I dreamt of stars.
Five bright points circled in the sky above me. They danced around each other merrily to the sound of a cheerful fiddle. I felt the urge to join them, and as soon as I thought it, there I was! A new star joined the five others and that star was me! And together we danced, for days on end, watching the sun rise and fall from our lofty perch. Together we laughed. Together we traded stories. Together we found happiness.
Then, one of the stars exploded.
It was so sudden. So violent. So sad.
Six stars became five.
As the dust of the supernova settled, another of the stars turned red. For a while, the other four of us feared that it, too, would explode, but instead, the star fell from the sky like a rock, hitting the earth below with an impact that we could feel even from our place in the sky.
Four stars remained.
Another star turned blue, the black, then winked out entirely.
Three.
I reached out to the two remaining stars still with me. There were still three of us, still enough to finish the party… The pair hesitated. Then one of them fled for another part of the sky. The second waited a second longer, then went to follow her friend.
Two.
One.
I was left alone.
And with no reason to stay, I allowed myself to also fall…
My eyes fluttered open. I was awake!
But I was still falling.
Clouds passed me as silvery blurs in the light of the full moon. I felt myself lucky; not every pony is so privileged to be allowed such a beautiful end.
I hit the ground. Death felt surprisingly soft. A scream filled my ears, and I realized I wasn’t dead just yet. I very much doubted corpses could get migraines.
“What the hell are ya? What do ya think you’re doing on *my* cloud?”
A red blob entered my foggy vision… and I was pretty sure this one wasn’t blood.
“Ooh, wait!” the voice hissed excitedly. “Are you a unicorn? The boss is gonna just love this!”
I finally lost the fight for consciousness, a thousand questions running through my throbbing skull. But among all those questions, one stood out, repeating over and over, and it was one I wasn’t able to answer, although I felt I should be.
Who… am I?
I woke up lying on a soft bed, the golden light of the day pouring through the open windows. Groaning, I reached out with my magic, pulling at the blinds.
An explosion of pain erupted in my skull. I no longer felt tired per say, but was now becoming increasingly concerned I might simply pass out. When the spots in my eyes finally cleared and my ears finally stopped ringing, I saw a small, red creature cackling softly to itself.
“The boss said ya really shouldn’t be trying anything like that,” the creature said. With a surprising amount of speed, the tiny thing scurried across the room and onto my bed… wait, was it my bed? I guessed that, technically, the bed probably belonged to that “boss” pony that creature kept referring to.
“Before this conversation goes any further,” I said, “I have a few questions.”
The thing rolled its cat-like eyes. “Fine, whatever.” The voice was definitely female. And young. It felt like I was talking with a filly. A filly with claws and dark red scales that covered her entire body.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The creature smiled, showing off an assortment of small, needle-like teeth.
“The name’s Scarlette. Best remember it, too, cause you and me’ll be working together for some time, if the boss has anything to say about it.”
“Okay then, Scarlette, that leads nicely into my next question: who is ‘the boss’?”
Scarlette frowned, as if this were something I should already know. Although, seeing as how I couldn’t even remember my own name, it seemed like a rather unreasonable expectation to me.
“The boss is the boss,” she said cryptically.
“Is that all I’m going to get out of you? No name? gender? species, even?”
“Uh…” Scarlette tapped her chin. “Nope.”
I gave her my best deadpan, which was unfortunately ruined as another wave of agony from around my forehead caused me to wince.
“Ouch, damnit! What the hell did your ‘boss’ do to my magic?”
The little monster sneered and said, “Oh, the boss didn’t have a thing to do with that. Ya somehow managed to screw yourself on that account before I even laid a claw on ya.”
Scarlette skittered off into what I assumed was the bathroom. When she came back, she had her tail wrapped around the handle of a hand mirror.
“See for yourself,” she said.
I did. I was *not* happy with what I saw.
“Celestia-damn… how the hell did that happen?”
“Not a clue,” Scarlette said. “The boss’d be quite interested in knowing, too. Alicorn isn’t a metal known for its brittleness.”
Even with most of my forehead covered in bandages, I could still see the broken remains of a horn. From the dried brown stains on the bandages, it looked as though the appendage had actually exploded, fragments of the shattered horn shooting out in all directions and some, unluckily for me, lodging themselves back into my skull in spots where they didn’t belong.
“Not that I’m complaining, but how exactly am I still alive?”
“Because the boss wanted you alive,” Scarlette explained shortly.
I almost face-hoofed, but decided against it at the last second. The last thing my head needed was blunt trauma on top of all the cuts and burns.
“Considering how helpful you’ve been so far,” I said, “I somehow doubt you’d be able to help me with this last little conundrum I’m facing, but… who am I?”
Scarlette opened her maw to respond. Then closed it again, looking at me thoughtfully for a moment.
“… I asked the boss the same thing, ‘Who is this crazy mare what dropped out of the sky?’ And the boss said, ‘A pony who’s lost anyone who could truly answer that question...’”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” we both asked at once.
There was an awkward pause.
“… So, what did ‘the boss’ tell you to do with me?” I asked.
“I’m to look after ya. Make sure ya don’t go getting into trouble.” Scarlette snorted and a wisp of smoke blew out of her slitted nostrils. “If the scars covering your skull are any indication, it looks like I’ll really be earning my keep on this job.”
