//------------------------------// // Chapter Fourteen: Changes // Story: The Wayfarers // by TheFictionAddiction //------------------------------//   The wondrous specimen lying atop her had a coat that smelt of crisp cinnamon and felt of Saddle Arabian silk. Thickly coiled muscles rippled like waves beneath crimson fur. She felt those muscles begin to twitch eagerly as she nibbled on the exposed flesh of his neck. Her head swam with that scent now, filling her up and overwhelming her senses. That’s not all I’d like him to fill, she thought greedily, taking another nibble. He tasted even better than he smelt. The stallion was already breathing heavy, now the mare had elicited the most enticing moan she had ever heard. Every kiss they shared and every caress they exchanged worked to fuel a fire burning hot in the pit of the mare’s stomach, its ashes fluttering like butterflies in her chest. In the throes of her ecstasy, the mare had managed to find her way on top of this mountain of a stallion. She didn't know, nor did she care. For the time being, the mare would bring her lover up to his peak with her. “Mmm, you like it when I do this?” She cooed, head lowering and lips working to find the thick fur of the stallion’s chest, as well as the sensitive patch of skin below it. The burly stud’s body went rigid as he threw his head back. The mask of stoicism he wore so proudly melted, exposing an agony so sweet it had become bliss. There was a guttural, gasping voice that fought its way up the stallion’s throat as he tried to answer. “E-Eeyup!” It was all that she needed to hear. Her nerve endings sang, responding to the single word as if it were a jolt of electricity. She doubled down on her efforts, working over every bit of flesh her lips could find. Leave not an inch! The words turned over and over in her mind as if it was some kind of mad battlecry. Leave not an inch! Leave not an inch! Sweat glistened on their coats like morning dew. “Well, if you liked that,” she panted, the words thick and slurred, “then you’re going to love this!” She was determined to taste every bit of him, every last bit, saving the best for last. Oh, but wasn't she making progress. It was summer for this little song bird. She was so close to roosting now. So close… If only it weren’t for the fact that all dreams end at their climax… **** The skull rattling bellow she had been expecting was replaced instead by a bang as her door swung inward. Mayor Mare’s eyes blinked open. At first all she saw was a world swirling with streaks of grey and white. Wait a second, this isn’t right… Carefully, as if balancing a faberge egg on a straw, the mare lifted her head. She absently brushed away the curtain of mane that had fallen in her eyes. Her office solidified at last. A disappointed “ah” was all she could manage as her gaze fell down to the mound of paperwork pooling on her desk. Well, at least it made a good pillow... “Ahem!” The mayor nearly leapt out of her chair as someone cleared their throat. “I hate to bother you, Mayor, but I need a moment of your time.” That is when Mayor Mare noticed the disembodied head floating in her doorway. A smile cut through the stiff muscles of the Mayor’s face. “Oh, it’s only you, Sugar Cube. You gave me quite the scare.” There must have been a break in the continual shitstorm that followed the secretary about, for an apologetic smile graced the secretary’s normally strict features. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Mayor, I was just coming to-” Sugar Cube’s words faltered momentarily as her eyes honed in on Mayor Mare. At least a hundred or so ponies passed through town hall in the past five years. Each had taken their turn under the agnostic spotlight that was Sugar Cube’s gaze. However, this was the mayor’s first time. The dour, ill-tempered secretary normally treated Mayor Mare with nothing but the utmost respect. Now, judging by the expression on Sugar Cube’s face at least, the diplomat was nothing more than a common criminal. “Is something the matter, Miss Sugar Cube?” It took all of the mayor’s force of will to keep from squirming. By the sun and moon, I never realized how much she looks like my mother! “Forgive me, it’s just that…” Sugar Cube paused, flushed briefly, then pointed a hoof at the Mayor. “You… have a little something… on your face.” Mayor Mare’s brow knitted together. “My… face?” And that’s when she felt it: the piece of paper sticking to her left cheek. “Oh,” she chuckled, the relief tasting like a cool drink. “How silly of me!” Delicately, as if removing a band aid, she pulled the newly acquired accessory free from her face. Aside from a drying pool of spiddle, there was no damage to the document. Not that it mattered. Mayor Mare had an overabundance of these pesky building permits. They flooded her deskspace and only seemed to multiply as the weeks rolled by. Having one less would have been a small mercy at least, but it seemed she was not so lucky. Mayor Mare smoothed out the document over her desk and glanced back to Sugar Cube. “Better?” she asked, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. Sugar Cube only nodded. It seemed that they were back to business. “Good. Now, what were you saying?” “Right… that.