Irregardless of how stereotypical it would have made it look, no drips of water were falling from the roof of the cave Chrysalis laid in. In fact, it was exceptionally dry, one of the driest places she’d ever encountered, both the cave itself and the landscape it resided in. At least changelings didn’t require the ridiculous amounts of water most other creatures the same size needed every day. No, even the one thing they truly depended on for nutrition they could still go quite extended periods without, though obviously not without growing slowly weak and frail . . . like most of her subjects had become.
“My Queen . . . I have our day’s report, if you will receive my request for audience.” A voice called in to her from the cave’s entrance. It was one of her leutenants, Coarse Cilia.
“Come, I desire to hear it.” She responded across the distance without really having to raise her voice.
Coarse Cilia proceeded in at a gradual pace, leaving the Queen to listen to his hollow hoofsteps for half a minute before he arrived at an appropriate distance in front of her. He was weak and frail too, not that he had necessarily been all that large before, from her perspective given she was twice her subjects’ size in both height and length. But regardless . . . this was getting so bad . . . and now, to all too humbling of an extent she was effectively powerless to grant her subjects what they needed. Not after Canterlot.
“I’ve had enough of your retention of things that once mattered, lieutenant Coarse. If you bring anything your own judgment tells you I’ll want to hear, then bring me the message. Do not ask me again if I WANT to hear any of your reports on all of those I am supposed to care for.” Chrysalis both ordered and scolded the officer, who seemed to allow her words sink into himself a moment, as he didn’t initially react.
“Forgive me, my Queen, then,” he apologized in a face-to-ground bow, humbling himself before going on, “I’ve come to tell you that our small operations in both the Buffalo tribe and the Appleousa ponies are succeeding.”
The Queen’s eyes opened almost fully, and she lifted her head upright at the reception of that report.
The lieutenant went on to explain in detail. “We’ve been extremely careful as to only do so whenever the real child being mimicked is out of sight, but we have been having our young mimic Buffalo and Pony children for very brief periods, just a few minutes on average. It’s proved long enough for them garner enough love out of the caring looks of passing adults. We’ve had several close calls, but so far we’ve managed to pull them out just in time on the few occasions the real child suddenly reappeared without warning. Our young are remaining well-fed enough now; not as much as would truly be optimal for their health . . . but they’re not starving.”
A smile grew across Chrysalis’s face, for the first time in a long while. It was not in any way what any of the Canterlot ponies who’d encountered her would have ever expected to see her wear. Her smile was warm, one simply being content, content and relieved, nothing at all like the maniacal, victory-gloating smiles most had last seen her with.
“Maintain your efforts,” she ordered, “and have every one your fellow lieutenants competent enough with devising plans working on something to provide provisioning for the rest of us.”
Up until then, changeling parents had very meagerly been getting by off of shared portions of the love their children received when they were in disguise. Changelings, despite what was likely thought of them by other creatures, could and did in fact feel affection for one another . . . but it was only the love of other species directed at them that could feed them. However, changelings could pass love that they acquired between each other. And that, was how they had been barely scraping by in these months after Canterlot.
“Yes my Queen,” Coarse replied with obedience, “we were already discussing the possibility for us go into Appleousa in disguise ourselves. We adults, I mean. The same as with our young, it could be no more than one or two at a time. Though the youngest Buffalo and our young are close enough in size, the adult Buffalo are too large for us to mimic. They also have too many unique mannerisms that we’ve not been familiarized enough with anyway. Our experience with ponies should easily allow us to pass ourselves off though, for little more than a walk through the town. From what we’ve gathered the ponies all seem to care about each other enough that enough adults simply walking about receive smiles and greetings from most they run into. It’s not as strong as the universal love they all direct towards their collective foals, but it should hopefully be able to serve as survival rationing at the least.”
Chrysalis’s face seemed to glow just a tiny bit more, and came as close as one could imagine to her “perking up”.
This WAS satisfying, far more than that, truly. All the angst and the fear . . . everything her arguably most-faithful subject was finally relaying was able to put a notable amount of her anxiety at ease. That sensation, that horrid emotion was all there had been inside of her for months, consuming her one waking moment after another. Fear . . . fear over what would now become of them. They’d been so close, after dreaming for so long of that day that almost was, pledging and declaring from the time she was small that she would be the one, she would find the Changelings a filling source of love, she would bring them to a permanent state where they would always be fed . . . and always be safe, they would never have to worry about a thing ever again.
