Island of the Changelings

I don’t know how I got here. I’m standing right in the center of a dry riverbank. One second, I was parched and dying, and then I was somehow teleported here when I lost consciousness. Does this mean I’m dreaming? Probably. It’s the only logical explanation. What am I doing in this place? It feels like I’m waiting for something. I don’t see anything happening. But then, I hear a light rumbling sound. What’s going on? In the distance, I can see the water rapidly filling up the banks. It’s moving towards me. But why is the water red?

The water is only a few hundred feet away now. I can tell now that it’s not water, it’s blood! As the blood-river advances towards me, the dream starts to shimmer, and fade away. Not entirely, though. I have to move out of the blood-river’s path! As much as I want to, my body won’t respond. The blood-river starts to slow down near me, almost as if its saying, get out of my path. I don’t want to hurt you. My limbs won’t move, though. My muzzle moves, to talk to the blood-river.

"I won’t move. I can’t move," I shout. The blood-river shoots forward with amazing speed, covering the remaining area between itself and me. The dream is incredibly distorted and blurry now. Please let it stop before the river hits me… It doesn’t. The blood-river slams into me with such force, I forget to breathe while I can. I swallow a mouthful of the stuff, and I get tossed under, tumbling over and over from the raging current. I don’t have much air…which way is the surface? I’m so disoriented, I can’t tell. I struggle frantically, but the thickness is preventing any movement. Am I going to drown?

I try to scream but I get another mouthful of blood. My lungs are aching. I don’t have much time! Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my right foreleg. At first it’s only like a prick of a needle, but it slowly gets worse until it feels like someone is drilling a hole into my leg. I try not to screech, but I can’t help opening my mouth and getting more blood down my throat.

“Hey! You’re alive,” a voice cuts through the hazy nightmare. The pain makes the nightmare even more distorted somehow. The redness is blurring and slowly fading away. It’s being replaced by a blurry grayness. The current of the river is getting lighter, too. No…I don’t want this to end. I’m not thirsty in this nightmare…

It takes a while for me to realize I’m awake. For some reason, I didn’t die of dehydration. In fact, I’m not that parched anymore. But…how? I’m still incredibly hungry, though. Then, I notice that my foreleg still hurts. I look at it, and see a circular wound, which is bleeding slightly. So that wasn’t part of the nightmare… I feel something tickling my leg. I glance over to see what’s doing that and shriek. There’s some sort of small, gray animal about to bite me! I scream at it and it runs a few yards away, to the wall. It turns around and hisses at me. But somehow, I can understand what it's trying to say. It's not speaking pony language, but somehow, I know what that hiss meant.

"I was only trying to help!"

I gape at the animal. Now that I get a closer look, it looks like some sort of wildcat. It's silver, with darker grey spots.

"Sorry. I thought you were going to bite me," I find myself mewing. Wait...mewing? Why am I talking like a cat? And why can I understand cat language?

The cat’s eyes open wide. We stare silently at each other for a while. Then, her eyes narrow. "Bite you? I just saved your life," she huffs.

Am I going crazy?

"You saved my life? I didn’t see you do anything," I say suspiciously.

"You were dying, silly. I noticed you were parched, so I poured water into your mouth." The cat rolls her amber eyes. "Anyways, my name’s Four-Leafed Clover. I know it’s a mouthful, so just call me Clover. What’s your name?"

I wonder if I should tell her what I think my name is. Well, she did save my life, so she can probably be trusted. "Suri Polomare."

"Suri...Polomare," Clover repeats. "That's a really weird name. Well, where do you come from?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything besides that name."

"Oh," Clover meows. "You mean like amnesia?"

"I think so. What kind of animal are you?"

"I’m an ocelot," she replies. "What kind of animal are you?" That’s another clue to prove this place is unpopulated.

"I’m a pony." Clover’s muzzle falls open in shock.

"That’s impossible," she mews. There’s no way you’re a pony!"

