//------------------------------//
// In the Forest 
// Story: Displaced Soul 
// by Maddiepink5 
//------------------------------//

Darkness.

Sometimes, when one awakens, their eyes immediately shoot open, revealing the world around them. 

Other times, the process is slow and gradual. If the person in question doesn't want to wake up, they may purposely lay in the darkness, eyes closed, attempting to return to the world of dreams. 

This...is different. For this is no mere morning wake-up call. This is a searing headache. This is unresponsive limbs. This is recovering from what was  undoubtedly some severe accident, perhaps from the brink of death itself.

These thoughts barely run through my mind as I focus on something more important- I have all my energy devoted to fighting unconsciousness. All I have to do...is open my eyes...

They are extremely unresponsive, and that's an understatement. I know inherently that the connection between my mind and body is hanging on a thread. Some instinctual, basic survival urge tells me to fight what seems like a comforting slumber and return to the waking world. 

The outside world comes in slowly. First, I begin to feel. I'm naked, of which there is no doubt, feeling myself lying against a bristly yet soft surface. Temperature comes with it, a brisk atmosphere not unlike that of a fall afternoon. I begin to smell, something earthy, something natural. My hearing comes in next, along with it both growls and birdsongs alike.

And finally, I manage to pry my eyes open. The process seems to go on indefinitely, but after some amount of time my eyes begin to adjust to the world around me. The first thing I see is green- the grass that my body lies upon. I see the trees next, then the thick undergrowth. Shadows dance across my vision, and as I turn my gaze upward, I see the sun streaking through a heavy layer of leaves, with thick dark oaks surrounding me as far as my vision allows.

Though my senses are now in operation, my body refuses to respond to my commands. How pathetic I must look, lying there immovable, while inside I'm struggling with all my might to put power to my arms, my legs, my fingers, anything. When I finally start to move, my body begins to respond in the strangest of ways. 

Apparently, I lie on my side, but the senses in my arms aren't working properly. They can't really turn, seemingly aligned parallel to my body, and none of my fingers are responsive. My legs fare a bit better, aligned as they normally should be, albeit a bit less flexible. I can't feel my toes, either. 

I decide to try and get in a push-up position to try and push myself upright. Doing so without feeling fingers should be difficult, but the lumps that I can feel grip the ground surprisingly well. Gripping the ground, I bend up to stand on my legs, and smile at my success...

Only to suddenly lose my balance, falling back onto all fours. 

Confusion wracks my brain as I try to comprehend the sudden comfort I feel in such a position. Humans aren't meant for such a pose, and my arms and legs shouldn't be the same length, and...

I slowly turn my head down to look at my arms. 

They are not arms.

They are black and holey and they are not arms!

I screech and flinch away from my own body, which of course follows me as I try to back away from it. My body moves on all fours with practiced ease, and when I turn around, I screech again. More black. More holes!

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see it. A small puddle, no more than two feet across. It's stereotypical by all means, but this is not one of my one-offf stories, written in the middle of night by a stroke of random inspiration and excessive caffeine. As much as I wish that this strange dream was being induced by ridiculously unhealthy amounts of coffee, my drowsiness tells me that this is reality. And reality urges me to see my reflection before I lose my mind. 

Carefully stepping with my new body, which is somewhat responsive now that I know which ways it should bend, I make my way over to the puddle. It's dirty water, and small to boot, but I can still make out some features...

Black is the name of the game, but not all I see. Pointy tips of ears are balanced on top of my head, and as I peer closer, there is no doubt that the two blurry splotches of blue are my eyes.

What am I? What have I become?

I look back at my reflection, then draw in a sharp intake of breath and scramble away. No way. It's not possible. I couldn't possibly be...

...a changeling?

I put one of my....front legs...to the other, and bend my...hoof...to pinch myself. I wince. No, I'm not dreaming. And just like in the show, the hooves are dexterous enough for human things...

My thoughts become scrambled. What does one think when they've become a changeling? I sit, breaths coming short and rapid, trying to calm down. So many questions and concerns run through my mind. I am not a changeling. I know for a fact that I am Elle. I am a human. I do not belong here. Changelings aren't real. I can't be real. The pinch didn't work. I'm still dreaming...

Slowly, my new body sinks to the ground. Exhaustion wracks my bones. The success coming from fighting to consciousness is failing fast, and I wonder what could have happened to make me so weak, yet outwardly unharmed. If this place and body were real, that is. Nothing makes sense anymore, and I'm just so, so tired...

Eventually, I curl up on the grass and fall asleep, not sure how I should be feeling, nor understanding what I'm actually feeling.


*********

Something's amiss. 

That's the first thought that runs through my mind when I next awaken. My body responds immediately this time, and I feel much more refreshed. The feeling is short-lived when I notice something is wrong. 

Sure, it's dark out now, but that's not the real issue. The passage of time is predictable. The complete and utter silence of the world around me, however, is not.  Where before I heard bird songs and wind blowing, now dank silence surrounds me.