But she failed.
And for that, self-embitterment and inward anger were the only other things she’d felt in all the months since that would-be wedding day.
“Excellent, lieutenant, you have not failed in the execution of your duties . . . none of you have.” She told him . . . the only one who had failed was her.
Coarse Cilia bowed himself again, and looked to depart when he rose, only he stopped a third of the way through his about face and shifted back to face his Queen again. “My Queen . . .”
Chrysalis waited for a few passing seconds before some tiny fraction of her old irritability managed to gain life. “Yes? Go on with it.” She demanded.
“My Queen, from all that we’ve seen, specifically when our young have encountered other foals while in disguise that the foals they were mimicking were not well known by, the amount of tolerance and acceptance in ponies and even the Buffalo as well is . . .” the lieutenant paused, and even without his eyes breaking contact with her Chrysalis could feel his thoughts turning.
Her lieutenant was going to say something, and she could easily perceive that he did not think she would like it.
And, he went on, “My Queen, I ask still in my complete submission . . . that we consider approaching them openly.”
“WHAT?!” She stood up, for the first time in days. “NO! I may have failed and cost us dearly with my Canterlot scheme, and I may not have been the one to devise the clever plan we’ve been employing for the last set of months, but I do believe I still just the SLIGHTEST morsel of judgement when it comes to deciding what is ultimately far too dangerous of a suggestion to even consider! Has the past taught you nothing about what happens when ANY others find out what we really are?”
To somewhat of her surprise however, though his fear of her was obvious, Coarse did not break into an apology . . . nor did he even withdraw his suggestion, only a part of it.
“Yes, it has, my Queen,” he held himself calm as he made his reply, “and after our revelation to the ponies in Canterlot, we have every reason to expect that they will do anything but receive us. But . . . these Appleousan ponies here, they appear to significantly cut from the new of the rest of their nation, and even so, when they hear about the subjects raised in papers they receive they hardly seem to be aware of the most recent topics. There is a chance they might not know about us. If that consideration is to be cast aside, then my Queen at least please consider the Buffalo . . .”
“What about them?” She questioned with narrowed eyes. It was only her guilt that was allowing her to let him go on so far. She was willing to listen to, and even follow almost any of his ideas, far more openly than she used to. But ANY form of direct association with ponies was still a far distance beyond her tolerance line.
“They’ve never heard of us, and they seem to be just as caring amongst each other as the ponies are. And . . . although they are friends with the ponies, the two don’t have the best of histories, from what we’ve gathered. I believe, my Queen, if we were to approach them openly, if they did respond kindly to us, they may agree not to disclose our presence to the ponies. We might be able to have a consistent, and willing food source, and still not risk revelation to Celestia.”
For the moment that followed Chrysalis said nothing back to him. Her only reaction for nearly a minute being her eyes changing from a harsh narrowness over to a very hesitant, but thoughtful kind.
There was risk, too much risk. She wanted to just dismiss his suggestion out of temper, but her own thoughts still held on to her. Hadn’t there been seemingly too much risk in what she’d tried to have them pull off in Canterlot. Let alone just that, but then thinking that they would have been able to just overpower the entire rest of Equestria, millions of other ponies after that. What position was she in now to call this proposition ridiculous?
Chrysalis closed her eyes for a few seconds, and opened them again as she finally responded to her lieutenant. “You’re suggestion’s all too sensible, lieutenant. I’m going to have to deny it.”
Coarse Cilia appeared more confused than he ever had in his life before. The way his Queen had just phrased her denial . . . he couldn’t process it.
Chrysalis blinked once and explained herself to him. “I’ve been in this declining apathetic state far too long. I was trying to make humor.”
THAT left Coarse most assuredly more shocked then he ever would be again. For one who might know how to tell the changes in a changeling’s eyes, his eyes shot wide and huge.
“Carry out the plan you’ve conceived, but hold caution. And have every changeling told to be ready, we’ll need to be ready to flee if the Buffalo do not conceal us as you say.”
It still took the lieutenant another few seconds to what he’d heard over, but regained himself quickly enough and bowed low again just Chrysalis laid back down on the cave floor. “Yes, my Queen.” He said and took off immediately.
She was alone, again. Nothing to do but think, and worry, and resent . . . and now wait. This wasn’t the same as waited for each moment of the Canterlot invasion to fall into place, there no excitement in this. It was just anxiety-ridden anticipation of whatever outcome Coarse Cilia’s proposal might yield.