"I’m absolutely one hundred percent positive that I am an earth pony," I hiss.

Clover shakes her head in disbelief. "B-but ponies went extinct a long t-time ago..."

Now I’m the one in shock. This has to be another dream…talking ocelots, ponies extinct…If Clover is right, does that mean I’m the last pony on this planet?

"Well, we couldn’t have all died out if I’m still alive, right?" I say nervously.

"I guess so…" There’s a long silence. Clover looks very uncomfortable; I’m sure I do as well. Finally, my stomach growls. Clover makes a weird sound. It sounds like purring and meowing mixed together. I can’t hear any words, so she’s probably laughing. After a few seconds of this, her face turns serious.

"My mama told me that ponies are defenseless without their special tools and stuff. Is that right, Suri Polomare?

"I hate to say it, but yes," I reluctantly answer. Clover laughs again.

"So I guess without me, you’ll starve?"

"Probably," I growl. "Can you help me?"

"I need to think about it," Clover mews. She looks very thoughtful for a minute. "I have an idea!"

"What is it?"

"I was thinking that you would slow me down," Clover meows. "You know, dead weight and everything."

I nod, trying to stay on her good side. Those claws of hers look pretty sharp...

"But I really want to show you to my friends at home. My very own pet pony! Just imagine the looks on their faces!"

I chuckle. Clover looks at me suspiciously. "What’s so funny?"

"Nothing," I lie.

"Okay," Clover meows. "So, I’ll lead the way back to where my family lives."

"There’s a problem," I meow. "What will I do after that?" Clover shrugs.

"We’ll cross that log when we get there," she mews.

"Fine. But how are we going to get out of this mountain?"

"Oh, please," Clover hisses. "You actually think I would come in here without knowing the way out?! Follow me, Suri Polomare!" Clover bounds into one of the passageways. I gallop after her. It gets darker and darker until its pitch black again. I can hear the rushing water again. Luckily, that sound doesn’t overpower Clover’s claws scraping the floor. When we have to turn, she yowls, Right! Or Left! Occasionally I bump into a wall. By the time I see a dim light, I have bruises all over, and I’m thirsty and hungry again. Clover suddenly skids to a halt. We’ll stop here, she meows. I swing my gaze all around the massive cavern we’re in. Over to the left, I see a tunnel leading out to a forest. And next to that is…I gasp. There’s a small river winding through the tunnel as well! All the running through the maze has made me exhausted and parched. I dash over to it and swallow the cool, blissful water.

We both sit there for a long time, resting. Clover gives herself a bath. I decide to take advantage of this warm water and clean myself as well. I look into the stream and see my reflection. I’m so covered in dirt and grime; I can’t even see what I look like. No wonder Clover couldn’t figure out what animal I am.

I wade into the stream and pour water all over myself until I can see my features. I have a light pink coat and a long, purple mane. Luckily, I’m wearing clothing, though it’s so torn and dirty it won’t have any effect on warmth. I’ll need to acquire better garments if I have to last the winter. For a split second, I think of Clover’s thick, light grey, spotted coat. As soon as that thought passes through my mind, I reject it. I would never betray Clover like that right after she saved my life. I feel uncomfortable and glance behind me, but the ocelot is gone. I call out to her, but I don’t hear and answer. I search the whole cave, yowling her name, but it’s of no use. Clover has left me behind.

I curl up into a ball on the, cold, damp floor and lie in my own hunger and pity. I almost thought I could survive in the island, but I’m simply hopeless without Clover. And I was beginning to like her a little, too. But she is gone, and she’s not coming back. Somehow, through the aching pains in my stomach, I fall asleep.

I awake to a familiar meow, saying, "Get up, you big, pink lump." Clover! She came back! I hear a thump right next to me, and I open my eyes. She’s right above me, looking down into my face. Breakfast is served, she purrs. I sit up and gaze to my right, where Clover has dropped a dead rabbit.

"Clover…ponies don't eat meat," I worry. She narrows her amber eyes.