…” Sugar Cube fidgeted with her glasses for a moment. “It seems that you have a few unscheduled visitors. More out of towners looking for work.” “How many? And are they roosting or just passing through?” “Three. From what they’ve said, it sounds like they’re roosting.” Mayor Mare studied her secretary, her eyes focusing on her like bifocals. “They the ones we received word about?” “I… believe so. One rude, one prude, and one much too pleasant for my liking.” “Hmm. I was wondering when they'd stop by town.” Mayor Mare appeared thoughtful for a moment, but it slowly devolved. Replacing it was an almost foalish glee. “Well, Miss Sugar Cube, it appears like our evening has just got a bit of spice, doesn't it?” “So… you’ll see them, then?” Sugar Cube motioned with a nod to the stack of papers still sitting in front of the Mayor. “What about those building permits? It may be days before you have the time to getting around to them again.” “Oh, pshaw! I’m sorry to say this, but you have yourself fooled if you think that all these contractors are going to wait for the signature of one old mare. Bits have been exchanged, materials have been shipped in, and Twilight has already given her royal blessing. I’m little more than a final formality at this point. Now…” Mayor Mare paused to try and straighten out her disheveled mane, as in vain as that was, before nodding to her secretary. “Show them in, please.” **** The trio shuffled in, Alabaster and Little Whisper in the lead with Midnight Dreary bringing up the rear. Sugar Cube held open the door, the tip of her hawkish glare pricking upon each of the travelers as they passed by. Though Alabaster and Little Whisper didn’t seem to notice the dirty look-or perhaps they were just pretending not to notice- Midnight could feel her eyes hook their talons into his flesh all too well. Just like with the foyer, the trio found the office they were herded into to be nearly barren of any furniture except for an overly crowded desk. The only signs that this place wasn’t owned by a soulless, pencil pushing machine was the framed picture of an elderly pair -parents perhaps, Whisper would guess- hanging on the wall by a rusted nail and some small wooden chairs pushed aside to make the room feel more spacious. Alabaster gave the room a brisk once-over, his eyes pausing momentarily at the planks of wood below his hooves. He gave a quick sniff and wasn't surprised to smell fresh timber with the faint ascent of tree sap. The aroma, the lack of wear on the wood; this room seems so much fresher than rest of the place. After a moment of consideration, he shrugged the train of thought off. The boss head must've gotten tired of their old office and wanted a new, bigger one. Something, intuition maybe, told him that wasn't quite right. Alabaster wasn't going to trouble himself over it, however. Better to leave intuition to Little Whisper. “Why, hello there! Please, don’t be shy! Come on in!” The trio was greeted by one of the first friendly faces they’d seen all day, aside from Carrot Top. The mare seated before them seemed to be about twenty, or perhaps even thirty years their senior. Little Whisper found she had her doubts about that. Though the grin she gave the outsiders appeared sincere enough, the salt and pepper in her mane looked a tad… off… almost artificial. Despite the weathered age the Mayor’s mane proclaimed, there was something in her features that betrayed a youth that wasn't too far older than the trio themselves. Dye? Whisper asked herself, her keen senses giving her a resounding ‘yes’. “Um… Good evening, ma'am,” Little Whisper started timidly, urging herself to sound bolder when she noticed the trepidation in her voice. “You must be the mayor?” As if on cue, the mayor straightened her tie, flipped back her mane, and pushed up her glasses. A self-important gesture if there ever was one. Yep, we are definitely dealing with a politician. “Yes indeed, young miss. Mayor Mare’s the name. How may I be of service to you today?” Little Whisper and Alabaster glanced at one another. The ivory Pegasus didn’t like this one bit, and she could tell. Something about the diplomat reminded Alabaster too much of a certain used-wagon salespony they had a run in with on the fringes of the Free Pony Cities. ‘Just stand there and keep looking pretty, me boyo,’ Whisper’s expression seemed to say, ‘I got this.’ Alabaster was more than happy to let Whisper take point once more. Though the midlands of Equestria were far more beautiful than anything he had ever known back in the Dragon Lands, Alabaster would pitch a hissy fit if he were to be ejected from yet another town. And the gods know my ass is tender from how many times I've been tossed on it. Little Whisper swallowed her apprehension and began the dance she was all too often forced to play a part of. “Well, as I told your… assistant, we’re new here in Ponyville. We were hoping, actually, to make it our home.” It was now Mayor Mare and Sugar Cube’s turn to share a look. Whisper knew from the slyness in the Mayor’s eyes that they may have just trotted into a trap of some kind. She only prayed that Alabaster hadn’t noticed it. The bullheaded stallion could be quite dangerous if he feels like he’s had the wool pulled over his eyes, and even dangerous still if he thinks that he's been backed into a corner. Without a word, Sugar Cube took her leave. Waiting till the door closed shut behind her, Mayor Mare adjusted her tie once more and said, “I take it you are the three coming from Appaloosa then?” **** The march back to the Crystal Castle was a terribly long and awkward