Queen Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, felt like her heart was being held over the edge of cliff, without wings. Granted, it was the same heart she’d sang about being empty and having no room inside of it only months before. Now though, now there was a lot of room, room reserved for something that she feared would never arrive, but seemed as if just maybe it might be coming.
Her heart had enough room for hope.
Author's Note
Well, here's the first chapter of what's going to be my latest story. I've been wanting to do a Chrysalis story for a while.
For situation-wise, I hope it's clear enough that "the badlands" they got flung to (at least for me) are within the same region as Appleousa.
The story will have semi-shifting POVs, mainly between Chrysalis and the story's other main character (his POV next chapter).
Hope everypony/anypony enjoys :)
The train jolted and rocked here and there as it began to run over the bumpy span of the tracks. It was a signal to anypony familiar with the trip that they were about an hour out from Appaloosa. Which, Helping Hooves had been to before, albeit only once. Still, the nearly 24-hour train ride had stuck well in his memory, as train trips always had with how much he enjoyed them. So he knew; they were close.
One of the bumps happened to come just as he was opening the door that led from the passengers’ sleeping car to the dining car. The timing was literally so perfect that just as he opened the door, the train bounced and jerked him backward slamming the door shut again.
“Ok?” He couldn’t help but say to the door just for the sake of it. Helping waited a second with slightly raised eyebrows and then cautiously pressed the door open again, succeeding this time.
The door gave way to a sparsely-filled dining car, sparsely in terms of there being a whole four other ponies inside. One couple, it looked like, and two younger adolescent colts that he’d gathered were brothers from their similarity in appearance and the few of their conversations he’d overheard the previous day. The two pairs sat separately, and so Helping chose to as well. Other ponies’ company was more than alright, but if it seemed like anypony didn’t want to be bothered then he wouldn’t bother them. He chose the small corner table directly to his right and opened the window curtains as he seated himself.
Watching scenery pass by at seventy-five miles per hour was mesmerizing for anypony, and Helping Hooves wasn’t an exception by any means. In fact he quite often unintentionally passed decent spans of time by on his frequent trips just staring out the window, especially this trip with how long it was each way. There weren’t even any stops after Dodge Junction, just fourteen straight hours of rolling along the tracks. Appleoosa was one of the most far-flung pony towns of any kind, and was by all means at the fringe of Equestria’s southern border. Of course, crossing said border didn’t exactly mean anything, or at least nothing bad, just that one would quickly find themselves in a land where the predominant population consisted of camels as opposed to ponies.
It was the camels who let the ponies use their hot, desert land’s air to bring about Springtime in Equestria as a matter of fact.
“Sure, go right ahead, *indiscernible munching noises* we don’t care whatch’all do with the air THAT high above our heads, you don’t see us jumping up and flying, and whooshing all around. Just make sure ya’ll don’t use your funky magic whatnot to make our cactuses grow mustaches and start dancing around again like a while back . . . those were some weird times.”
That had been the exact quote listed in school history class books, even including the connotation of the munching noises since camels apparently didn’t have any etiquette about talking with their mouths full, and their reference to what happened to their land under Discord’s brief global reign just before Celestia and Luna first came.
“Good morning sir.” The dining car’s waiter suddenly addressed Helping Hooves, who twisted himself back from facing the window. “What might we make for you this morning?” the waiter went on to ask, “We like to provide passengers with an introduction to Appleoosa before they arrive, so our specials for the morning include Apples, Apple Pie, Apple Turnovers, Pancakes with Applesauce—“
“Yeah, I had that last time. I’ll just go with it again.” Helping gave his selection. Pancakes and Applesauce sounded so strange to most ponies, and equally had to him before he’d tried them, but they were surprisingly enjoyable.
The waiter dipped his head curtly and walked off toward the front of the car to enter the small kitchen.
The Apples-only diet . . . that was one reason Helping Hooves had to visit Appleoosa now, though their remoteness was the main contributor to their need. He oversaw the delivery of medical supplies, and in their case, of vitamin supplements. Not that Apples and the bread that sometimes surrounded them in their various baked forms weren’t healthy in and of themselves, but they didn’t contain everything ponies needed. And, being in the midst of the badlands, it wasn’t as if there were abundant grasses or other plants ponies would normally eat. They also didn’t exactly have anything close to even the basics of a fully-equipped doctor’s office. But, then again their isolation had seemed to keep them safe from most infections that had gone around since they founded their town a couple of years ago, with the exception of the mild cold here or there. Now though, relatives and friends were starting to visit Appleoosa more frequently, along with a hoof-full of ponies just vacationing to get the “mild-western” experience. So this particular trip Helping Hooves’s main concern was giving vaccinations to the town’s residents, since now their exposure to everything that went through the rest of Equestria would be increasing.