It is for this reason that, instead of investigating my newly acquired changeling-ness further, I rise to my feet- no, hooves- and cautiously take in my surroundings.

I can only see a few feet ahead of me in any direction, and the tree line seems to be a lot closer than it was earlier. I spot what seems like eyes peering out at me, but when I look in their direction, they're gone. A shiver runs down my spine.

I stand perfectly still, unsure of what next step to take. Wait here patiently until sunrise? Try to find my way out? Who even knows how big this forest is, or if it leads anywhere? What if I go in circles? What if I'm not even in Equestria, and when I escape I'll be surrounded by humans, and I'll be the only changeling?!

I realize the quick breaths coming in and out of my lungs, and force myself to look down and take deep breaths. It helps a little, until I hear the crunch of a twig. I slowly look up, and see those eyes again. They don't disappear, though, and instead stare at me from the darkness for but a few moments.

Then the underbrush starts rustling, and the hiding figure moves. First, a large golden paw, claws as sharp as knives, sticks itself in the clearing. A massive stomach follows, with back paws as big as my head. I back away, looking up as its full self emerges, revealing a huge, hairy head, large bat-like wings, and a thick scorpion's tail.

A manticore.

It roars.

I scream.

And suddenly, the chase is on. I turn tail and start racing through the forest as best I can, even in the darkness. Thick roots and a lack of vision threaten fatal mistakes at every turn as I weave in and out of the thick, dark trees. The manticore gives chase, just a few feet behind me at all times, unable to catch me only because its huge body struggles to fit in between the closely knit tree-line. If not for that, I would already be in its saliva-dripping jaws. As it is, though, I have little control over this new body. Thorns and twigs scratch me from all angles; the uneven ground nicks my hooves and trips me any number of times.

I don't know how long this goes on, but before long my breaths are rapid and short, my legs aching, and still I have to gallop forward as fast as I can. The manticore has more stamina than I, though. I feel its hot, desperate breath on my hind, and I know within moments that it will tear me into shreds-

My body can't take it anymore. When the next big root appears in my path, my hooves trip over themselves trying to get over the hurdle and I collapse to the ground. I land on my front leg, and the crack sends spikes of pain shooting through my body. The manticore stops, sizing me up as it bares it razor sharp teeth, and leans back to pounce- 

And stops.

The manticore freezes, completely silent. This is no normal, hesitant pause. The way it is positioned, leaning over me as tears streak down my face...it should fall onto my body just by gravity, never mind the fact that it doesn't blink...

I hear some sort of chanting, slowly growing out of the silence of the forest. The more I stare at the manticore, the louder the chanting becomes, a familiar voice but in a foreign language. Then I notice what is happening to the manticore. Barely visible in the darkness, some sort of gray substance is spreading up from its feet. It spreads to its legs, then its chest, the chanting getting stronger as it goes. I hear a crackling sound, and suddenly, that it it.

The manticore is turned to stone.

From behind it emerges a cloaked figure- a pony, or another changeling? 

"Come, friend, we have no time to lose. This forest is a bomb with a very short fuse!"

The voice seems familiar somehow, and I know it is trustworthy. However, I collapse as I try to stand up, more pain shooting through my front leg. In the heat of the moment, it was easy to forget breaking it through and through.

The cloaked pony- I'm pretty sure it's a pony- comes forward, mutters something I can't understand, and lifts me onto their back. They're not much bigger than I am, yet they lift me with the greatest of ease. As they set off at a brisk trot, I feel my racing heart calm down. Though I can't place the familiarity, it reassures me. I feel safe for the first time since I woke up in this body, even if I hadn't actually had consciousness in this body for long.

After some traveling, I can see the forest start to come into vision around me. The light gets a little brighter as we approach what must be our destination, a dimly lit hut. And suddenly, I know who's carrying me, where I am, and just what kind of "pony" they are.

Entering into the hut confirms my suspicions. Though it appeared relatively few times on my television amidst many other episodes of a certain pony program, it was a defining building with a voodoo feel.

The not-pony-but-something-similar lays me down on a cot. I watch them- that is, her- with bated breath. And finally, she pulls back her hood, confirming my suspicions.

"Zecora," I say breathlessly.

The striped mare narrows her sea green eyes at me. "Creature that has been rendered lame, how is it that you know my name? If invasive mind reading is what you can do, then perhaps I should not have rescued you."

I feel my own eyes widen as I shake my head. "No, no. I cannot use mind control magic. I know your name, because, well..."

How exactly do you tell a character that is supposed to be fictional that they are a fictional character in your world and that you know a whole bunch of personal stuff about them?

"...It's complicated."

Zecora peers at me for a few moments more, then sighs. "For now I will put my trust in you- do not make it something I will rue. First your leg I will begin to heal, then we can talk more over a meal."

I sigh with relief and set my head back down on the cot. Having broken limbs before, I don't feel the need to cry at the harsh pain. It is enough pain, however, that I close my eyes and try to relax instead of straining myself watching Zecora. 

