What was that? Stinkbug stared at the creature looking at him, not knowing what it was. Right away, his mind began pulling up the memories of the swarm, and other memories as well, ancestral memories, a vast mental database of predators and prey. Stinkbug gave his visitor a blank stare, not knowing what to make of them.
She had the body of a bird, Stinkbug could figure that out. She was quite large and had powerful looking wings. He watched as she landed on top of a mossy boulder. On top of the bird body was the head of something called a goat; Stinkbug had never seen a goat, but he knew what they were. But something was off; this goat headed bird had fangs. Goats, as far as Stinkbug knew, were plant eaters and did not have fangs.
“What are you?” Stinkbug asked, being direct.
“I’m a harpy,” the creature replied in a shrill, almost grating voice, “and my name is Celaeno.”
Keeping his guard up, Stinkbug continued to study his visitor. “What’s a harpy?”
The harpy, whatever she was, settled onto her boulder, folded in her wings, and made herself comfortable. Stinkbug looked up at her. She was black everywhere except where she was grey. Her feathers were all black, but her goat parts were grey. Her talons and legs were a dull, dingy yellow. She had long sharp talons.
“Harpies are the harbingers of Grogar.” The harpy shrugged, then corrected herself. “Well, we used to be. He was defeated and we, his loyal minions, were scattered. Well, I’m not his loyal minion. I don’t get along with my sisters.”
Stinkbug said nothing, but kept his eyes upon Celaeno.
“I turned away from my sisters. I don’t much care for the constant fighting and this endless war hasn’t gotten us anywhere.” The harpy paused, tilted her head to one side, and blinked at Stinkbug. “They’re at war with the ponies. I don’t think the ponies even notice us anymore. What’s your story? I don’t see many changelings that actually look like changelings. You’re not even trying to hide yourself, bug.”
“I was tossed out… I smell bad,” Stinkbug replied.
The harpy inhaled. “That’s not true at all. You smell mouth wateringly delicious… oh, don’t worry, I’d never eat you, but you smell wonderful.”
Not sure what to think, Stinkbug sat there, watching as the harpy continued sniffing the air. She seemed pleasant enough, but there was nothing in his memories anywhere to give him information about her. He knew nothing about her, what she did, or if she was a friend or foe.
“My sisters might eat you,” the harpy admitted with a bob of her head. “They’re cruel, all of them, and that was why I left. I don’t agree with eating things that talk. That’s just rude. It’s hard to be an ethical eater.”
Stinkbug’s blank stare intensified. He didn’t understand most of what he was hearing.
“I try to survive on carrion and hunting things that don’t talk,” Celaeno continued in her shrill, somewhat grating nasal sounding voice. “I have decided that I am good. I’m not totally certain what being good means, but I have a few ideas and I try to stick by them.”
“I don’t know what good or bad is.” Stinkbug lifted his head a little higher. “I just don’t want to die. I’ve been cut off from the swarm and now I am all alone. A changeling isn’t supposed to be alone.”
“Why were you cut off?” Celaeno asked.
“Because I smell bad,” Stinkbug replied as he looked up at the harpy. He had said so just a few moments ago.
“But you don’t smell bad… you smell just like delicious carrion left to bloat in the sun.” Celaeno flapped her folded wings against her sides and lept down from her boulder. She landed near Stinkbug and smiled at him, revealing jagged, crooked fangs. “I could sit back and smell you all day. You’re amazing.”
“The other changelings didn’t feel that way.” Stinkbug, still cautious, allowed the harpy to come nearer to him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m going to die. I’m going to starve to death. I have become a lonesome 'ling. I have no hope of surviving on my own. I need love.”
“Well,” Celaeno said in a low, nasal whine, “you could keep complaining, or, if you were so inclined, you could come with me and you could be a good changeling. If you became a good changeling, others will love you and you’ll survive.”
“Good changeling?” Stinkbug wasn’t sure what to think about such a thing.
“I made the choice to be good, why can’t you?” Celaeno asked.
Overwhelmed, Stinkbug fell silent and tried to sort everything out. Be good and do what? How would this feed him? How would he survive? He watched as she tossed a bag she was carrying aside upon the water’s edge. What should he do? The harpy seemed nice enough, but he didn’t know if he should trust her. As he sat there, watching her, she tossed herself into the water and began to bathe.
“Another habit of mine that makes my sisters hate me,” she said as she began getting herself clean. “I like being clean. They’re dirty and disgusting and gross.” She began humming to herself as she fluffed out her feathers and drenched her body.
Stinkbug watched as the harpy creature bathed herself in the water, flapping her wings, tossing her head about, and scrubbing her body by rubbing herself against the submerged rocks. The idea of bathing in the water struck him as odd. Water was a precious, scarce resource. Changelings bathed and groomed one another with their acidic saliva. Nothing left you clean, sleek, and shiny like acid. Of course, the harpy was a soft, fleshy creature, and she didn’t have chitin. Soft, fleshy creatures sometimes melted when exposed to acid. The Queen Mother said it was because they were weak, worthless lifeforms.
Stinkbug began to suspect that his Queen Mother was wrong. It was a painful thought that made his body ache. He was created to be obedient and do everything without question. Having been tossed out, having been cut off, Stinkbug was now free to think on his own and form his own opinions.
Celaeno popped up out of the water, scrambled up onto a rock, and then looked down at her reflection in the water. “Who’s a pretty birdy?” she asked. “You are! Oh you are a pretty birdy!”
How odd. Stinkbug’s head tilted off to one side.
“This is gonna be great. We’ll go on adventures together, slay monsters, brave the wilds, and as soon as we prove ourselves, the ponies are bound to accept us. It’s a foolproof plan!” Celaeno gave herself a shake, trying to work the water free from her feathers. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
Stinkbug said nothing in reply. What choice did he have?