That, and their Rattlesnake anti-venom.
With the exception of pretty much everything in the Everfree Forest, it was true that most of Equestria’s wild creatures were either docile or non-deadly, and ponies themselves seemed to be generally resilient anyways. However, Rattlesnake bites still ended in several days of brutal agony and up to a month of lingering pain afterward, let alone the additional months it often took to get full function of the bitten area back; heaven forbid somepony were to get bit right on the rump . . .
But, with a nice dose of anti-venom right on site, all that could be avoided and reduced to a simple week of moderate pain and swelling.
***
Surely enough, an hour after Helping Hooves had sat down to eat, he felt that sudden tug of forward inertia as the train began to slow down.
“Appleoosa!” one of the conductors announced to the grand total of five ponies upon entering the dining car, “Now arriving in Appleoosa! Anypony and everypony getting off in Appleoosa this is your stop, and I’d bet all my bits on all of yuh hopping off since you rode all the way down here anyways,” he paused and looked around at the five of them, “Anypony want all my bits? No? Nopony? Well alrighty then, this is definitely yur stop!”
The train seemed to almost perfectly play along, coming to its final halt right as the conductor had finished speaking to them. The other four ponies headed quickly back into the sleeper car to grab their luggage, leaving Helping Hooves the only one besides the conductor remaining.
“Packed ultra-light?” The conductor asked just as he was about to step back through the kitchen into the forward cars.
“Oh no,” Helping figured he’d have just the slightest bit of fun, ironically by telling a version of the truth, “everything in the freight car is mine.” He said with a placid, informative smile.
The conductor’s eyes enlarged, and his expression went to one resembling a restaurant waiter’s when somepony said they’d order the whole menu. “Well, ah-haha-ah,” he stumbled about his words as he slowly disappeared through the forward door, “you enjoy yourself with that then.”
Helping Hooves got up casually and stretched a good deal while he waited. And what he was waiting for came less than a minute later: the clank and thud of one of the train crew flipping the short set of metal stairs down from the junction between the dining and sleeper cars. Now, it was time to get off.
He went through the very door he’d been eating just around the corner from, and exited the inside of the train into the warm desert air, which actually felt warm now that it was still and not rushing past him. The other four passengers happened to emerge with their small items of luggage they’d gone back for just as he came out as well. He stopped in his own tracks and lightly waved a hoof to let them know they could all go ahead. And so, he stepped down and off last, to a grand welcoming of . . . nopony. Although, Helping guessed saying that would be unfair since he wasn’t expecting any. The tiny western town was little more than a two-minute trot across; word would spread to anypony it needed to fast enough.
Helping Hooves just walked beside the train toward the freight car at steady pace. The same crew member who’d set down the stairs for them was already there, sliding open the second of the car’s twin side-doors. As soon as the stallion had, he stepped back and waited whilst looking about for anypony approaching to claim the cargo. Helping, of course, ended the crewman’s wait a mere ten seconds after it began.
“Good morning, sir.” Helping greeted the train worker, reverting to the politeness to strangers he’d been raised on.
The crew member nodded in return and asked him. “This all under you?”
“Yes sir.” Helping nodded back
“We’ll get it all out for you but the trip back’s long enough as is without us causing anypony delays, so we can’t exactly stick around long enough to help you carry it all.” The crewpony told him and apologized, and wasted no time afterward hopping up into the freight car and beginning to lower down crates one at a time.
“Ya’ll don’t need ta worry,” a familiar, southern voice said, leading the crewpony to look up and Helping Hooves to turn around, “I’m mighty sure we’ll be able to help with all the carryin.” Surely enough, it was Braeburn, one of the only ponies Helping specifically remembered the name of, mostly in this case because Braeburn was practically in his face the entire time he’d last been there.
“Hey Tumbleweed!” Braeburn shouted over his shoulder to a stallion who had just finished replacing a window shutter on a nearby building. The stallion turned his head without fail at the call. “Go run’n tell sheriff Silver Star that Big Doc’s back!” Braeburn yelled out, and with a quick smile and wave-off the distant stallion tossed his hammer back into his saddlebag and trotted off into town.
