• Published 16th Nov 2015
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CiderCon Chronicles - SSCiderConOfficial



Super Speedy Cider Con reveals the main backstory to our mascots, how they met, and how this family became united as one. Enjoy! Thanks everypony~

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Chapter 2: Lost and Found

CiderCon Chronicles
Chapter 2: Lost and Found

"We all, at some point in our lives, fall. We shouldn't spend our time trying to avoid falling.
We should spend it finding someone who will help us up."
- Deep Thinker, Author

He awoke suddenly.
"Wait! What are you doing? I..."
He trailed off, realizing he was not still in the hive. A wave of disorientation and fear struck him.
"But where am I?" He looked around, desperately trying to identify familiar landmarks. At the same time, he was trying to piece together what had happened.
His mind was foggy with the lingering effects of the enchanted sleep. He flapped his wings and took off. He flew above the treetops and hovered, looking in every direction clues as to his location.
He found none.
He landed, and sat down. A twig broke under his weight with a loud "SNAP!".
Through the mental haze, a mnemonic connection fell into place.

"P'TACH"

He paled as the memories came flooding back.
"...she banished me...", he chittered dismally.
"...Mother said I was worthless..." He felt the sting of betrayal in his heart, and the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes. "...called me trash..." He began to sob.
"...I... ... tried... ...so... ... hard..., but I wasn't good enough!", he wailed between sobs. Then, he just gave in to it all. He gave in to the fear, the sadness, the sense of betrayal, and the self loathing.
He gave himself over to his emotions like one who has kept them bottled up for too long. He collapsed under their weight, lay down and cried. How long he cried, he couldn't be sure. He cried until his emotions let go of him.
He wiped his tear-reddened eyes, and stood up. A grumble from his insides reminded him that he didn't know how long it was since he'd eaten. The realization caused another wave of dread.

"How will I eat?"

********************

He found himself on the outskirts of yet another pony community. In the time since he had awakened to find himself outside the hive, he tried again and again to feed or find a landmark to lead him to the hive.

He hadn't been successful at either.

Sometimes the ponies he found weren't feeling emotions strong enough to feed from. Sometimes he wasn't able to get close enough. More than once his poor shapeshifting caused him to be found and have to flee.He wasn't sure of how much time had passed, only that he was thinner and weaker than when he began.
"I'm starving." He chitered quietly to himself.

He sat down and looked to the skies, lost in thought.
Then he saw it. The peak of a familiar mountain in the hazy distance. His heart leapt. He knew how to get home! He gathered his strength and leapt into the sky, bound for home.

********************

The peak was indeed the one he remembered, and from there following the way back to the hive was simple. He was afraid, but he had been practicing what he'd say to Mother when he returned.
Surely, he thought, when she sees how emaciated I am she'll take pity on me and take me back. Surely, he convinced himself, she wouldn't want me to starve.
He landed a short distance from the hive because the tree cover was too thick over it to land. The second his hooves touched down, he realized how wrong it felt. Usually at this distance he could feel the hum of activity in the hive. Also strange was the sound of birds singing, and other forest fauna. Usually they wouldn't come this near to the hive. In spite of the rising feeling of dread, he pressed on.

When he came within sight of the hive, his fears were affirmed. There should have been four guards, there were none. The door should have been concealed and closed, it was open. The hive should have pulsed with life and a faint light, but it was still and dark.

It had been abandoned.

Unable to muster the strength to feel emotion, he trudged numbly through the vacant shell that was his home. He wandered through the hive confirming that it was indeed completely empty until, at last, his feet took him "there".
He stood alone in the chamber that had once been Mother's. He looked around dejectedly. He had been holding out hope that there was a note, a message explaining why they had left.
Maybe they'd been attacked and forced to abandon the hive, but left him directions to find them. Maybe some natural disaster had forced them to leave. When he found no such correspondence, he was left with the cold, hard truth.

She didn't ever want him to find them again.

He sighed because it was the only depth of emotion he could scrape together through the hunger and exhaustion. He turned and walked back the way he'd come.
He left the hive and , too exhausted to fly, slogged through the wilderness on foot.
Behind him, the only home he'd ever known faded into the distance. Hope fading with it.

********************

He wasn't sure how long it had been since he left the abandoned hive, only that he was in much worse condition. One night, just a short time ago, he was in a small pony village seeking sustenance.
As he passed by a darkened shop window he saw himself. He was horrified. He was gaunt, almost skin and bone. Not to mention how filthy he was. He looked like the skeletal nightmare image of a changeling that had literally just dug it's way out of a grave.
That night, in his desperation, he had tried "food". He knew dimly that it wouldn't work. Normal food was simply not compatible with a changeling's physiology. He tried it anyway though, just to see if he could gain any benefit from it all. He had , after all, heard tales of ponies in dire situations eating a leather belt or saddlebags to stave off hunger until their situation changed.

He found a flat, square box on top of the trash in somepony's bin. The box was decorated with a mustachioed pony wearing a conical hat with a poofy top. It smelled less repulsive than many of the other things from other bins. He took the box, and disappeared in to the night.
A safe distance away, he opened the box. Inside was a triangular piece of some sort of food with a bite already taken from it. He sniffed it, prodded it with his hoof, and finally took the smallest bite possible.

It was awful.

He couldn't taste the fact that it was a reasonably fresh slice of pizza from a fairly good establishment. Instead, it conjured a memory of falling once and getting a mouthful of mud. To him, the tastes were identical. Still, he continued grimly chewing and swallowing until the slice was gone. For good measure, and since it tasted the same anyway, he ate some of the box as well. Then, he lay down and slept.
The next day, the taste still lingered in his mouth. To add insult to injury, so did his hunger. He'd realized then that eating "food" was apparently not an option.

********************

He was no longer hungry. His body had given up on trying to communicate in growls and gurgles that he needed to eat when it became clear that he wasn't listening.
He put one hoof in front of the other in an endless march. He didn't know where he was going, or if he was going anywhere. He didn't know why he was walking. Nevertheless, on he went.
He walked mechanically, rhythmically. He walked until he became too exhausted, then he slept. When he woke, the march began again. He knew deep inside that soon he would sleep and never wake up again. He didn't feel anything at this realization. It was simply a fact of his condition.

He woke one day to start his seemingly endless monotonous march, but noticed something strange in the air. The sudden cellular awareness of somepony nearby. Somepony watching.
His head swiveled back and forth, trying in vain to find the threat. He had been chased away by ponies too many times to see them as anything but a threat at this point.
He struggled up onto legs that felt like jelly, and hissed at his surroundings. He hoped that his appearance would make him seem like more of a threat than he actually was.

He was rewarded with a gasp from the underbrush nearby, and the sound of rustling leaves.

To his surprise, instead of running, the colt that had been hiding stood and started walking towards him.
The colt walked slowly and fearlessly.

The changeling tried to turn and flee, but his body had reached it's limit. Legs that would simply not respond buckled beneath him. He fall onto his side and lay there, panting.

The little pony stopped a few paces away and looked the changeling over.

There were tears at the corners of the colt's eyes when he said
"Sugar and Saltlicks, you're in bad shape..."
"I'm not gonna hurt ya'. Mama taught me we should care for the ones 'at can't take care o' themselves. "
Then the colt extended a hoof towards the changeling just like he might to a stray cat, or unfamiliar dog, and said:

"My name's Bramley, what's yours?"

********************