one, thought not so much for Quill or Speira. Corporal Speckled Band took point, acting as the blade tip that parted through the throngs of ponies still bustling about. Every now and then he would glance over a shoulder, just to make sure both his guests were still with them. Quill kept stride with the young soldier and did his best to keep the air between them lively. His protegee, however, only skulked along after them, as quiet as the shadow cast by her teacher. How it unnerved Speckled Band to have such a creature at his rear. Every time Speckled Band dared a peek at the filly, he always found her stony gaze upon him. They would lock eyes for no more than a moment or two before the Corporal would have to veer his attention forward again. There was something about the cold, calculative look in those eyes that made Speckled Band want to shiver. Out of sight was not out of mind, it seemed. A heated chill had perverted the Corporal’s senses. It left his blood icy and his brow sweaty. I wonder if she’s still just staring at me, he thought, trying to focus on the face of a pretty mare who happened to cross their paths. Of course she is. She’s watching me, kind of like how Rover used to watch anypony who came over to the old house. She’s a trained attack dog. It was then that a bit of gossip flittered into Speckled Band’s mind -the Corporal had a nasty tendency to let his troubled mind drift, a habit he hadn't quite yet curbed. Wasn't it only a week or so ago when I had heard about these very two? Yes, it was. He remembered now, for he had been on night patrol with one of the biggest gossips in the Crystal Empire's branch of the Royal Guard. The buzz of the city street subsided and was replaced with the echos of hooves. Speckled Band had been trudging along the darkened castle corridors with Private Cluster, the pony he often times had the misfortune to be paired with for night watch, in tow. Always one for gab was Private Cluster. Speckled Band usually didn’t care much for such talk, as it always seemed to border more on fictional than factual. However, he needed something to break the midnight monotony. “You remember my cousin, Glitter Dust, right?” Private Cluster had asked. “Sure I do,” the Corporal responded, wiping at his weary eyes, “She’s that weird one who tried to get me to model for that Jewelry line for stallions, right? ‘Studs on studs,’ or something, yeah?” “Well… er… yeah…” Private Cluster deflated only, but only for a moment. He was back to his usually yammering self before he could even draw his next breath. “Let’s just not speak of that again, please. Anyways, what I’m trying to tell you is that she was there!” “She was where?” Private Cluster huffed. “What the hell were we just talking about, guy? I know Shining Armor’s got you running laps lately, but come on!” Speckled Band looked at his comrade incredulously. “Are you telling me that your cousin was on the stagecoach that got hit the other day?” “You’re darn right I am. She’s an apprentice under that fop, Astral Gem. Anyways, he sent her to oversee their delivery to Canterlot, cause… you know… he's a freakin’ coward. Anyways, that’s when the coach got shazamed.” Private Cluster drew in a long breath, as if the thought of what came next was almost too much of a labor. “I’m tellin’ ya, Speck, you should hear her talk about it. She’s terrified. Absolutely terrified!” “Well, duh. Highway robbery isn’t exactly a thing that most civilians are prepared for. Scratch that, it's not something anypony is really prepared for.” Private Cluster shook his head. “I’m not talking about the creeps that jumped them, I’m talking about the creeps that were riding with her.” “The sellswords?” The Corporal looked even more puzzled. “What are you going on about?” “What am I going on about? Have you not been listening to what everypony’s saying?” “No, I haven’t.” Then, sternly, Speckled Band added, “And neither should you, Cluster Buck.” Speckled Band had laughed at the way Private Cluster grew flustered by the mark, then was thankful it had shut the half pint up. At the time, he had refused to believe that two people - one of them being a filly, no less- could stand up to an ambush of a half a dozen armed ponies. Everyone wants to start an urban legend nowadays, he had thought. But now, after looking into the chilly killer eyes of the filly behind him, Speckled Band had to wonder. “Something troubling you, Corporal?” Speckled Band could have jumped clear out of his armor. The fool boy had broken the one rule that his drill instructor had beaten into him so fervently: never let your guard down. Though the Corporal knew he had nothing to fear from the mercenaries, so long as the griffin remained amiable and the filly was on a short leash, it didn’t stop a needle of shame and agitation from driving into Speckled Band’s hide. Quill smiled warmly in that weird way that all griffin do, his eyes glittering knowingly. “Forgive me, Corporal, I didn’t mean to startle you.” “You didn’t,” Speckled Band responded tersely, not intending for his temper to flare. He felt the filly’s gaze upon the back of his head sharpen and turn steely. If looks could kill than Speckled Band, son of Home Lockwood, would have dropped dead right then and there. The pegasus ruffled his feathers and did his best to ignore the sensation. If Quill gave any offense, he surely didn’t show it. He simply looked ahead once more. Still smiling.