…” The other responded. “Your hunch was right for a change. Isn’t that something?”
He stared down at ponies he recognized. There was his employer, Filthy Rich, his face similarly in a state of shock as he looked at the Changeling.
“S-Staples? W-When did y-you?” He asked, following the cart. “W-Where did you put the real Staples? Is h-he alright?”
All the Changeling could do was offer a bloody smile back. Filthy Rich stopped following the cart, a revolted expression on his face as he faded back into the crowd.
“Where are you taking him?” Another pony asked, one he faintly recognized as one of the Pegasus twins.
“To death, I would think.” A second pony answered her, once again from the crowd. “Once it tells the guards where the real Staples is, I think they’d put him in the chopping block. Nasty creatures, Changelings are.”
The Changeling’s lower lip quivered. A tear, falling loosely from his eye as he stared indeterminately into the sky. He still couldn’t help but have a smile cross his features.
“Well…” He whispered. “I made it this far… End of the line…” He looked down.
And then he saw her.
The filly.
The one that started it all. That started his downfall.
She was standing in the crowd, almost completely blending in with the other, taller ponies. Her face was one of complete shock, her eyes glistening behind her glasses, her lip quivering. He smiled yet again.
“I’ll be okay.” He said. “I always make it out.”
The filly had a tear slip out of her eye. Then, without even saying goodbye, she turned around and dashed away, gone forever.
He laid back down on the cart, and closed his eyes.
Nothing else he could do now but wait until the chopping block.
“Hey, knuckleheads!”