Nowhere else in Equestria was Helping Hooves referred to as “Big Doc.” And, for that matter, it was mostly just Braeburn who called him that, though the other townsponies would still know the name if they heard it. The reason Braeburn had given him the first time he used the name was that Braeburn had a closely-related cousin named Big Mac, and since Helping was somewhat large himself, albeit still not actually close in size to Big Mac, Braeburn just felt like the name was right. Helping Hooves just let it slide; whatever anypony wanted to call him didn’t really matter. In all seriousness though, he was larger and taller than a normal stallion, but he still wasn’t really that big, maybe a little more than 20% larger than normal.
“So where exactly are we going to put everything until it’s used up?” Helping asked Braeburn, beginning to lift up a couple of crates, “I don’t exactly remember you guys having a warehouse last time I was here. And the vaccines seriously can’t sit out in the sun.” He finished lifting what he could onto his back and waited for Braeburn to give him a destination.
“Don’t worry, we’ll just throw it all in the Sheriff’s office,” Braeburn responded with a upbeat dismissal, “it ain’t like he ever does anything cept sit outside on his rockin chair anyways.” He picked up and pair of boxes himself. “Right Sheriff Silver Star?” He then suddenly called out back towards the town, from the sheriff conveniently was already coming right in the same moment.
Sheriff Silver Star wasn’t at all alone, however. Apart from just Tumbleweed returning with him, he was also being followed by three Buffalo as well, one of whom had a massive headdress of painted feathers.
“I believe,” the buffalo with the headdress began without any introduction or waiting, “we may be able to help this go along much faster.” Immediately after he’d spoken, the other two buffalo accompanying him walked up and loaded quite an impressive amount of crates and boxes onto their backs.
“Yeah, y’all just go ahead and put everything in my office,” Sheriff Silver Star waved them off, “Ain’t like I really need it, plus I’m sure I’ll be gettin it back round whenever our annual visitor’s done with us.” He turned back to face Helping and shake his hoof briefly. “Plenty kind of yuh to feel like riding all the long way out here just ta check up on us again.”
“And thank y’all just as much, Chief Thunderhooves,” Braeburn added, “this probably would’ve taken us quite a few trips to and from without y’all’s help.”
Braeburn went on to load up a couple of boxes himself as he’d finished speaking, and Helping Hooves watched both the Sheriff and apparent buffalo Chief follow suit with as much they each could carry. Even with just the three buffalo helping to carry the supply crates, their help still yielded a result of only two trips being necessary to get everything from the bare train stop to the Sheriff’s office. Which, Helping was more than grateful internally for, as he’d been expecting just as lengthy of a process as Braeburn had.
“Y’all take care now,” the Sheriff said just before beginning to head off with the three buffalo, “you make sure to treat our guest-doc like a proper guest now Braeburn.”
“Come on Sheriff, when’ve ah ever not treated anypony like a guest?” Braeburn seemed to think the Sheriff was joking.
“Oh it’s not that you’re not welcoming,” the Sheriff called back, “I’ve just gathered from more than a few visitors that there’s a certain yellow-coated, orange-maned, hat-wearing welcome pony that has a bit too much of a habit of head-butting ponies from one side’a’town ta the other without stoppin fer so much’s a second ta let’em see what he’s supposed ta be showin’em.”
THAT experience Helping Hooves remembered quite well, more than anything else, as a matter of fact. He’d spent half of the train ride back from his first trip wondering how Braeburn managed to push ponies five whole steps yet somehow cover a hundred-meters’ distance. Right in the present moment, though, it appeared to be Braeburn who was doing the wondering, not seeming to get who the Sheriff meant, at least not for the first few seconds.
“Wait,” Braeburn said, now turning to Helping, being the only other pony left, “do I really do all that? I know I get excited about showin folks around our amazing little town, but nopony ever said I was getting carried away.”
“You took ten steps and crossed the entire town,” Helping said, leaving Braeburn’s eyes wideshot and somewhat crossed, “while pushing me, with your head, along with the other three ponies that got off with me.” Helping recounted a very vague version of what had happened within less than a minute of his first arrival in Appleoosa. Braeburn just stared oddly at an angle and rubbed the side of his head for the moment that followed.