I giggled despite my aching head. “Yep, sure does.”
The moment was cut off by the sound of hoofsteps outside.
“Shit,” Scarlette hissed.
“Wait,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
Scarlette tapped her claws together nervously. “Well… I couldn’t exactly drag ya far, you being a helluva lot bigger than I am, and when you landed, I was already in the middle of a job that involved infiltrating moderately-hostile territory.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean when you say ‘moderately hostile’?”
The door exploded in a shower of splinters as the pegasus pony bucked his way inside.
“Well, this is where we part ways for a little bit, Ms. Amnesia. We’ll meet up somewhere where ponies *aren’t* trying to tie us up and electrocute us until we tell them everything we know… Although, in your case, that’s not a whole lot, is it? Best of luck!”
With that, Scarlette dived for a vent, a small orb of fire blasting its grate to pieces as she entered the ducts. If only I could escape that easily.
Despite my protesting horn, I magically levitated my blanket off of me and wrapped it around the pegasus’ head. That confused him just long enough for my vision to clear again and me to leap across the room and out the window. It was at that point that I realized a couple of flaws with my plan. There were several minor points that could have been better thought out or executed, but the main one was that I had just jumped out of a building that happened to be positioned on a cloud. Specifically, on the edge of a cloud. And my window happened to be on the side of the building facing the edge, which allowed me an amazing view of a wide open plain as I fell to my death. And throughout all of these realizations, I had the strangest feeling of déjà-vu.
If I weren’t too stunned to say anything, I’m sure the last thing the pegasus heard me scream as he wrestled the blanket off his face would have been, “Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-”
Well, mystery number one solved. I finally figured out how I survived my fall! Clouds make for a surprisingly soft landing. Now if I could just ignore the chorus of voices in my head screaming about how many laws of nature that broke, I’d be able to enjoy my unlikely survival.
Ignoring physics for the time being, I took the moment to observe my surroundings. I was on a small cloud roughly the size of a carriage. It appeared as though this cloud had broken off from the much larger bunch of clouds behind me. Those clouds formed what looked to be a city, and I thought I could make out the exact building I’d jumped from. It helped that there was a confused-looking pegasus poking his head out one of the windows on the top floor. It looked like some kind of hotel.
Besides the floating city, the skies were mostly clear, allowing an unobstructed view of the plains below, and also of… what the hell? Directly beneath the sky city was a tree. A *big* tree. Like, its branches reached up into the clouds that made up the sky city, big.
“Yep, it sure is a sight.”
I nearly jumped off the cloud.
Scarlette poked her head up through the cloud I was sitting on. “Hiya!”
“Wha- what are you doing?!” I yelled. “And how are you doing that?”
Scarlette rolled her eyes and grabbed one of my hooves, and despite her meager amount of weight, she started dragging me through the cloud. I fought to keep my purchase, but my other hooves sank as if into quicksand. I fell… for about half a second. After that I landed clumsily on one the branches of the tree I’d just been examining. Apparently, instead of leaves—which I could see many of the lower branches ended in—this relatively thin branch ended in the cloud I’d landed on.
“This tree… grows clouds?”
Scarlette tried rolling her eyes again, but they ended up crossed instead. She slapped the side of her head a few times to get the amber beads back where they belonged.
“Damnit!” she said. “Ya’ve asked too many dumb questions in too short a time. Just shut up, follow me, and save all pointless queries for someone who actually cares enough to answer them.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Scarlette shot me a glare that, on an adult member of her species, would have petrified me just as surely as any cockatrice. As it was, it just made her look pouty.
“We’re going someplace relatively safe.” She countered my pointless query with a vague, uninformative answer. The score was tied.
And so I followed the little serpent down the winding branch, a million other questions that I knew she wasn’t in the mood to answer floating through my still-pounding skull. I passed the walk trying to come up with some of the answers myself.
Why was that pegasus trying to capture us? I assumed that it had something to do with us trespassing somewhere we weren’t supposed to be. So why was Scarlette there in the first place? She said she had been on a job for ‘the boss’, but what job was that exactly? Reconnaissance? Theft? Sabotage? Assassination!? I looked over my escort again, remembering the way she had so easily fit into that vent. It was impossible to narrow it down without knowing more about what she was capable of.
So moving on, who was her boss? Someone with a lot of power, I suspected. Someone who could get their hooves/claws/??? on a baby dragon. And why did this person, with all of his/her power, care about little old me? Was I that important? Or perhaps I was merely a curiosity, a unicorn with no memory and a broken horn who fell from the sky, and this boss wants to know the how and why. I could empathize with that.
And just who was I? Were there any clues that might help me? My eyes widened at a sudden spark of enlightenment. My cutie mark! I could simply—
… My flank was completely blank.
I spun around, checked both sides, tried pulling back the coat to see if maybe a layer of hair had simply grown over it somehow… It just wasn’t there. Scarlette noticed that I’d fallen behind and yelled at me for slowing us down. I galloped to catch up… well, I trotted quickly, noting how narrow the branch seemed this high up, even if it technically *was* broad enough for three ponies to walk down it side-by-side, unhindered.
