“Life is a tough challenge, but it’s a challenge worth fighting for”
-Alexandre Bellefeuille
My lengthy journey to the gallows took place in the Badlands, a few years after the failed attempt to take over Canterlot. It wasn’t much to look at—just a scatter of bone dry rocks, a few decomposing corpses of my former comrades, and the ever present Macintosh Hills that seemed to stretch forever. A large community of wild dragons which we don’t usually get along with, was nestled a few miles away from our camp. At first glance, no pony would ever want to be a resident here, not even for all the bits in Equestria.
The colony was on the brink of extinction, from having a population of over ten thousand which had plummeted to just a few hundred because of the love famine and recent dragon raids, who burned anything we owned as a source of amusement. We tried to escape and seek asylum, but we would either be forced back by a barrage of fireballs or be ‘persuaded’ to go back by Celestia’s new weapon. It was like a crossbow that shoots very small metal projectiles at incredible speeds and makes a really loud bang when you pull the trigger.
She expected us to eat normal equine food, so her guards sends carts full of hay, apples and other nourishment weekly. Doesn’t she understand that their cuisine seems to our taste buds like something from a Los Pegasus’ dumpster? Most of the food was either taken by the dragons or was left to rot away in time. Trust me, you would have seen me eating meat before eating a cupcake with chocolate icing. So to conserve energy, I didn’t shape shift for years.
It all started on a freezing night during a major downpour, which was extremely uncommon seeing as it only rained about once every ten years. Every small cave and overhanging boulder in our territory was filled to the rim by hiding changelings. Every time I tried to jam in, I would be greeted with an annoyed kick or a shove.
“Go and find somewhere else to sleep, Smoulder!” a changeling would bellow, after being awoken. With my head hanging down, soaked in water, and my breath turning to vapour, I wandered aimlessly, hoping to find some sort of shelter from the shiver inducing rain.
***
A few uneventful minutes passed, walking on a remote plain while the volley of rain showed no sign of stopping. By chance, I was able to find a dead tree that had just recently yielded to the elements. It rested on a rock with its bough making a small but convenient roof. The floor was a little wet, but I guessed it was better than trying to get some sleep in the shower.
I was slightly more comfortable but the pitter patter of rain remained an irritating background noise, which didn’t cease so long as it continued to rain. I tried my best to ignore the infernal sound by pushing my hooves into my ears. I started to think about what a normal earth, pegasi, or unicorn pony would be doing right now. Probably snugged into their beds, under a dry roof with a warm fire crackling by their side.
As I kept thinking about how privileged they were, a small pressure started to build at the back of my head. It only grew bigger and broader as seconds passed, until … it landed on me like a ton of bricks.
“I can’t take this any more!” I exploded, throwing my arms out. Coincidentally, at the same time a crack of lightning busted out of the clouds. My head went into override only having experienced lightning a couple times in my life, I fainted from the sudden shock. Well, at least I was able to get some sleep.
***
The sound of a high pitched beeping awoke my mind. The atmosphere around me felt … alien. I was comfortable. Too comfortable. Not wanting to open my eyes, leaving the alarm continuously beeping in the background, I studied my senses. My … my horn! I couldn’t feel it and … my wings … they felt less cracked than usual.
“Oh, Celestia. Please don’t tell me that the lightning struck me and turned me into a creature with seven hooves and eleven eyes,” I said as I bit my lip.
Slowly gaining confidence, my eyelids opened little by little to see that I was on a wooden bed, with a blue silky quilt and a white pillow placed at my head. Bring up my hoof to inspect my horn, my scream had been several octaves above what I'd normally be capable of producing. I realized that my fur was now a navy blue colour, without holes! I tried to shift form back into a changeling, but it didn’t work.
I began to rotate erratically, eyeing my limbs and body in horrified disbelief while barely managing to speak between my frenetic breaths. “No ... this ... it can't be ... I'm a—” I halted when my tail tucked itself between my legs, squeaking at the sight and feel of the involuntary reaction. Getting a hold of myself, trying to slow down my breathing, it took a few seconds before I was able to once again attempt to inspect my horn.
The first observation that I gathered was that my horn felt as if it was totally gone, like it was never there. But another thing amazed me - I had hair! Smooth, silky hair! Fascinatingly twirling my shocking yet astonishing discovery with my hoof, I started to examine the small bedroom. It was mostly empty, just an old bleak, brown wooden wardrobe and closet, the door in front, and a square window with velvet curtains glistening with sunrays to my left.