She does...something, I'm sure, perhaps with potion or enchantments or Zebra magic or what have you. All I know is that the pain slowly recedes, and when I lift my head again, the numb limb is covered in a makeshift cast.

"Because your race would give others a rise, taking you to the hospital would not be wise. My native alternatives are not ideal, but it will eventually allow your leg to heal."

I use my good front leg to push into a sitting position. "You mean that... because I am a changeling, they will not let me into the hospital?" I frown. "I understand the invasion of Canterlot was an issue, but even that is beyond my understanding."

Zecora gives me a strange look. "Lost in the Everfree, and still talking of the invasion? How could a changeling not understand the discrimination?"

I open my mouth to start, but my stomach gurgles. I look up, embarrassed, a blush painting my face I'm sure. "Could I possibly explain over a meal, like you suggested earlier? I-I mean I know you have really showed me stunning hospitality, but if you wouldn't mind..."

Zecora shakes her head. "It is no problem, my dear. Please, feel no fear. Your confusion is clear." She steps towards me and bows her head.

I stare at her, blinking in confusion. "Um..."

She doesn't move.

"...Exactly what are you doing?"

"I am offering my heart to you, so you may use my love as food."

"...Oh." Yes, I had definitely forgotten that minor detail. More importantly, I have no idea how to eat love. Most people-or ponies, or changelings- know instinctively how to eat.

"Is something wrong, creature of the ruse? Is my love something you are unable to use?" Zecora looks up, and I can see her confusion mixed with sadness. 

"Er, uh, no, it's not your fault. Your love is not...rotten or anything. But..." I look away. "Zecora, I assume you have heard many crazy things, correct?"

She nods, her pristinely cut mohawk swaying in the dim light. "This is true indeed. Crazy things gravitate towards a zebra like me." She chuckles.

I take a deep breath, trying to get my thoughts in order. Then I look at her. "You may want to sit down for this." She does, sitting at her small oak table.

With one more deep breath...

"My name is Elle. I'm a human. Humans are like intelligent shaved monkeys, except more attractive. In my world, Equestria and its world is a work of fiction. We have no magic, or ponies, or multiple sapient races. Somehow, I ended up here, in a changeling's body. I'm extremely shocked because I was entirely sure that Equestria and its universe is not real, but apparently it is. So I am wildly confused, and I do not know anything about how this world works besides what this work of fiction told me, especially about changelings, and since changelings were only briefly featured during the invasion of Canterlot I know practically nothing about them, including how to walk in my own body."

I gasp for air and stop to gauge Zecora's reaction. She has closed her eyes, expression completely neutral. When she opens her eyes, she locks gazes with me. 

"Tell me, professed monkey, have you head of the multiverse theory?"

I tilt my head. "Yes. I'm a fiction writer, and I've used that theory often in my writing." I pause. "Wait...are you suggesting it is true?"

Zecora nods. "What I am suggesting to you is indeed that the multiverse theory is true. One version of this theory may seem a bit leery, but it seems to be as true as the sky is blue."

She turns and gestures a hoof to tomes lining one of the walls, neatly organized into shelves. "A work of fiction created in one world spawns another. A suggestion simple at heart, but complicated like no other. For each world can spawn more works of fiction, so the worlds are created without constriction." She stops, thinking for a moment, then turns back to me. "What were you doing, otherworldly friend, in order the barrier between worlds to bend?"

Her scrambled grammar in order to produce rhymes confuses me for a moment, then I realize the importance of her question. What was I doing before I came here? Try as I might, wracking my brain for answers, I can't come up with anything. I shake my head at Zecora.

"I see. What a tragedy, to be displaced so easily."

"Not really." I look away when she raises an eyebrow at me, and I feel the need to explain myself to my gracious host. Having landed in this bizarre situation, it was far from my mind until now, but..."I wasn't...well, I wasn't happiest girl around. My life was great, but well... let's just say I know a lot about this world because I needed an escape."

This morbid admission silences Zecora for quite a while. As she gazes into my eyes, I feel as though she can see all the nights I spent crying on my bed, or drowning my sorrows in my writing or My Little Pony. When she next speaks, however, it seems she has decided to skip over it entirely. "In order to survive, you must learn to be a changeling. To stay with me in the Everfree would be too challenging. My idea is to train your disguises in various magical drills, then send you off to live in nearby Ponyville."

"L-live in Ponyville?" The small town's image fills my mind, with thatched roofs, dirt paths and a huge crystal castle. The thought of seeing so many characters I had put my hearts into until the show ended a year ago sends my heart aflutter. Even if I had to live in disguise, it would be an actual thrill to immerse myself in one place every pony fan wanted to be. "I would...that would be an honor, Zecora."

Zecora smiles. "To such a well spoken changeling, I'd love my services to render. But first, allow me to explain why Equestria is the opposite of changeling splendor."