“Well I’m not tryin ta call nopony a liar; ah just don’t remember any of that, er, ah mean ah don’t exactly remember it like that . . .” Braeburn said, before his tone suddenly shifted a bit as he appeared to get an idea, “say, y’all say ah been hustling ponies along with mah head. Do yuh think that could be mashin up mah memory of it?” He ended up asking, out of the assumption he evidently still held about Helping Hooves.
“Well, pushing, for all intents and purposes putting the weight of five other ponies on your head for multiple runs across an entire town . . . yeah, I would kind of assume that would do something, at least cut off some blood flow,” Helping gave as much of guess as he could come up with, though he honestly just thought the overtly-friendly stallion probably just got carried away all the time. However, Helping Hooves still wanted to try at least one more time to dispel the assumption that seemed to still be running. “You do know I’m not actually a doctor, right?” He asked.
Braeburn practically swatted the notion out of the air. “Psht, what’re yuh talkin about? You did all kinds’a medicine-sy stuff for us last time you wuz here!” He even started walking as he dismissed what Helping had said, seemingly just expecting him to follow, which Helping Hooves did, not really having anywhere else to go.
“I gave shots,” Helping Hooves continued to try to get the concept across, “and I checked some ponies’ blood pressure. The only other things I did besides that was teach you, the Sheriff and a few other ponies First Aid and CPR.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Braeburn still persisted, “that’s like doctoring stuff ain’t it?”
Helping Hooves really couldn’t avoid emitting a sigh by that point. “Yeah,” he started, and still tried on, “really, really, really basic stuff. Doctors and Pharmacists and Psychiatrists go to school, for years, sometimes a decade, to learn basically as close to everything as you can reasonably expect out of a pony. Don’t you remember that stuff I taught you guys taking, like, a couple of days?”
“Huh,” Braeburn finally seemed to actually consider it for a second as they kept walking, “yeah, now that you mention it, that was all pretty quick. But, so wait, if yuh ain’t a doctor, then what are yuh?”
“I’m an aid worker,” Helping Hooves took the chance to explain the truth with much relief, “I know a bunch of basic stuff about a lot of things, and how do certain procedures, and other stuff. It’s not even just medical.”
“So . . . if yuh don’t mind me askin,” Braeburn begged his own question, “why ain’t you a doctor?”
Helping honestly didn’t have any hold-backs whatsoever as to what anypony knew about him, so he just went ahead. “Like I said, that takes a lot of school, and a long time. I like helping ponies too, and medical stuff is usually one of the best ways, but, I didn’t really want to wait. I pretty much just wanted to get right out and start. There’s basic stuff that always needs to be done, so I take care of all of that, wherever I get sent, at least. Ponies need to get their vaccines, shipments need to be overseen, really rural communitees need to be checked up on . . .”
“So all kinds’a stuff then?” Braeburn basically finished up Helping Hooves’ summary for him by asking.
“Yeah, basically . . .” Helping answered, and he might have said more, but he was stopped by Braeburn’s announcement of their arrival.
“Here we are, partner, figured you were probably a little hungry, or thirsty, or both! So here’s the greatest place ta dine in town: The Salt Block!” Braeburn declared, waving his outstretched hoof across the sign. “Just built it a little while after you were here last. And look, even got’cha here movin yer own four hooves! No pushin yuh across town like a bale a hay this time!”
Helping just stared. It looked like a standard desert town restaurant. What were they supposed to be called? Saloons?
“Actually, I had breakfast on the train.” He told the western pony. “But, if you claim it’s that good, I’m going to have eat some time, obviously, so what exactly do they serve?”
“Salt!” Braeburn’s answer, and the proceeding questions and answers it led to practically were the sole cause of Helping Hooves’ nightmares that night, and as he now realized, the reason for everypony in town having such ridiculous blood pressures.
Who just flat out ate pure, raw salt!!??
***
Most of the buffalo of the Appleoosa badlands tribe were gathered around campfires eating their dinner, a bit early, as a matter of fact. The sun was in the process of setting, but it was still above the horizon. Chief Thunderhooves and the two others that had accompanied him to Appleoosa had actually just returned, and Little Strongheart was bringing their meal bowls to them.
Just beyond their camp, however, there was a small group of blackish-grey creatures huddled close together in discussion. They were running over their plan swiftly, one last time, primarily focusing on memorizing exactly what Lieutenant Coarse Cilia had devised for them to tell the Buffalo. It was a mixture of lies and truths, with a fair deal of the lying aimed at skirting around their attempted actions at Canterlot . . . and other failed endeavors.