Lastly, and most immediately important, where were we going exactly? And how were we going to get down from this mammoth of a tree? It wasn’t like there were any stairs that we could—
Oh. Sweet. Celestia.
Scarlette had led me through a hole bored into the side of the tree right above the branch… and into someplace that looked like it belonged in a fairytale.
“Welcome,” Scarlette announced, “to the Trunk!”
I was completely speechless. The sights! The sounds! The smells! The—
“The Trunk?”
Scarlet waved a claw. “That’s just what the locals call it. Its official name is like, Egg-Daffodil, or something. Definitely foreign. Probably zebra, seeing as it was one of them that grew this whole thing.”
‘This whole thing’ referred to the city built inside the giant tree. From what I could tell, the city was made up of buildings that were physically carved out of the inside of the tree’s trunk and an enormous walkway that spiraled like a corkscrew around the interior of the tree. This left a relatively small hole going all the way from the tree’s roots to its uppermost levels, and a circle had been carved out directly above so that sunlight could get in during the day, but also so that an elevator, made entirely out of clouds, could run from bottom to top, carrying anypony who didn’t want to walk the gently-inclined slope that spun through the trunk to wherever they needed to be.
Clearly whoever designed this city had to have been one part alchemic expert, one part architectural genius, and one part out of their Celestia-damned mind!
Scarlette, having finally grown bored of watching me stand with my jaw hanging loose like some halfwit tourist, snapped her tail like a whip to draw my attention.
“Look, we have places to be. We don’t have time for sightseeing.”
I nodded reluctantly. As much as I wanted to explore, it seemed we had other, more pressing priorities… or at least, the only creature I knew who could guide me around the sprawling labyrinth of buildings, stalls, and branches did, and I got the feeling I didn’t want to be trotting around this place unsupervised. Trouble and I seemed to have a knack for finding each other. So with that in mind, I followed silently behind Scarlette, quietly observing the surrounding city’s day-to-day bustle.
“Okay, can I ask just one more question?”
“I’m guessing ya won’t let me get out of this by pointing out that ya technically just did.” Scarlette sighed. “Fine, what is it.”
“What are those weird pony-like things made out of wood?”
All around the city, I saw creatures made out of twigs and branches walking around. Some were working on buildings, so were sweeping the streets clean, and so on. But none of them appeared to pay the slightest bit of attention to the ponies around them who, for their part, seemed to actively make way for the wooden constructs.
“Oh, those?” Scarlette waved a claw dismissively. “Those are just oakhooves. Long as you don’t get in their way and you’ll be fine.”
“And if I do get in their way?”
Scarlette gave me a very stern look and said, “*Don’t.*”
I nodded, only a little bit less confused than I had been previously.
We continued walking.
…
……
“Okay, I lied,” I said. “I have another question.”
“What’s it now?” Scarlette snapped.
“Where’s the little filly’s room?”
Scarlette waved her arm in an all-encompassing gesture.
“In this place? Anywhere nopony’s looking. Just find an empty alleyway and go there.”
My face became contorted in an expression of disgust.
“Hey! I think we just learned something about your identity!” Scarlette said excitedly.
“What? Really?”
“Yeah! Whoever ya were, it was a complete and utter snob!”
I shot her a glare. She laughed it off.
“Fine,” I said. “But if I get some kind of esoteric disease while I’m doing my business, I’ll be breaking one of *your* horns.”
Scarlette waited for me outside the alley. It was by no means the ideal place to be taking a rest stop, what with the piles of garbage lining both sides, but it was empty, and that was good enough for me. I was just about to go about my business when one of the piles of trash started to move.
“G’d mornin’ there miss!” the pile said to me. The trash fell aside and standing in its place was a blue-coated unicorn with a knife cutie mark levitating three daggers. “I think ya hav’ some gold f’r me.”
I stared awkwardly at the mugger.
“Er… can you come back later? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
The mugger examined the situation.
“Oh… okay then.” He began digging back into the pile of trash…
Then he jumped right back out, holding the three daggers to my throat.
“I mean: That’s too bad! Now give me all yer gold!”
Using a simple levitation spell—and ignoring the pain it sent through my skull—I dislodged a piece of debris on the other side of the alley, causing a pile of garbage to fall over and drawing the mugger’s attention away from me for a crucial instant.
In that instant, I let out a whistle to get Scarlette’s attention and focused all the magic I could manage on pulling the three daggers from the mugger’s telekinetic grasp. In that moment, I grew a newfound respect for the pony trying to rob me; it’s a lot harder than it looks to split one’s focus across three separate objects and move them independently of each other.
Attempting the same trick myself was too much work for my aching head. The mugger quickly regained control over his knives, pushing two of them against my throat until I could feel tiny droplets of blood running down my chest. The third knife pinned down Scarlette’s tail as she ran to my aid, and although it didn’t look like the blade actually managed to pierce her thick hide, it still managed to hold her back.
“Damnit! How th’ fuck d’ ya do magic with a broke horn? Shouldn’t even be possible!”
I frowned. I mean sure, casting spells made my head feel like there was a swarm of angry wasps flying around in it, but it wasn’t impossible for me by any means. And actually, from watching the way he carried his knives, I thought I’d finally pieced together how to do it myself. Now if I could just concentrate…
No… if I could just relax…
I closed my eyes and stopped trying to force the blades into my control. An echo of a memory surfaced. Me and… somepony else… teaching me how to juggle? I just had to stop thinking. *Feel* where the balls were… and…
I heard a yelp from the mugger.