"Look, Suri," Clover hisses. "I’ve been up all night tracking this fat rabbit, so I want gratitude, and I want a lot of it. I really couldn’t care less if you ponies 'don’t eat meat.' I’m not going to get you anything else, so you’d better eat up. Or, you can starve if that satisfies you!"

"Okay, okay…but my teeth aren’t built for tearing apart dead animals, so you’ll have to do that for me." Clover bears her sharp teeth and slices the poor rabbit up into shreds. Blood pours out, and I feel my gut wrench. I have to eat this? I wish I had a fire, at least… I hesitantly pick up a piece in one hoof and shove it in my mouth. It’s salty and slimy, but otherwise not terrible. I force myself to swallow. My stomach convulses, but I manage to keep the food down.

"We have to leave soon if we want to get back to my home before nightfall," Clover states. "I live across the island." I eat about a third of the rabbit. I don’t trust myself not to vomit if I eat more.

"Are you going to finish that?"

"No," I meow. Clover wolfs down the rest and pads silently out of the cave. I follow her. As soon as we exit, she streaks away into the woods. I’m stunned for a second, but I remember I’m supposed to follow Clover, so I dash after her.

She’s only a dot in the distance, but I can track her by the noise she makes. I run as fast as I can, but Clover’s simply a little bit faster. It feels like hours that I blindly dash through the thickening wood, low branches smacking my face. My lungs are bursting at the seams and my forelegs are shredded from the brambles I keep stepping in. Every muscle in my body aches, but I won’t stop. I refuse to be left behind.

After what feels like years, Clover stops in a small clearing and lets me catch up to her. I collapse on the soft, springy grass, panting.

"Not bad," Clover mews. "Very few animals can keep up with me."

"What animals would be chasing you?"

"Predators."

"But I thought you were a predator," I say, confused.

"I’m not on the top of the food-chain, you bird-brain! There’s bigger stuff." For some reason, Clover doesn’t meet my eyes when she says this. "Come on, let’s go."

"Already?"

"Yes," Clover hisses. I was just letting you catch up, not go to sleep! She bounds away. I reluctantly follow. At least she’s slowed down a lot.

We run the whole entire day, taking breaks every so often. The forest seems more like a jungle, and it’s still getting thicker. Clover seems to know exactly where she’s going, but I’m starting to doubt her. Everything looks almost the same…are we going in circles? I look up and notice that the sun’s beginning to set. In our next short break, I share my suspicions with the ocelot while rubbing my cramped hooves.

"I’m not an idiot," she spits. "If we were going in circles, I could smell our scent in front of us. Trust me; I know where I’m going. Besides, we’re almost there, so stop complaining."

"Can we bunker down here and finish the journey tomorrow? I’m exhausted," I explain, rubbing my eyes. Clover snorts, but doesn’t protest. I get up and find some moss to make a pillow. I’m glad it’s warm out.

I lie down on the ground. Clover curls up beside me, looking exasperated.

"You’re not tired at all?" I ask her.

"No…well, maybe a little." Her eyes close. I roll over and stroke her fluffy, silver fur. She gives a little purr of recognition. I smile.

When I wake up, it’s still dark out and Clover’s still asleep. My stomach is practically exploding with hunger. I don’t want to rouse Clover; she might get cross. I notice a large bush with tiny red berries sprouting out. I walk over to it and pick berries until I have an entire hoofful of them. I’m about to pop a few in my mouth when I hear an ear-splitting screech.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

I look behind me and see Clover, bristling with anger. "Sorry," I apologize. "You can eat them if you want…"

"YOU IDIOT! THOSE ARE POISONOUS!"

I drop the blood-red berries to the ground, gasping. "I d-didn’t know," I mew quietly. I brace myself for more loud insults, but I don’t hear anything. In fact, Clover is hanging her head in…shame?

"You could have died," she whispers. "If you had eaten those berries you'd have been dead in ten seconds flat."