They began to slowly approach the buffalo camp on hoof, deciding both that it would probably look slightly less intimidating if they were not flying, and that they needed to at least make initial contact before the sun finally set. Although the most important reason for their slow, casual approach was to make sure the Buffalo noticed them while they were still at a distance, as opposed to right at the edge of their camp. And it worked, as after about thirty seconds they clearly saw at least two buffalo look up in their direction and take notice of them before assumedly going to tell the Chief. The four changelings ended up with a handful of eyes on them after another moment, and after yet another Lieutenant Coarse made the decision to go ahead and have them halt where they were: still about a stone’s throw away from the outermost teepees.
Within the next few seconds, Chief Thunderhooves emerged from the camp with Little Strongheart beside him and a few others following cautiously behind. The two of them, granted Thunderhooves still had a slight air of caution, held genuinely curious expressions, and didn’t seem immediately defensive in any way. It came as a great, washing relief to Lieutenant Coarse, as he’d taken to making himself prepared for the worst possible scenario.
For a minute there was just silence, enough that the steady awkwardness of it drew Thunderhooves and Strongheart to exchange looks with each other first, and then enticed Thunderhooves to finally speak, and choosing to speak in the Pony language since it was most commonly known and he severely doubted some random group of strangers would know their one tribe’s dialect of Buffalo.
“We, of the buffalo tribe welcome you . . . strangers.” The Chief said to them, pointing first to himself and then the rest of his tribe with his hoof. He held himself up near the end, only because he had absolutely no idea what the changelings were, and thus obviously none whatsoever as to what to call them.
Lieutenant Coarse dipped his head quickly, and curtly, and at his doing so the other three with him enacted the same behavior.
“Thank you,” Coarse replied, “we are not familiar with this land, but we could see that you lived here when we first arrived. We wanted to make ourselves known to you earlier,” he paused just long enough for the two changelings in the rear to take the cue to appear timid, “but, some of us were afraid. So . . . I ask that you forgive us, but we have been watching you for a time, long enough now to see that you appear to be friendly and peaceful.”
“Oh, of course,” it Little Strongheart who replied to them, “I’m sure we can understand. There was one time when we were not so friendly, but that was over a large disagreement and in part both sides refusing to talk to each other about what they saw as wrong.” Thunderhooves couldn’t avoid looking away at her mentioning of the past, though it was only for a second.
Coarse Cilia made a smile, though the more relieved he felt, the less his expressions were a result of acting. “We’ve known that we would need to speak to you sooner or later,” he began, and as he reached the point of his question, he didn’t need to force any uneasiness into his voice with the amount he already felt, “we’ve been . . . forced to leave where we previously were, and before we came there, even, we were forced to leave where we were before that . . . and before that, and before that . . .” ironically, though unbeknownst to Coarse, he was actually sounding rather like a certain buffalo Chief that Little Strongheart knew, but before she had time to potentially look between the two while running the comparison in her own mind Coarse kept going, “. . . we desire to ask you if we may live here, in this land?”
There was no verbal reaction whatever that came from any buffalo, not even Strongheart or Thunderhooves. Most of them just looked to and from one another, some, like Thunderhooves, actually appearing almost confused. Their lack of response didn’t come across as a distinctly good sign to the four changelings however, so Coarse decided to continue the proposition with the more persuasive parts he’d considered.
“We felt that we should ask, since you already live here. The expanse of the land is vast, and as far as we know the only others that live here beside you are the Appleoosan ponies, though you are much closer . . . and we don’t have the kindest history with ponies,” that resulted in a moment of uneasy looks of mixed guilt across most of the buffalo’s faces, something that struck the hope into Lieutenant Coarse that he could use it, “so, if you are willing to allow us to stay . . . we would only ask one question of you further, that you please not tell them about us . . . or at least not right away.”
Little Strongheart looked up to Chief Thunderhooves, who’d had his hoof to his chin for the past moment or so. Finally, he responded to the changelings, “We, of buffalo have never encountered you before, so we have nothing to hold against you. We, have had our own differences with the ponies before, so it just may be that we are in good standing to understand how you all feel,” he paused for a couple of seconds just to pan his outstretched hoof across the scenery of the badlands, “It is not, as if we have any questions of room for you. This land, is vast as you said. There are, however, things that can lead to difficulties with our acceptance of you, depending on what you build . . . or what you plant.” The Chief couldn't keep himself from the plant mentioning, as it was the orchard that had actually been in the midst of their stampeding path.