While I had my eyes closed, I had somehow managed to take the knives from his control and had started… juggling them. What the hell?
Fortunately, my little performance was distracting enough to pull the mugger’s attention away from my companion. Scarlette let out a small burst of fire, roasting the unicorn’s tail and sending him running for his life.
I let the daggers fall to the ground.
“Huh,” I said. “That was… interesting.”
“That was stupid, a complete waste of our time, and a dangerous risk,” Scarlette countered.
“Well do we actually have any money on us?” I asked.
“Don’t look at me. I’m broke ‘til the boss pays me for my last job.”
“And what was that he was saying about it being impossible for me to cast magic?”
Scarlette shook her head. “I dunno, but it’s a good thing we know about that now. If everypony thinks you can’t cast magic, they’ll think you’re easy prey and they’ll try t’ take our stuff every chance they get.”
Scarlette took an old, brown blanket from one of the piles of trash.
“Here, wear this. If you shape it into a hood, it should hide your horn.”
I tried it out.
“Great! Looks like it should be long enough to cover your flank, too. Saw some ponies lookin’ at ya funny as we walked past. Seemed a bit put-off by your lack of a mark.”
“I smell like a dump,” I said.
“Yeah, but now it’s less likely ya’ll be tossed into one with your purse stolen and your throat slit.”
I sighed. “Fine. I’ll wear the rag. Happy?”
“I will be when we finally get someplace safe.” Scarlette paused. “Relatively safe,” she amended. “Alrighty then, let’s go!”
“Finally,” Scarlette said at last. “We’re here!”
‘Here’ apparently referred to an inn somewhere around the tree’s center level. It was an… alright place I guessed. The partially-faded paint on the sign next to the door marked the place as ‘The Weary Hoof’, and from the number of beggars and… mares of questionable repute around the door, I had to assume that the place got a reasonable amount of traffic. Scarlette led me right past the various ponies asking for our bits and into the building.
Inside, the first thing that struck me was the amount of variety among the patrons. There were earth ponies, pegasi, and more unicorns like myself (only with their horns, marks, and, presumably, minds completely intact), but there were also several other species I hadn’t seen very much of outside. Donkeys, griffins, zebras, all were present and then some. And there were other species I wasn’t even quite sure the names of: birds with flames where their feathers should be, ponies with bat-like wings, and I’m sure I saw at least one pony half-submerged in a tub of water, her head rested against one side with a tankard pressed to its lips, and her fish-like tail flopping out the other end.
And somehow, they still managed to make *me* feel like the one out of place.
“What’s that you got following you, eh Scarlette?” a buck with bat wings and a patch over one of his eyes called from across the room. “I didn’t think you’d be one to lug damaged wares around.”
I shot my escort what I hoped was a dangerous look.
“You sell ponies?”
Scarlette returned fire with what was most definitely a dangerous look at the mere suggestion.
“*I* don’t. I’m more of a rubies and sapphires kind o’ girl… But some ponies will trade anything, sentience just being listed as an added feature.”
I stole another glance at the bat pony who’d spoken out.
“Is that even legal?” I whispered to Scarlette.
“Anything’s legal, long as the Watch don’t catch ya doing it… but I have my limits as to how far I’m willing to push that. Those bucks over there? Not so much.”
I followed Scarlette past the pony without so much as a word, but he wasn’t the only one who’d taken interest in the mysterious stranger that just walked in. I could feel several pairs of eyes boring into the back of my skull.
Scarlette hopped up on the counter of the inns bar and rang a small bell there. The innkeeper was there in seconds.
The striped pony spoke in a deep voice with a slight accent to it. “How can I help—Ah, Red One! It is you! I am quite pleased to be seeing you once again!”
“Oh, Ezekiel, it’s you,” Scarlette said through a forced smile. “And I can hear—see that I’ve caught you in a good mood. Say, could I speak to your daughter?”
Ezekiel threw back his head and laughed. I swear each laugh caused my bones to shake a little bit, which didn’t do anything for my still-present headache. I was desperately waiting for that ache to fade, but it just kept coming back with a vengeance.
“I will go and tell her of your arrival!” the zebra bellowed. “But first, who is the Broken One you bring with you?”
Scarlette glared back at me.
What? What did I—Oh crap! I’d accidentally taken my hood off out of habit when we entered. I once again had to restrain myself from performing a face-hoof.
“Oh, she’s no one. Just a… an associate.”
“One of your ‘boss’’ underlings, eh!”
Scarlette winced as if she’d just been kicked.
“Hey, keep it down about the boss, alright?” she hissed.
Ezekiel turned and went into the back room, either not hearing or simply not caring. After a second or two, he returned saying—very loudly—that his daughter would gladly see a long time patron of the inn.
“Alrighty then. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone, eh ‘Broken One’?”
I’m pretty sure that with those words, she jinxed any chance I ever had of actually *not* getting into any trouble. As soon as Scarlette left, I decided to familiarize myself with some of the kinds of pon—people I’d be meeting around this city.