"I’m sorry."

"It’s all right." Clover perks up a little. "Now, if you’re hungry enough to eat poison, I guess you really need some food." I smile weakly. "I’ll be right back."

After about ten minutes, Clover comes back with a limp squirrel in her powerful jaws. She drops it on the ground and rips it into pieces for me. I eat just enough to satisfy myself. When I’m finished, she bounds away. I follow her.

We run through the thick foliage until we come up to a high, rocky ledge. I look up to see it leads higher than I can see.

"Please don’t tell me we have to climb this," I worry.

"Only a fraction of the way. Come on, let’s go!"

As we scale the rocks, I’m reminded of when I hiked up the mountain on the first day here. Maybe we’re on the other side. Finally, we come to a very small cave. Clover easily strides into it, but I have to crawl through. Luckily, it enlarges as I go in further. After a couple minutes of crawling, I can stand up without trouble. I hear a muffled meow—but it’s not Clover’s.

"Four-Leafed Clover, is that you?"

"Yes," Clover answers.

"What have you brought with you? It smells disgusting," the muffled voice growls. I flinch. Even though it’s dark in here, I can see Clover arching her back in pride.

"You’ll never guess!" Clover turns to me. "This is my older brother, Hawk’s Eye."

"Who are you talking to, Clover? It better not be a changeling..."

"I don’t think she’s a changeling, Hawk," Clover meows. I hear Hawk snort.

"What is she?"

"A pony," Clover mews. There is a very long silence.

"Is this one of your silly jokes?"

"Nope," Clover meows. "She can talk, too! Say hello, Suri Polomare!"

"Hello," I mutter. "What’s a changeling?" I hear a scratching sound, which probably means Hawk jumped in surprise. Both of the ocelots ignore my question.

"I suppose you can come in," Hawk meows doubtfully. He moves to the side, and I crawl into a larger section of the cave. After a second, I notice with a jolt that there are at least ten pairs of glowing amber eyes staring straight at me.

"Is she really a pony, Mama?" I hear a kitten’s squeaky voice cry. A huge, old ocelot with a white muzzle and tattered fur pads over and stares at me for a while, and says, "It is a pony." Gasps fill the room. The old cat stares me straight in the eye.

"As far as we know, all of your kin are dead," he meows. "What are you going to do now?"

"I have no idea. But Clover said that I might be able to stay here," I mew hopefully.

"Very well then. You may stay here for now."  I hear a few hisses of rage. One ocelot walks over and growls, "Pine, that is not a wise decision," but Pine growls at her, and she backs away. It’s obvious that he’s the leader here. I’m glad that he is, instead of one of the ocelots that look like they are going to attack any second.

As the day goes on, I learn about the ways of the Ocelot Tribe. They send out hunting patrols during dawn through dusk, but never during the night. The cave we’re in is a huge network of tunnels branching out through the mountain. This cave seems to be the main place where the tribe lives… it’s almost like a town square. During the afternoon, the cave is much brighter and I can see all of the ocelots. There must be tens—maybe even hundreds—of them. There are tiny newborn kittens, old, dying cats and everything in between. I try to be as helpful as possible, watching the kittens while their mothers hunt, and trying to help repair the roof of the cave (there was a storm recently), but no matter what I do, about half of the tribe Ocelot Tribe glares and hisses whenever they see me.

During the late-afternoon, I feel hungry, so I walk over to the food pile and pick up a limp crow. When I do, I hear a few cats spit things along the lines of, "Waste of food," or "Greedy pony." I almost put the crow back, but I decide not to. Unfortunately, Clover’s on a border patrol, and she’s the only ocelot who would rip food up for me… Well, maybe I could ask Pine. He seems to like me somewhat. He’s on the other side of the cave, eating alone. I walk over to him.

"Hello, pony," Pine meows. "Is there something wrong?" I tell him about my predicament, and he gladly tears up the bird for me. I eat it quickly. I think I’m actually getting used to raw meat. It’s not that hard to eat if I just swallow it before it touches my tongue.

