Trixie And Her Amazing Pet Changeling

by Georg


6. Fare Thee Well

Fare Thee Well


Question liked mornings, or at least mornings like this one.

Well, except for the chilly clouds full of sleet that the weatherponies were stacking up in the sky about three deep. The resulting sharp gusts of chilly air blew in underneath the fringe of his garish coat, making the changeling only that much more aware of what a long, cold, and muddy trip he had ahead of him.

He had a lot of time to think about it while standing in his warm advertising robe on the front step of the shabby rental cottage with his leash loosely tied to the nearby wagon. As a ‘guardchangeling,’ all he needed to do was wait for his ‘owner’ to get back from a few quick chores this morning before the two of them were to hit the road and be on their way to warm Puerto de Caballo. Or at least that was where Trixie was headed by herself, once they had gotten far enough away from this town to go their separate ways.

Every few minutes between the chilly gusts of wind, a group of the young townsponies who had not managed to meet or feed the ‘fierce feral changeling’ yesterday would sneak by and go through the ritual of depositing bits into his pouch, rubbing his ears, and feeding him a sugarcube. Then they would scurry away, chattering to each other the way young children of all races and types did whenever unsupervised by far more serious adults.

He was going to miss this, but he knew that trying to stay in town after Trixie left was a Very Bad Idea that would wind up with him inside a frosty jail cell when they found out his true nature. They would probably send out an arrest warrant for Trixie too, and that would suck, because he was just getting to like the crabby blue pest with the complicated emotional aura, who was much like a traveling multicultural buffet without nametags on the food items.

The faint scent of wasabi and white peppers wafted over the emotional sea of the town, leaving Question to sit attentively on the cold cabin step and gaze longingly in her direction, much like a dog pining for the return of his master. The tip of her purple hat came into view above the thin crowd of ponies first, rapidly followed by the chunky blue unicorn and a small flurry of last-minute purchases floating in her magic.

“Good boy,” cooed Trixie, untying him and opening up the wagon door. “Now hop in. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us, and no chewing on the furniture this time.”

As requested, Question hopped up into the wagon, followed by Trixie. She closed the door and concentrated, her hornglow filling the small room with a cheery pale glow. “No eavesdropping spells.”

Likewise, the changeling also was concentrating with his eyes closed. “Nopony within range to listen in. Did you get the map I asked about?”

“Yes, yes,” grumbled Trixie, shoving the unfolded piece of paper over into his hooves. “There’s a crossroads just a few dozen furlongs outside of town.” She scowled while the changeling rapidly folded the roadmap back up and studied the thin lines of dirt roads headed in all directions.

“Sheesh. This isn’t the end of the world, but I’ll bet you can get there from here,” he groused. “Hope I’ve got enough love socked away to make it to the next food source… I mean pony town.”

“The news is far worse.” Trixie threw the newspaper she was carrying onto the floor of the cramped room.

“What?” The changeling turned his head almost upside-down to read. “Oh, no! There’s a sale on pickled beets at the market! What shall we do?”

“Not that!” Trixie picked up the paper and folded a few pages back, revealing a page that was mostly covered in symbols of ice cubes and snowflakes. “The weather.”

“Rain, snow, rain, snow, sleet, hair, that must be a misprint for hail,” said Question. “More sleet, and even more sleet. What, was Cloudsdale running a sale on misery?”

“They’ve got freezing downpours scheduled all over every single one of Trixie’s southern paths out of town,” scowled Trixie. “Even the muddy track this corner of inequanity calls a ‘highway’ to Baltimare.” She muttered under her breath. “Make one comment about Commander Hurricane being a blowhard, and every pegasus get so pissy.”

“Do you think we could cut north for a few days and head for Vanhoover?” Question held the map next to the newspaper weather report and cross-checked the schedule. “Once we get just outside of there, you go one way and I go another. It would be just like we planned, only a little colder.”

“A lot colder.” Trixie pulled her cape a little closer around her shoulders to the sound of a well-concealed bit pouch giving off a heavy clunk. “Trixie was looking forward to a nice, hot spa with her bits.”

The changeling flipped a few pages on the local newspaper and paused. “How about a hot mud bath?”

“Certainly,” murmured Trixie. “And a hot jacuzzi.”

“Hot young spa employees?” said Question.

“Oh, yeah,” sighed Trixie. She paused and gave him a sharp frown. “I meant… steam baths. Yes, steam baths.” She craned her neck to see what the changeling was reading. “What’s that?”

“Oh, now you’re asking the questions?” said Question without looking up from his close inspection of the advertisement.

“Let me see that,” snapped Trixie. They struggled over the paper briefly until reaching a compromise position. “Crystal Empire,” murmured Trixie.

“Spa!” said the changeling, tapping one holey hoof against the small print in the advertisement for the distant city/state/empire. “And they allow pets.”

“Trixie remembers her good friend Twilight Sparkle once performing some small act of heroism there.” Trixie fidgeted slightly while adding, “It was in all of the papers.”

“The Crystal Heart protects the empire with the power of love,” said the changeling while reading the small print. “It says the entire city is kept warm under a dome of magic even during the coldest winter. Hm….”

Trixie nodded. “You know, that sheriff seemed determined to keep Trixie under surveillance in the futile hope of finding some law she has accidentally broken. He may have even sent word to the surrounding towns. Perhaps someplace distant and exotic would be a nice change.”

“If nothing else, there’s a pet-friendly spa there.” Question held a hoof to his collar and bounced it, making his registration tags and vaccination records jingle. “There’s going to be a lot of ponies there who have never heard of you. Or us. Both of us.” He jingled his collar again.

With a distant look, Trixie murmured, “Rich tourists, looking for entertainment. Gullible locals, trying to see something new.”

Question nodded. “Small local foals lined up with bits and sugarcubes, in awe over the Great and Powerful Trixie’s pet changeling.”

Feral changeling.” Trixie paused, looking contemplative. “Seventy-five, twenty-five?”

“Fifty-fifty,” said Question, trying not to smile at the warm burst of love Trixie was emitting.

You get love out of the deal,” pointed out Trixie. “Seventy-thirty.”

“It’s going to be very cold on the trip, and changelings don’t do well in the snow. Forty-sixty.”

“Deal,” said Trixie. “Provided you pull the wagon. It’ll keep you warm.”

“Me?” Question pointed at himself with the most innocent expression he could muster. “That thing is heavy. It takes a really powerful pony to pull it.”

“Hm…” Trixie made a great deal out of stroking her chin. If it were possible for her to grow a beard just to have another prop, Question was thinking she would have done that ages ago. “Perhaps I should find a stronger changeling. One who can keep his holey hooves to himself.”

“I’ll pull part of the time,” said the changeling. “Otherwise, I would just be burning love. And I’ll cook.” He stuck out a hoof. “Deal?”

With apparent great reluctance, Trixie stuck out a hoof and shook, although she scowled at the expression on the changeling’s face.

“Why are you grinning at Trixie?”

Question could not help it. His grin grew broader. “Aren’t you going to say it?”

“Say what?”

Question waggled an eyebrow ridge. “This looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Shut up and pull the wagon.”