I saw a lone old stallion with a fork and knife cutie mark sitting at a table alone and decided he looked safe enough to talk with. I ordered a drink from Ezekiel and pulled up a stool next to the elderly pony.
“So…” I said, “how did you end up here?”
The old pony smiled at me, and through his lips I saw a row of teeth that would have look much more at home in Scarlette’s mouth. I had to fight the urge to up and run as his mouth opened and he began to speak/
“D’you know why thish plashe is called ‘The Weary Hoof’?”
I shook my head, still trying not to stare at the old guy’s fangs.
“It’sh ‘cause thish is where all the travelers, ‘venturers, an’ wanderers go when we getsh too tired to take another shtep.”
“So which are you?” I asked. “Traveler, wanderer, or adventurer?”
The stallion grinned. It was unsurprisingly unsettling.
“Oh, I’m none of them. I’m just looking to see if there’sh any fresh meat ‘twould be willing t’ join me fer dinner.”
I forced a smile and nodded, as if what he said didn’t sound like a thinly-veiled invitation to death.
“Well… I’ll just… be someplace else…”
I got up to leave, but the old guy wrapped his hooves around one of mine.
“Has anypony ever told you your eyesh are the most absholutely *delectable* shade of gray?”
I was about to use what little telekinetic strength I had left to beat the old coot over the head with my tankard when somepony else went ahead and did it for me.
“Nopony is being turned into a Diomedian delicacy on *my* watch.” The speaker was an electric-blue pegasus with a hammer on her flank and a badge on her chest. At her sides were a griffin with white down and a brassy coat and a bat-pony with a lavender coat and a guillotine cutie mark.
The stallion fell over on his butt and scrambled to get away from the unexpected defenders. The griffin grabbed a claw-full of the pony’s tail and dragged him toward her until their faces were inches apart.
“You get one warning. Next time we catch you tryin’ to pull a stunt like that, we’ll let Dulla decide what we should do with you.” The griffin pointed a thumb over at the bat pony behind her. The pony called Dulla grinned at the buck, revealing her own pair of fangs.
The old pony gulped and nodded. The griffin let go of his tail and watched as he stumbled out of the doors and back onto the street.
“You all right?” the pegasus pony asked me.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said.
“Doesn’t look all right to me,” the griffin said.
The pegasus looked me over again. “Actually, Fury’s right; you look like crap. What’d you do to your horn?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Ah, amnesia,” the pegasus mare said thoughtfully. “Must’ve been a head injury. Looks recent. About how long into the past can you remem—ouch!”
The bat pony flicked the pegasus’ ear with her leathery wing and glared at her meaningfully.
“Oh, sorry. Dulla’s right, we should really officially introduce ourselves. The one with bat wings is Dullahan, she’s an executioner.”
Dullahan gave me a smile that was surprisingly friendly considering the fact that she was an executioner with teeth that looked like they were built to suck blood from necks and talk vith and accent that vould make you vant to stab the speaker vith a stake.
“Then the one with the loins of a lion—”
“Damnit, I told you to stop saying that. It wasn’t even all that clever the *first* dozen times…”
“—that’s Fury. She’s our interrogator. And I’m Valkyrie, our investigator.” The mare started scratching her mane. “So please forgive me if I have a tendency to start asking questions like I’m trying to figure out whodunit.”
“Oh, it’s no problem…”
We all stood there, staring at each other, for some time.
“So, uh, you gonna tell us who you are or what?” Fury eventually asked.
“Oh, well, er… I don’t really know the answer to that.”
Fury’s claw shot out instantly, grabbing a claw-full of my mane and pulling my head back. Seriously, was the universe *trying* to prolong my headache for as long as physically possible?
“Looks to me like we’ve got a changeling in our claws,” she said.
Valkyrie rolled her eyes. “Or we’ve got a pony suffering from a severe bout of amnesia brought on by an exploding fucking horn.”
Fury eased up her grip, but only slightly.
“Maybe. Or maybe this one just made it look like its horn was broken so it could use that as an excuse for any of its odd behavior.”
The pegasus guard tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s possible… but really, are you seriously going to go through the whole messy process of interrogating her just to find out which it is?”
Fury shrugged. “Can’t be too careful where changelings are involved. Often by the time anyone spots the deceitful bastard, they’ve already left a dozen lifeless, loveless husks in their wake.”
“She is most definitely *not* a changeling,” an unfamiliar voice asserted firmly.
Fury froze.
Dulla gasped excitedly.
“Ah,” Valkyrie said with a hint of distaste, “is that you, Flea?”
Rising from a nearby table was perhaps the strangest pony I’d seen yet. Although a cloak concealed most of his body, I could still make out eyes that looked like he’d stolen them from a dragonfly, skin that was more like a carapace, a teal beard that had somehow managed to grow what seemed to be natural holes in it, and—I think I’m beginning to see a pattern here—large fangs protruding from his mouth.
The old… thing, caught my staring eyes and bowed his head to me respectfully.
“Er… what *are* you exactly?”
The one called Flea chuckled. “See? Were she truly a changeling, her first action would have been to try and choke me until I died.”
“No complaints here,” Fury muttered.
Dulla frowned and stomped a hoof down on one of Fury’s paws.
“Yeow! What the hell Dulla!?”
