Weak. Such a perfect word to describe it. Weak was its stance; weak was its movements; and weak was its expression. Its inky black hooves shambled against the dirt trail it went down while Its glassy blue wings buzzed with little flaps against its tired sides. it had wished that its wings would just work for a moment so Its legs could be given some kind of rest. But much like everything on this day, it was not meant to be. Each dirt kicking step it took ached through its dark legs, making its wide, blue eyes cringe to slits from time to time. The only grace that the world seemed to be giving itself was the luminescent glow given off by the moon. It was not much, but it brought a small cooling to its awkward body.
Far behind it, back to the land of Canterlot, it could still hear songs of praise and celebration, no doubt over not only the wedding that had taken place, but the victory over the Changelings. It was lovely music it had to admit, but it only served to remind itself of its pain and foretold the pain it would receive when it returned home. Earlier on during the Changeling assault on Canterlot, it had waited at the front gate of the city to make sure no pony entered to try and help stop the Changelings. Because of this and the fact it was the only Changeling to have done that, it was the last of them in the town when the spell that pushed the others was sent out. That being the case, the city guards were not pleased when they found it still waiting at the gate.
Thus leading to its broken, tired body now. "I only wanted to help..." it thought to itself for the countless time that night. The other Changelings would not be happy to see it. Where were you? Why weren't you in the attack? What sort of Changeling stands at a gate to a city we've already taken over? It could hear it all now; and it was doing nothing to help its hurting body. Tire, regret, shame... Rrrrrr... Hunger?
For a moment it ignored its pain and looked at its stomach. It continued to grumble and churn with its stomach acid, making itself flinch a bit when it noticed the pain. Not only did the outside of its body ache with a soreness, but now the inside was beating with a hallow pain as well. it looked around itself, twisting its cracking neck from one side to the other in search of something. To do this was unorthodox, but it would settle for pony food at this point. The life giving nectar that was love was most likely out of any sort of reach here. An apple, sap, a dead squirrel, it would even settle for a live one! But, nothing... There was nothing in sight except a fire just below...
A fire?
A controlled fire has someone to tend it... And that someone will have to have something to eat. Or, at the very least, be edible themselves. These were desperate times... And if it could get rid of one of these pains soon, it would. As slowly and as carefully as it could go, it went down the hill and towards the fire. It was drawn to the flame like a moth, despite how much Changelings despised that analogy. Growing closer, it could make out a lone tent and a pony sitting in front of the fire. This ruled nothing out yet. If this pony had no food in its tent, it would only take one injection of acid into this pony to get some food out of it... Worse case scenario, of course.
Its vision blurred by inner pain and outer pain, it could hardly make out the shape of the pony tending the fire. But from what it could see, it could make out a hat on top of the pony's head. The pony seemed to be stoking the fire with a prod it was holding in its mouth. It wasn't a unicorn then... And most likely it wasn't a pegasus. Good. The Changeling didn't have it in itself to fight something that could easily out gun it in this state. Creeping up on the site, it was careful as to not make a sound; as careful as a dazed, weakened, unbalanced Changeling could--
Crack...
One of its hooves crunched a twig against the dirt. It winced and prayed that the pony didn't hear. If the pony hadn't heard the twig, this could be salvaged.
"Hm?" it saw the pony turn its head in its direction and just stared.
The Changeling's eyes started to focus a bit and it could finally make out the pony. The pony was wearing a cowpony hat, a brown vest, and had green eyes. In a way, it almost looked like one of those six ponies the queen had pointed out to the horde. But, this pony was clearly a male. The sight was vague, but the changeling swore it saw the pony start to smile. "Well, howdy! Welcome to my campsite!" the pony waved a greeting and put his prod down by the fire. "Never seen one of yer' kind walkin' round these parts..." he seemed to study the changeling for a second before laughing a bit, "Come to think of it. What 'kind' are ya?"
