//------------------------------//
// 102. First Contact 4 -- Guest Short by Anon42 -- (Author SI/Queen Chrysalis) 
// Story: Short Shorts 
// by Coranth 
//------------------------------//

Hidden in the in the treetops, you look down at the strange, insect-equine creature as it heaves and and attempts to rise from its impact crater. It is clearly exhausted and injured. Green ichor slowly drips from painful-looking fissures in its carapace.

The creature falls on its face as its hole-riddled legs fail to support its weight, and it releases a pitiful, warbling cry that makes your heart clench in sympathy. Tears runs down its face as it pounds weakly at the ground with a hoof, radiating pain and anguish across the ether.

Deciding that you cannot simply leave this being to its apparent miserable fate, you let yourself fall from the obscuring branches and land with a soft thud in front of the, for lack of better name, bug-pony.

It's eyes widen at the sight of you, and it scrambles to rise, legs and body shaking like it has run a ten mile marathon, but failing to force its wounded body to stand. Terror and desperation echo over the ether and green light gathers at the tip of its crooked, blade-like horn.

You ignore the spike of thaumic energy and let it splash harmlessly against your chest, your psionic plasma shield more than sufficient to stop the weak attack spell in its tracks, and continue towards the creature. Its breaths are quick and shallow and it recoils from your approach, curling into a keening ball of carapace.

You sit by the terrified bug-pony and carefully lift the warbling creature into your lap, gently sweeping your psychic presence against its own. It, or she, as your psychic contact has revealed to you, stiffens at the alien sensation, but relaxes ever so slightly as you allow your compassion to flow over the ether.

Igniting your hands with rejuvenating energy, you pet the insectoid pony and run your fingers through her seaweed-colored hair and down her back to brush against the bleeding cracks in her chitin, slowly mending the painful wounds. The terrified warbling from before has changed into a low, musical crooning that reminds you of a fusion between singing crickets and a purring cat and her psychic presence is hazy with pleasure.

You notice the cautious approach of smaller bug-ponies, their steps wary and stiff with pain, but lacking fear or hostility. You do not mind as they lean against you, nor do you care when they sip at your aura; you have more than enough psionic energy to spare for the bold little things. You lift one of your hands from the larger bug-pony in your lap and brush it over the head and reptile-like crest-sail of one creatures. It croons and pushes its head into your hand.

A moment later, the larger bug-pony in your lap raises her head to look at you, her expression one of awe. "Who... Who are you?" she asks, in wonder. Her voice is two-toned, buzzing, reminiscent of an insect.

"My name is David," you answer, softly. "I'm here to help you."