Valkyrie sighed. “That, Half-horn, is Flea. He’s a changeling.”
“Well, I don’t tend to do much *changing* these days, eh?”
“So you claim.”
A look of mock hurt crossed Flea’s face. “What? You don’t trust me?”
“Even other changelings don’t trust you!” Fury said. “Seems like a pretty good reason to be suspicious t’ me.”
Flea tut-tutted. “So you would truly trust the distrust of those you don’t trust?”
Valkyrie frowned. “I find that treating any anomaly with suspicion until I have concrete evidence as to whether or not I should believe it is the safest choice.”
“You trusted me,” I interrupted.
Valkyrie gave me a surprised look.
“I’m pretty much the definition of an anomaly—a unicorn with no horn, no memory, and the survival instincts of a lemming—and yet you decided to defend me while Fury was trying to figure out who and what I was.”
“I considered her accusations and found them baseless. That is all.”
I shook my head. “No, you actively tried to talk her down and convince her to leave me alone. You gave me the benefit of the doubt, regardless of my oddities. The least you could do is let him explain his position… And besides, Dullahan seems to like him well enough.”
It was true. At the moment, Flea and Dulla seemed to be having a silent conversation, Dulla miming things out and Flea altering his shape slightly in place of exchanging words. As I watched, I saw Flea take on the guise of a filly Dullahan, then double his size.
You’ve grown bigger since the last time I saw you.
Dulla let out a silent giggle and used her hooves to stretch the skin of her face.
And you’ve grown wrinkly-er.
Flea chuckled and altered his shape so he looked about a hundred years older than he actually was.
The two cackled together.
“Excuse me?” I interrupted.
“What!?” Flea yelled in the voice of an old stallion. “What’d ya want, granddaughter?”
“What exactly is it about changelings that makes everypony else so wary of them?”
Instead of answering, Flea just smiled and changed his form yet again, and I found myself looking at… well, myself.
“Wha—”
Seeing him turn into somepony else was one thing, but facing down a perfect clone of myself was just… creepy.
Flea quickly changed back. “It is an ability all changelings have from the moment they are born. It makes others cautious, thinking that perhaps the ponies around them are not who—or what—they appear to be.”
Fury snorted. “And that’s the *least* disturbing thing about ‘em.”
Flea nodded sadly.
“That is true, unfortunately. In addition to being able to take on the appearance of others, changelings have… a rather disconcerting diet…”
“Well so did that pony that just tried to eat me, it can’t be any worse than that, can it?”
The old changeling seemed to grow older without even using his abilities. He turned his head towards Valkyrie.
“I think she may require a… demonstration.”
Valkyrie’s eyes narrowed.
“Fine. But if you get out of hoof, let me assure you that it will be a very short demonstration indeed…”
I thought I saw a flash of anger play across Flea’s face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Thank you,” the changeling muttered. He then turned to me. “So, because this is only a demonstration, it won’t require anything important… Are you hungry?”
I thought about it for a second, then nodded. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. Stupid amnesia.
Flea turned his head once more to Valkyrie. Then he closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. It was over before I could tell what was happening, but suddenly, everypony around me visibly relaxed.
“So,” Flea said, “still hungry?”
“Well ye—” I thought about it again. “… Actually, no. I’m not.”
The old changeling nodded. “And that was simply a desire that I took—don’t worry, it will come back in time. But imagine if I’d taken more than a simple desire for food. What if I fed upon your actual *love*?
“That is what makes changelings beings of nightmares. In the old times, it was not uncommon for a mother raising her baby foal to grow weaker and weaker with each passing month. And then, as she lay on her deathbed, completely drained, she’d see the most terrifying sight as her beloved baby girl transformed into a grinning changeling foal. The mother had been giving the child all of her love, and the thing that had taken her child’s place had been drinking it up like milk in a bottle.
“Changelings are truly some of the most despicable monstrosities to ever plague the land of Equestria…”
I frowned. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”
Flea chuckled. “Ha ha ha. Thank you child. It does my black, withered heart good to hear you say that.”
Dullahan, a sad look on her face, walked slowly up to Flea and wrapped her hooves around him in a hug.
“You are right though; I am a rather strange changeling. As it stands, I have actually made a vow to not feed on another pony’s love for the rest of my life.”
“Won’t you starve?” I asked.
Flea smiled. “Oh no. Love is simply what powers a changeling’s magic abilities. To be honest, doing the few little stunts I pulled today has taken a lot out of me, and taking your desire for a daisy sandwich hasn’t done much to replenish my reserves. But enough about me. I’m curious as to what you’re story is, Demicorn.”
“You and me both. All I remember is falling, landing on a cloud, falling unconscious, and then waking up to find myself being dragged around by a baby dragon like a dog on a leash.”
Flea looked me over thoughtfully.
“Well, this is quite an interesting predicament you’ve found yourself in. No name. No memories. Perhaps your mark could at least identify what your calling once was?”
I made an embarrassed smile.
“You see… about that…”
Dulla lifted my cloak and let out a silent gasp. Valkyrie’s gasp was much more audible.
“You’re a blank flank?”
“Well… it’s not that big a deal is it?”
Dulla nodded emphatically that it was.
“What’s the big deal, Valk?” Fury asked. “So she doesn’t have a butt-tattoo like the rest of you. Who the hell cares?”