The changeling looked at him with a blank expression, the fangs on its lips pursing a bit as the pain inside grew with the mix of anxiety being introduced. This stallion seemed to take this the wrong way and put his front right hoof up while shaking his head. "Ah! Nope! Don't you go telling me! Let me guess..." his eyes went from the ridged horn on the head of it to the crippled wings against its body. "...Are you one of them alley-corns?" The changeling only gave a blink in for their answer. "That's it. Isn't it? Alley-corn, right? You've got the horn, wings... But ya' don't look like of them princesses I see in the papers... So..."
He seemed to go back into thought while the Changeling didn't make any attempt to move, as if this situation was stunning it somehow. "Big blue eyes... Hardened skin... Can tell that from just standin' here... Huh... Yer' too big to be a bug, can tell that."
Changelings were well compared to insects for their hording nature, their bug-like eyes, and their hive-mind. Yet, it had been awhile since this Changeling heard somepony, or anything for that matter, call it a bug. "Hmmm... Naw. Can't put a my hoof on it," he shook his head and walked over to the changeling.
Then, beyond any level of pain, surprise, or anything that it felt over the course of this day, it was shocked to see this pony offer his hoof to it. "You win."
The yellow hoof remained up, offered to the Changeling. Its blue, bug-eyes glanced down at the hoof, rather unsure. And yet, something felt right when it looked at the hoof. Slowly, and with a little cringe, the Changeling's own hoof went up and clacked against the pony's. When the hooves met, they rubbed against one another in a way of shaking the other before they both were set back against the ground. "Don't talk much, do ya? Don't worry..." the pony went to the side a bit and pulled a basket of apples out from his tent, nudging it at the Changeling, "I know a tired face when I see one... Even if'n I don't know what sorta' face that is."
No waiting or hesitation was taken into account as the Changeling bobbed its head down and gobbled down an apple without relent. Strength began to return almost at the moment the juices of the apple squirted against the Changeling's muzzle. Such a sweet taste... Though, it started to taste a bit salty. What sort of apples tasted salty? "H-Hey now!" the pony went to the Changeling's side and gave a pat to its dark cheek. "Don't you start cryin'. Come on."
Crying? Who was crying...? The Changeling pressed its own hoof against her cheek and saw a damp trickle on the base of her hoof when she took it away. "Turn off yer' water works... you. Heh... Sorry, don't know yer name. But yer free to stay here as long as ya need..." he gave the Changeling a final pat before moving away and went back to tending his fire. "By the way, name's Braeburn. Honor ta' meet ya... sir? Uhh... Ma'am..." Braeburn looked back at the Changeling with a tilted head. "Sorry... Can't tell if'n yer a boy or a girl."
True, Changelings were not vastly different in their 'horde-form'. It was a form they would take so they would all look alike, thus making them appear to be a more organized army at first glance. However, like their queen, they all had a 'true-form' that was the form they were naturally born to. In the aftermath of its defeat, it had not return to that form... Nor did it find the strength to do so at its current state. Braeburn marked the hesitant nature the Changeling was giving and returned to prodding the fire with a stick. "Boy or girl... still an honor ta' meet ya."
The apples presented to the Changeling reflected the orange flame of the campfire off of their red shell, which the Changeling itself seemed to enjoy watching. As the fire died down a bit more, the Changeling looked to Braeburn, a pony it had just met a moment ago and had showed it nothing but kindness, and started to smile itself. Braeburn jolted up a bit when he heard a crackling voice come out of nowhere. "Thank you... Braeburn..." he looked back and saw the Changeling smiling at him with a much stronger standing position then it had moment ago.
"Oh-hey! You can talk!" Braeburn remarked.
It did not respond again, only sitting down on the ground and curling up a bit with a tired look. Braeburn knew when a pony was tired. And seeing how this thing resembled a pony to some degree, he guessed it was tired now too. With a kick of loose dirt over the fire and a few stomps of his back hooves on top for good measure, Braeburn too went to his tent for some rest. "Night, you... Rest well..." Braeburn said from inside his tent.
Moment by moment, the night grew quiet and without the aid of the firelight, grew more and more somber. It was in this dark, somber moment that Braeburn heard another crackling voice. "Pinator... My name is Pinator..."
"Night, Pinator..."
"Good night, Braeburn..."