//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: Without a Trace // by Kelvin Shadewing //------------------------------// Chapter 7 Trace never stopped moving, except to drink or find a safe place to rest for the night. His energy crystal would last him a few more days if he used it sparingly, but eventually, he would need to find a new food source. He couldn't return to the nest he raided now that the ponies had siezed the empathite inside. The dumb equines would probably just make jewlery out of it. His options were few at best. Changelings may have gone as little more than a neussance, had it not been for the queen attacking Canterlot. If not for her, maybe he could try and convince somepony he was on their side, if only for food. But how would he do that in the first place? Diplomacy was new to him; his whole life he knew only fighting and killing. Kill, and return home for food. It dawned on him that he was never meant to survive on his own; even with successfully evading and killing Chrysalis' troops, he could not blend in as a pony, and he could not reveal himself to anyone. A new way to interact with the populace would need to be invented. He didn't know anything of Equestrian culture, so he had no idea how they would accept someone who was perpetually invisible. He hadn't been trained to lie, only to stay silent at all costs when needed. It was impossible to plan for. Trace would just have to improvise and make sure above all that he was never seen. The changeling eventually came to a dark forest shrouded in mist and foreboding atmosphere. A place like this would be good for a fall back, and as well, he could drop his cloak here and conserve some energy. If he encountered anyone, he would simply vanish; no one could sneak up on him anyway. But there was something else about this forest, something unnatural. The very air here was different. It lacked magic, and held a different charge; something closer to electricity. The air was also hot, damp and sticky, like the breath of a dragon lingering around, but carried the scent of muck and mildew instead of sulfur and cooked meat. The very earth beneath his hooves was moist and squishy, and low-hanging vines had stalagtites of loose moss while some trees were barren and black. The whole place resembled a giant maw waiting to devour anyone foolish enough to enter. What made this place so enticing to Trace, though, was the silence. Graveyards were louder than this place, and brighter and more cheerful to boot. The green glow of his empathite shard made the place look even more gloomy. It was as though the grim reaper himself had cultivated this forest. The changeling loved it. Still, food would need to be found. He silently cursed the design of nature for making it impossible for him to be self-sufficient. Somepony would have to be found, and then he would need to find some way to earn their trust. For the time being, Trace had no reason to exert himself. He would seek shelter, make his new home, and then search for food. After some searching, Trace found a large tree with a hollow space under its open roots. Grabbing some moss and vines from around the trees, he sealed up the openings, except for the largest one which he made into a door using a moss curtain. He crawled in and set his crystal down, curling up on the soft earth. Trace wanted to sleep early so he would have plenty of time to locate a pony settlement. After careful observation, he would be able to devise a way to survive amongst them. His eyes slowly fluttered before finally sliding shut as sleep took hold. The sun rose high over the everfree forest. Trace awoke to the few rays of sunlight that filtered down through the trees and struck the mossy covering, casting a soft glow over the still balled up changeling. Trace stood up and stretched his legs and neck, making his joints pop into place. He took a small portion of energy from his crystal, and then buried the shard under the dirt to keep anyone from stumbling upon it. The forest was not nearly as intimidating at day as at night. Everything was lit with bright earth tones ranging from vivid green to rich brown. Even the gray bark of the dead trees looked more lively than before. It was as though the forest had been completely replaced. The assassin paid the pretty colors no mind, and instead set off to learn his way around his new home. In the following hours, he'd found a clear stream for his water source, a breeding ground for manticores which he decided not to stir up just yet, and a road that led from a large tree house belonging to a zebra, to a small town outside the woods. This presented two feeding possibilities. The zebra looked to be a knowledgable type with all the herbs and potions she kept. If he got on her bad side, she could be a real threat. The fact that she lived in a wild place like this, as opposed to the cushy homes of ponies, showed she might be able to hold her own against the changeling for a good thirty seconds. Trace smirked at that thought. He was getting full of himself, but how hard could it be to take down a zebra when he had invisibility and lasers? Still, someone like this must be smart to live in such a dangerous place. She may survive with traps and alarms, things Trace wouldn't be able to detect with his changeling senses. He'd have to be wary and keep his eyes sharp. The village, on the other hoof, might prove easier. He could probably pass himself off as a friendly spirit. Scratch that; he didn't know how to be friendly. A benign spirit, then. But how to talk to ponies? Never in his life had he spoken to anyone outside the hive, and he rarely made casual conversation. His only option was clear: spy on the town and find a pony he could trust. Trace turned invisible and began his trek into the village. The first thing he noticed was how bright the town was. It wasn't as bleached as Canterlot, but the colors still made his eyes sore. The ponies in this place seemed more lively and social as well, either stopping to chat or just giving a passing greeting to each other. It wasn't so different from changelings, except that so many of them really didn't seem to have anything to do besides wander around or socialize. At first glance, their lives appeared perfect. That could only mean bad things for Trace. Nobody's life was perfect unless it hindered on someone else's suffering, and the bright and happy lives of these Equestrians brought out the worst suspicions in him. The day he spent observing them was largly uneventful. The most he could gather was that many of these ponies seemed rather shallow, and some had shown a tendancy to judge others by appearance. Things didn't look good for Trace here. A few seemed different. One particular pink earth pony was very friendly with everypony she met. This one was undoubtedly an attention seeker, probably the most shallow here. A quiet yellow pegasus seemed like she might be more trustworthy if he could talk to her without scaring her. This proved harder than it seemed when she demonstrated that she was afraid to talk to even her own kind. He filed her away as a possible last resort. The day came to an end faster than he realized. As the ponies went back to their respective homes, so did the assassin. Back in the forest, he nestled into his burrow and fell into a light sleep.