Valkyrie looked at Fury severely.
“How many blank flanks do you see above a certain age?” she asked. “The answer is none. That’s because the only ponies that don’t have marks generally go into a severe form of existential depression and typically end up taking their own lives rather than live a life without purpose.”
“Huh,” said Flea. “I never knew that. Although, in that case, I’d have to question whether they become depressed because they have no purpose or if they can’t find their purpose because they’re depressed. A philosophical discussion for another time, perhaps…”
“The thing is,” I said, “I’m pretty sure I *did* have a mark at some point, but probably lost it at the same time as my horn and my memories.”
Valkyrie actually seemed more concerned after hearing that.
“What could be so powerful that it could destroy your identity as well as your memory?”
“I’ve spent some time among unicorns myself,” Flea said. “And I’m fairly certain there aren’t any magics powerful enough to alter such a fundamental element of one’s being… Although I vaguely remember hearing that there was once an exceptionally powerful unicorn who formulated a theory about how it might be done…”
“Really?” I asked. “Any idea who might be able to tell me more about them?”
Flea looked a bit nervous.
“I… might know a mare…” he said hesitantly.
I frowned. “You don’t sound particularly enthusiastic about introducing me.”
Flea sighed. “Very well. I shall help you find her. You are an enigma I’d be most interested in resolving. And besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”
“Wait a second. You’re coming with me?”
“Hm? Certainly,” he said. “Don’t worry, if you’re truly concerned about my motives, I can assure you that I have a selfish reason for joining you as well.” He leaned in close to whisper, “As it just so happens, there are a few changelings who’d be much happier with me dead, and they’ve tracked me down to this inn. There are half a dozen of them waiting outside, disguised, and I could really use some help in convincing them that it is against their best interests to continue chasing me any longer.”
There was a tap on Flea’s shoulder and he turned to find a concerned-looking Dullahan staring at him.
“Ah, Dulla,” Flea said sadly. “You’re ears always were rather good at picking up things best left unheard. Do not worry about me, I can take care of myself.” He turned back to me. “And if this mysterious stranger agrees to assist me, I may not even have to do that.”
“You’re being chased?” Valkyrie said. “Why didn’t you come to the Watch about it then?”
Flea’s smile had a hint of bitterness to it. “Indeed, why not? The Watch is always so eager to assist those such as myself.”
Valkyrie opened her mouth to argue, then closed it once again.
“Hmph, he’s not wrong,” Fury conceded. “I’m still not seeing any problems with simply tossing the geezer out the front door for the other changelings. When the others reveal themselves, Dulla could simply make use of that special talent of hers and reduce the city’s overall number of shape-shifting bastards.”
“Or, even better, we could leave the wrinkled bug here and get on with all our lives.” We all turned to see a certain baby dragon sitting atop the table and looking slightly more red than usual.
“I told you not to get into any trouble,” Scarlette huffed, “and now here ya are, getting *involved*! And not even with respectable ponies but with changelings and soldiers! Seriously, are you *trying* t’ make this as difficult as possible?”
“These ponies did save my life,” I pointed out.
“So?”
“So the least we can do is help them with this. Besides, Flea says he knows a mare who might be able to help me figure out how I ended up like this.”
“Well—” Scarlette paused. “… Really?”
“Indeed,” Flea said.
Scarlette tapped her chin.
She sighed. “Okay, fine. But only ‘cause that’s in line with the boss’ plans.”
Flea turned to me and asked, “Who is this boss she speaks of?”
I shrugged. “Just one of the many mysteries you’ll have to put up with if you decide to join me,” I told him. “By the way,” I said, turning back to Scarlette, “what’d you want from Ezekiel’s daughter?”
Scarlette let out another sigh.
“I was hoping I could find ya something to heal up that horn of yours. Ezekiel’s daughter Ester is a wiz when it comes to brewing potions… and alcohol… but she didn’t have anything that could regenerate horns. Looks like you’ll just have to wait for it to heal on its own…”
“That’s disappointing,” I said.
“Yep! So since ya can only barely use your magic, let’s try to *avoid* fighting the changelings outside. Okay?”
“Oh don’t worry,” I reassured her. “I have a plan!”
Scarlette pinched the bridge of her snout. “Ya do realize how those two sentences contradict each other, don’t ya?”
We left the inn carrying newly-bought packs laden with recently-obtained supplies. Among our new equipment were three daggers for me to defend myself with, a reasonable amount of food and drinks specially brewed by Ester at Scarlette’s request, and a couple of other odds and ins.
As soon as we left, three ponies approached us, carrying a large wooden box between them.
“Hello,” said the pink mare at the front. “We’re looking for a murderer who we have reason to believe is inside this here inn. Perhaps you could assist us?”
“Maybe,” Scarlette said. “What does this guy look like?”
The pink mare furrowed her brow.
“Funny thing about that,” she said. “We aren’t sure exactly. He’s a changeling you see.”
“Oh,” I said. “Is that so? And why exactly are you looking for this buck? Who did he kill?”
