//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Stinkbug the Unwanted // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Celaeno was a very peculiar creature. Stinkbug wasn’t quite sure what to think about her, but he followed her. She seemed to have a lot of knowledge about the world all around them, she knew how to stay safe, and she was armed. She had a blow gun that fired poison darts. Stinkbug felt safe with her. The pair traveled north, into a valley that existed between what Celaeno called the Hayseed Swamps and the Macintosh Hills. The valley was green, just about the greenest place that Stinkbug had ever seen. For whatever reason, nothing bothered them while they traveled, no monsters jumped out to eat them, nothing came scurrying out of the bushes to molest them. Equestria was a much safer place than Stinkbug first believed it to be. Stinkbug walked sometimes, while Celaeno flew overhead in slow, lazy circles, and at other times, he flew. Mostly, he just wanted to see the sights. Seeing things awakened ancient memories tucked away in his mind, swarm knowledge and instinctual memories. They came upon a group of creatures that Celaeno called buffalo, but the buffalo went stampeding off long before Stinkbug could even get close. They thundered over the lush green grass of the prairie and their snorting could be heard over the rumbles of their hooves. Stinkbug and Celaeno almost encountered a group of crackle jackals, the strange, electric dog like creatures that were the bane of so many, but they ran off, yelping, whimpering, and rubbing their faces against the green grass. Celaeno had said that when they barked, they shot bolts of lightning out of their mouths. Stinkbug found that he wanted to see that, but the crackle jackals had fled, leaving Stinkbug sad and disappointed. For some reason, the deer and the antelope stopped playing when Stinkbug drew near, and not one single creature came over to say a discouraging word. Flocks of prairie birds took wing and flew off at speeds that ornithologists wouldn’t’ve believed even if seen. A large land drake remembered that it had important business elsewhere and took off running. “You know, I don’t recall Equestria ever being this boring,” Celaeno said to Stinkbug as they stopped and rested near a stream. The harpy bounced around in the grass, trying to flatten an area down into a makeshift nest so she could get some rest. The sun was setting off to the west, turning the sky orange, purple, and gold. Stinkbug watched it, mesmerised by the sight, for the changeling sunsets and sunrises were magical events that he could not ignore. “To the north, there is a place called Dodge City Junction. It’s not a nice place, but we might find a chance to be heroes there. To the west is Appleloosa. It’s a quiet place and I hear the ponies are a bit nicer than Dodge City Junction.” Stinkbug, spellbound by the sunset, sat staring off towards the west. “We’ll go west, I guess, since you seem to like it,” Celaeno said to her quiet companion. “Pretty.” For Stinkbug, pretty was a useless concept. Changelings didn’t do pretty. They were creatures of survival. Changelings were black, hideous, and ugly. Stinkbug himself was an eyesore example of his species. What need did changelings have of pretty? Pretty was a disguise you wore but also hated—ponies were ‘pretty’ creatures and resentment for them was strong. “Beauty is only skin deep,” Celaeno said in a singsong voice, “ugly is to the bone. Beauty only fades with age while ugly holds its own.” An involuntary laugh slipped out of Stinkbug’s mouth, an experience he still wasn’t quite used to. He looked at his companion and watched as she continued to make her makeshift nest. Celaeno wasn’t pretty. She was a goat headed bird. Something told Stinkbug that ponies would not find her pretty. After watching her for a while, he returned his gaze to the sunset. “I think we’ll be safe again tonight,” Celaeno said to Stinkbug, “nothing seems to want to bother us while we sleep. Before I met you, everything tried to eat me.” “What makes something pretty?” Stinkbug asked. The harpy fluffed out her feathers as she made a low, curious bleating sound, a troubled baa-aaa-haa noise of surprise and confusion. She hopped around in the grass and then, without warning, she lept on top of Stinkbug, surprising him. She perched on his angled back, as he was sitting in the grass. Her talons gripped his chitin and she sat atop him, staring at the sun. “I have no idea what makes something pretty,” Celaeno admitted in reply. “Maybe colours? Colours can be pretty. Those colours are nice enough, I suppose.” “But why do we find it pretty?” Stinkbug asked. “I don’t know.” Celaeno shrugged with her wings and began to look over Stinkbug, looking for any signs of dirt or parasites clinging to his matte black body. “What makes something ugly?” Stinkbug tilted his head off to the left and watched as the sun drifted a little lower. “What makes us decide what is pretty or ugly?” “Uh… I have no idea?” Celaeno replied. “How do we…” Stinkbug’s words trailed off and the changeling struggled to give words to the concept within his mind. “How do we change the minds of others?” “I don’t follow.” Stumped, Stinkbug sulked for a moment, not knowing what else to say. It was getting harder for him to think sometimes, and there were moments when his mind felt slow, like now. He felt worn down and tired. “How do we change what they think is pretty or ugly?” “Oooh…” Celaeno shook her head. “Stinky, I don’t think you can do that. I mean, a critter sees what they see. I don’t know if you can change how another sees you.” “I could change how I look, but then I wouldn’t be me,” Stinkbug said, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “It would be… it would be… it would be—” “Lying?” Celaeno offered, trying to be helpful. “Yes.” Stinkbug nodded his head. “Lying.” “Well, by that same line of thinking, something telling you that they found you pretty when they really found you ugly would also be lying, even if they were trying to be nice. Sometimes, I think you just have to accept things how they are. Some things can’t be changed. We’re ugly. We might not be able to convince others that we’re pretty, but we can change their minds and make them like us for other reasons.” “You not ugly.” The words slipped unbidden from out of Stinkbug’s mouth. Mortified, he jammed a hoof into his mouth to gag himself, to silence himself, without even understanding why he was doing it. “You’re a good bug, Stinky,” Celaeno said to her companion as she sat upon his back. “I don’t think you’re so bad looking either. Just different. You’re a bug horse. So what?” Feathers fluffing, the harpy lept from the changeling’s back and landed down inside of her makeshift nest in the grass. “I’m gonna try to catch dinner in the stream. You just keep watching that sunset, Stinky. It makes you pretty on the inside, where it matters.” Confused by Celaeno’s words, Stinkbug pondered how the harpy was able to see through his chitin. Perhaps some magical ability that he was unaware of. He didn’t know what he looked like on the inside. He knew that he was made of meat and had specialised organs that were alchemical stills. He watched as the harpy went tramping through the tall grass, off to the stream so she could catch her dinner. He was hungry himself, but what he needed wasn’t available. Turning his head, he watched the sunset, wondering about what made things pretty and ugly.