Lieutenant Coarse made his face to brighten in expression. Though relief and hope both were surging through him in reality, it still took effort on his part to appear expressive. “We have not built anything, not in this land. We have been living in the cave systems that run through cliffs,” he pointed with his own hoof the craggy stretch cliff faces off at the edge of the horizon, “and we certainly have no need to plant anything.”
As Coarse finished speaking, it became Chief Thunderhooves’ turn to lighten up his own expression as he responded, “So you, do not put anything on the land that was not there before?” He asked the leading question.
All three of the other changelings smiled and shook their heads, and Coarse answered. “We have no need; the caves are vast, and we don’t need to grow plants to consume.”
“Well,” the Chief began, now greatly optimistic, “it may well be that we will have no problem with your living on the land at all then. Even though space is no concern here, those who may still feel somewhat uncomfortable on both our sides will probably be at ease with you living so far off.” He ended raising his own hoof to the distant cliffs that Coarse had indicated.
Coarse nodded, and even decided to still add what they had planned. “And we can help you as well, if you want. We’ve seen you stampede, and noticed quickly that it’s always the same path you follow. But you turned slightly, and sometimes went around places. Forgive us our curiosity, but some of us went to see if there was a reason why, and saw that it was always to avoid Rattlesnakes,” the flinching of numerous buffalo at the mention of the word led Coarse to pause for a moment and let them mentally recover, “we could keep watch over your path for you, and move them out whenever they come.”
The Chief gave Coarse a look that barely needed reading, but Coarse went on quickly before any of the buffalo asked if they were insane. He picked up a rock and hit it a few times against himself, just enough for at least most of the buffalo to take notice that it was clinking as if hitting against another rock. “Our exoskeletons are harder than most rocks,” he told them, with a truly genuine smile now, “we’ve dealt with them before. Trust us, their fangs will never go through.”
***
It worked! It really HAD worked! The buffalo really were that open and accepting! Even if it wasn’t romantic love, other forms of affection still served as sustenance for changelings, and even by just the end of their time speaking with Thunderhooves and Strongheart, the four of them had felt fed. The welcoming sentiments of the buffalo had actually been enough, not a gorging, not a power acquisition, but it left the four of them feeling sustained . . . feeling . . . like they weren’t starving anymore, for the first time in months.
Lieutenant Coarse was still smiling, even after they arrived back at the caves and the others departed. Two of them had families, and there was no doubt at all they were going to share some portion of the sustenance they’d gained with their mates and children. Their semi-hive-like functioning allowed for that much, though a changeling could never share out as much love or positive feeling as he or she had received themselves. But regardless . . . they could potentially visit with the buffalo on occasion, and Coarse had no doubt that they would receive much appreciation and kind gratitude whenever they were witnessed removing snakes. Perhaps gratitude would even work as well . . . perhaps this might just finally be peace for them, after so long . . .
Author's Note
Well, here this is, 150% jump up in length from the first chapter.
Fixed the spelling of Appleoosa as was pointed out to me last time, and tried me best to emulate each individual's voice as well as I could, since the particular setup I've got here contains quite a few unique characters.
The nation south of Equestria being Camella/Camelloo/whatever you want to call it I got from the Snowdrop animation, so credit that to them, and obviously I view that as canon as of this point.
Also, Helping Hooves is my first OC to be an Earth Pony, cause I feel they're severely overlooked and underrated. AND, on top of that, I've chosen to make him an aid worker, or whatever similar term you'd like to use, to kind of at least show my appreciation for those who take care of things that are typically looked down on as simple or tedious. I myself, as my bio states, am a Pharmacy student finishing year 3 & 1/2 (we can take a full courseload over the summer at my university, which I did last summer) as of next month, and am burning the whole way to Doctor of Pharmacy, however I don't overlook everyone in the medical field who handles EVERYTHING ELSE while us "snobbish" people with a capital D at the end of our name badge/tag peddle our minds away trying to determine what's wrong with someone, or in my case, determine EXACTLY what would be best to give them for it. But it's everyone else who holds the entire structure together and keeps it functioning.
Hoping everypony reading is enjoying, and if you're in school (at any level) be glad that the semester's end is approaching :)
Thankyou, all of you who do read, it makes me feel like my existence is worthwhile :D