The mare gestured to her two companions and the pair removed the top off the crate the three were carrying. Inside was a pony. Its skin was dry like sandpaper and pulled tight around the corpse’s skeleton. Its eyes were sunken and all its hair appeared to have fallen out. The odor was absolutely incomparable to anything I’d smelt before… or at least, anything I remembered smelling. And if a memory of something similar ever existed in my brain, then it was probably for the best that I’d forgotten it.
“This is… was our mother,” the pink mare said sadly. “The changeling bastard took the shape of our father. We thought he’d died years ago, wandered into the Roots one day and never came back. Then along comes that heartless cur and makes us believe our father survived. You can imagine how overjoyed mother was that her long lost husband had finally returned home to her. But although she’d never been happier, her health began to deteriorate. By the end of the month, this is all that was left of our once-loving mother.”
“So let’s cut to the chase then,” Scarlette said. “How much d’ ya want for the bastard’s head.”
The mare’s expression changed from grief to pleasant surprise.
“You’d really do that for us?” she asked.
“Sure,” Scarlette said. “We just want t’ know how much we can expect in return for our services.”
The pink mare thought it over for a second.
“Let’s say… two-hundred bits,” she said at last.
“Two-fifty,” Scarlette countered.
“Deal.”
The two shook on it.
“Now you two will go back inside and—”
“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” Scarlette said.
She nodded at me, and I pulled one of our newly-acquired items out of our packs. It was Flea’s severed head.
“Y-you already had his head on you?” the pink mare stuttered. The two stallions behind her were so surprised they dropped the box with their mother in it onto the ground.
“Yeah,” I said. “Wouldn’t trust a changeling further than I could throw him. And there he was, not even wearing a disguise, the arrogant bastard. He was obviously up to something, so I made sure he couldn’t finish whatever it was.”
“Now…” Scarlette said, “our payment?”
The pink mare happily paid us the two-hundred-and-fifty bits we’d asked for and she and her brothers left quickly—along with, I noted, three other seemingly-unrelated ponies around the inn’s entrance. A few seconds later, one of the stallion’s returned, having realized they’d been in such a hurry they’d forgotten to take their mother with them. He smiled at us sheepishly and began dragging the box away.
Flea and the three other guards came out once we were certain all the changelings had left.
“Excellent idea,” Flea commended me. “Having me use my transfiguration magic on a watermelon to make it look like my own decapitated head? Brilliant!”
“It wasn’t that great a plan,” I said. “They were just too excited about actually getting the head to check and make sure it wasn’t a fake. I’m honestly more impressed with how Scarlette managed to net us a profit in the process.”
“I’m an opportunistic bitch!” she said with a toothy grin.
“I thought something was fishy about that,” another voice said.
One of the seemingly unimportant ponies around us stepped away from the crowds. She had a strange contraption on her hoof and, with a single stomp, a sharp blade sprang from the device.
“Long time no see,” she said. “Eh, Flea?”
Time seemed to slow as the mare leapt. The looks on Valkyrie and Fury’s face slowly changed from disinterest to surprise. Scarlette’s grin morphed into a look of shock. Flea’s eyes widened.
But the most surprised out of all of us was Dulla. As the changeling assassin lunged, the bat-pony looked to Flea with terror and sadness in her eyes in equal parts, and she began a slow, silent scream.
A feeling came over me as I watched Dulla’s expression. It wasn’t fair! We’d saved him! He was her friend! And now he was going to die right before her eyes.
…
No.
…
NO!
In those few, painfully slow seconds, I felt a pain go throw my skull that made all the previous little tingles I’d felt previously seem like butterfly kisses. The pain started in my horn and worked its way down my spine, filling my body with indescribable agony. I didn’t care. This was more important than any pain.
Almost instinctively, I worked the magics. It was so easy. So obvious!
Just a little bit more…
There.
A jet of purplish-black magic shot from my cracked horn, striking the would-be assassin out of the air.
The changeling hit the ground, bleeding from cuts that ran along her entire body. She couldn’t hold on to her disguise any longer, changing back to her natural state. Plus a few additional holes.
The six of us just stood there, too shocked to move. Then the screaming started.
It was inevitable. Somepony gets horribly mutilated and then transforms into a creature straight from nightmares? Its bound to attract unwanted attention from local bystanders.
“Looks like this is goodbye then,” Valkyrie said, regaining her composure. “I’ll report what happened here and make time for you three to blend into the crowd.”
Dullahan gave her a pleading look.
Valkyrie shook her head.
“Sorry Dulla, but like Flea said, he can take care of himself.” She turned to look at me. “And apparently, he’s not the only one. Besides, we need you on the Night Watch. Nopony could replace your skills at working the darkened streets.”
Dulla lowered her head sadly and gave Flea one last goodbye hug.
“Don’t worry about me,” the old changeling said. “I’ll be fine. You go on.”
The six of us became two groups of three and went our separate ways.
“Say,” Scarlette said between breaths as we ran, “how exactly *did* you do that back there?”
I grunted. “Let’s just forget it ever happened.”
“But—”
I shot the baby dragon a glare that said I didn’t want to talk about it.
“… Whatever you say, chief.”
Because, to be totally honest, I had no idea how I’d done that little trick either. And I felt a new emotion welling up inside me that overpowered all the confusion that I’d felt before. I was no longer certain that I actually wanted to remember who I’d once been.
Because who ever that mare was… she absolutely terrified me.