"If there’s anything you need, just tell me," Pine meows kindly as I stand up to leave.

"Well, there is something I need."

"What is it?"

"Knowledge," I answer.

Pine chuckles. "What do you want to know?"

I think for a bit before I speak. "Everyone here seems to hate me, Pine. Why?"

"It’s because you’re a different species than our own."

"Why is that such a problem?"

"It’s because of the outbreak of changelings." I rememberHawk saying something about Outsiders.

"What’s a changeling?" I ask.

Pine takes a deep breath before answering my question. "Well," he says slowly. For many years now, horrible creatures have roamed this island. We call them changelings. They only come out at night, and they are gruesome things."

"What do they look like?"

"They look like ponies...except they are black as night, and have insect wings, huge fangs, and holes riddling their bodies. Do you have any other questions?"

"Yes," I mew. "I understand why all of your kind dislikes me. So, why did you accept me so quickly?"

"It is simply because you are a pony," Pine answers quickly. "It would be cruel to condemn you to starvation or thirst or even death by the changelings, especially while your species is either extinct or on the verge of extinction."

He’s lying. I can tell from the guilty look in his eyes.

"I know you’re lying," I hiss. "What’s the real reason?" Pine’s eyes widen, and then narrow. He licks his paw and swipes it across his scraggly fur.

"You are smarter than I had thought, pony," Pine praises. "I will tell the truth, but you might not like it. Are you sure you want to hear?"

"Yes."

"Fine," Pine meows reluctantly. "When I was just a kitten—it must have been fifteen years ago--ponies lived on this land. They built their box-shaped homes on the top of the mountain, and all was well. The ponies who lived here were able to use some sort of magic. Not normal unicorn magic. They could bend earth, fire, water, and air to their will. They were called the Elementals. My mother said that we and the ponies made a pact long ago. The pact was that the ponies got the mountain, and we got everything else. Believe it or not, they built these tunnels. The ponies never bothered us. Everything was good."

"But then, the ponies died out. No one knows why. I remember hearing a commotion; it sounded like explosions were happening.  When our scouts arrived at the pony territory, they were all gone. Their homes were all burned to the ground. There were signs of a struggle; bloodstains were everywhere. Yet, no dead bodies were found."

"A few days after the Elementals were destroyed, the changelings came in humongous waves. Many believe that the ponies were protecting us from the creatures."

I’m in shock. How could something like that happen? I don’t want to believe it. But why does that have to do with why Pine accepted me into his tribe so quickly? Then, it becomes clear as day.

"You want me alive…so I can kill the changelings." Pine nods sheepishly. I feel a mix of fury, confusion, and grief.

"How could you expect me to do such a thing?!" Everyone stares at me. I force myself to lower my voice.

"I don’t even know who I am, let alone how to chase away the changelings," I meow.

"You don’t remember anything about yourself?" I grope my mind, searching for any detail at all, but nothing except my name comes up, as always. I come up to that same, solid wall in my mind. "No, I answer. Not a thing."

"Pity," Pine meows sadly. He stares at my foreleg for a second. "Do you remember how that mark on your foreleg got there?"

"What mark?" I ask. I look at my right foreleg and notice a little, blue, circular mark. It looks so familiar…wait, I know what that is! The day I met Clover, I woke from a dream about a blood river because of a pain in the exact same place. There was a little wound there. It doesn’t hurt anymore. But why is it blue now? I tell Pine everything, including the dream.

"So you know when that mark appeared, Pine says, but do you know how it appeared?"

"Sorry, but no."

Then, the border patrol comes back. It consists of Clover, and two other ocelots I don’t know the names of. All three of them dash into the room at full speed, looking terrified. Pine jumps up and yowls, "What is happening? Is it an attack?!"

"No," one of the members of the patrol answers.

"Then what is going on?" The three cats take a moment to catch their breath before Clover pipes up.

"We found another pony."