When my eyes moved to view the right side, I jumped in alarm to the other side of the bed. There was a stallion gawking right at me. I raised my hooves in a fight stance and narrowed my eyes, ready for any attack and so did he. I waited for his first offensive move, ready to block or dodge it, and so did he. I sat there glaring at his eyes for a minute. Tilting my head in confusion, he copied every move I made, from scratching my head to making faces. Then, for the second time in a single day, it landed on me like a ton of bricks. I was playing with my own reflection in an oval, golden framed mirror. Giving myself a small laugh for being so dumb, I moved in closer to inspect my image.
Seeing my head hornless, but covered in cyan hair with a green outline was quite amusing. What also caught my intentions were my wings. They weren’t dried Swiss cheese anymore, but more smooth and sophisticated. I haven’t felt this great sensation for years.
Suddenly, my reflection shape shifted into a changeling with a heavy smirk. It grabbed my head pulling it through the mirror. I tried as hard to resist but with the element of surprise against me it was far too late. I felt the power of gravity as I tumbled down a steep hill made out of obscurity.
Groaning from the agony of falling down of what felt like a flight of stairs, I finally reached a flat plain. I could just see the outline of the ground but the changeling was nowhere to be seen. Abruptly, a shadowy hoof, gloomier than darkness itself, hurled into me from out of the sky and turned itself into a furious sea storm trying to drown me. Every wave that crashed into me felt like a hoof shoving me down. I was able to stay afloat for a few seconds, with the little experience I was equipped with, until a current or what felt like an eagle’s claw hauled my forehooves down. Struggling for my life, with only half a lung full of air, the claw dragged me deeper and deeper to a stage where I knew nothing could be done.
“This is it,” I thought miserably, ceasing my struggling. “I’m just another changeling served on a silver platter to death itself.”
Seeing the last few air bubbles fly away to the surface, my vision began to blur.
***
“Ghuahh!” I came back to reality, gasping for air. Spitting out a few pints of mud that came from a puddle which I rolled into face first during my sleep. The taste was revolting. Swiping the mud off my eyes with my hooves, I slowly rose and trotted to a nearby, mostly clean pond crafted by the weather last night to wash down my mud covered face. I gazed at my reflection.
“Yep, still a changeling,” giving off a grave sigh.
After a few minutes, I started to amble back to the colony but as I did, my hooves stopped in a tremor and my eye widen. I just … I just had a dream. Changeling weren’t meant to have dreams. We slept, but all we would visualize is the darkness in our literally non-beating stone hearts. No, I’m serious, it was literally made out of stone- never to love, feel, or dream. I guess that’s why we savour the taste of love so much.
At that moment, a spectrum of emotions fazed through my head. At one side, besides my dream turning into a nightmare, it felt overwhelming, splendid, and remarkable; I don’t think there are enough words in the Trotford Dictionary to describe it. But on the other side of the spectrum, terror ran within my veins. What did this mean? Was I going to turn into a creature with seven hooves and eleven eyes?
“W- What’s happening?” I frightfully whispered under my breath. Without warning, a ball of fire roars past me throwing me into disarray on the ground.
“Oh horseapples, please not a dragon.” I groaned, hastily getting up and darting back to the colony.
Looking over my right shoulder, I was right: it was a dragon. Its scorching eyes locking onto me, red scales penetrating through the air with ease and jagged nails and teeth ready for a bite.
“Buck, Buck, Buck!” moving my hooves as fast as possible. The predator was rapidly gaining on me. Taking a glimpse back, a ball of raging fire exploded out of its mouth. Fortunately, instincts and adrenaline combined together made my wings automatically shoot up, dodging the projectile by inches. Grunting at the pain of the heat, sweat hanged on my head.
I was quite stunned to see how far I had walked last night seeing the colony so far away. “Come on, just over this mound of rocks,” flapping my wings so hard that they felt like falling off. Peeking over my shoulder, I realized I wasn’t being chased anymore. The dragon had completely disappeared.
Decelerating, I landed on the heap of rocks. I didn’t know whether to be relieved that it was gone or afraid for not knowing where its location was. Turning around to face the colony, I was paralyzed in fear. A mass of dragons, if not the whole the whole population, was burning everything. Dead corpses blazed on the ground while the living were either using their weak magic to defend themselves while being pursued, or were rolling on the ground and howling in horror, trying to flatten the fire from eating them alive.
Somehow, simultaneously, I knew that this was our species last stand for survival. A symphony of spine-chilling hollers cried out behind me. The red scaled dragon reappeared out of the sunlight, now accompanied with his friends.
“Ponyfeathers,” I swore to myself, as I felt the adrenalin pumping back through my veins again.