CiderCon Chronicles

Chapters

Chapter 1: Endings….
Chapter 2: Lost and Found
Chapter 3: Beginnings
Chapter 4: Love
Chapter 5: Shock
Chapter 6: Empathy
Chapter 7: Storm
Chapter 8: Exposition
Chapter 9: Name
Chapter 10:Neighbors
Chapter 11: Brunch
Chapter 12:Destiny
Chapter 13:Consequences
Chapter 14: The Magic of Friendship
Chapter 15: Larger World
Chapter 16 : The Center of Attention
Chapter 17 : Secrets
Chapter 18:Recipe
Chapter 19 : Happier Endings
One Shot 01 - Worthwhile
CC: Prologue
Chapter 20 : Epilogue

Chapter 1: Endings….

CiderCon Chronicles
Chapter 1: Endings

"A happy ending is all about where you stop your story." -
Clever Quill, Author

Super Speedy Cider Con was over.
Warm Welcome sat in her favorite chair in her cozy living room. A cheery fire blazed away in the fireplace, and cast it's comforting light into the otherwise dark house. Her son, Bramley, was asleep upstairs. He had succumbed hours ago to the contented weariness that comes after a hard job done well. So, Warm Welcome sat nursing a steaming mug of mulled cider and thinking. It seemed like only yesterday that she'd been given the opportunity to act as hostess of CiderCon. The Hinnyssee folks, and attendees alike were so overwhelmed by her capacity for Hospitality, her ability to Entertain guests, and her amazing cooking that they had agreed to make the position official and permanent. They even, jovially, referred to her as "Best Princess" and a local tailor made her wings and a horn. Which, by the way, Bramley likes to wear and pretend. As she thought, her eyes travelled to the picture of her beloved husband on the end table. Her husband was a soldier, and was currently away on active duty, but Warm Welcome would often talk to the picture as though it was his face.

"Oh I wish you could've seen Bramley today. He seemed to be everywhere, helping everybody, and he's so strong for his age! You'd have been proud of him." She was roused from her reverie by the sounds of ponies moving things outside. "Sugar and Saltlicks! here I am being leisurely when everyone else is still a'workin'!" Warm Welcome took another sip, set down her mug, and kissed her husband's picture. Then she went back outside to finish clearing away and storing everything until next year.

*****

A trio of changelings marched single file through the corridors of their hive, one at the front and rear leading a third in the middle.
As they walked, they did not communicate with one another. The armor clad changelings at the front and rear kept their eyes fixed firmly ahead. They were calm, unhurried, businesslike.

The changeling in the middle was a different story. He was distracted, worried, afraid. The changelings that accompanied him had shown up a short time ago and wordlessly ordered him to accompany them. Their armor and their bearing brooked no discussion. So, here he was in an unfamiliar part of the hive for an unknown purpose. A soft noise ahead drew his attention away from his thoughts. The changeling at the front nodded to two others on either side of the door that they were approaching. The two door guards snapped to attention, and opened the door.

He could see from the corridor that the room onto which it opened was unlike any other in the hive. Where other chambers within the hive were small and utilitarian, this room was expansive and luxurious by changeling standards.

"...what is this place...?" he thought to himself.

As he passed beneath the ornate doorframe and saw the shrouded dais at the end of the chamber he knew where he was.
And he felt the sick stab of dread in his gut.

"...The Mother...? ...No! …Not now!"

The armored ones brought him before the dais. The changeling in front spoke in their chittering, clacking language to the obscured occupant of the dais.

"We have brought it, Mother." the word "it" clearly meant as an insult.

After he spoke, he bowed, Then the two armored changelings took up positions to either side and slightly behind the third.
There was a flash of magic from the dais, and the diaphanous green material occluding it parted.

The two armored changelings bowed and made deferential noises.

The Third stood transfixed and unable to move or speak. He was in awe of the being before him. Although this changeling still had the same coloration and gauzy wings, the similarities ended there. She hardly needed the crown upon her head to command respect. She was larger than the rest of the changelings. Tall and, sinuous, and graceful. She exuded authority. She exuded malice.

She was their Mother.

She was their queen.

She addressed him from the dias in their native tongue. "You. Come forward."
Through the fear, he managed chitter "Yes, Mother. " in reply and do as she instructed. He looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes. It seemed an eternity before she chittered on.

"I have given you more than enough time. Are you ready?"

"...almost..." he chittered.

The Queen looked down on him with unabashed disgust.
"I didn't want to believe that this was true. I didn't want to believe that one of my subjects was so flawed, so… " she struggled for the right word "so defective." She raised her head imperiously, and locked eyes with him. "You are worthless to us."
Her eyes narrowed in rage. "Leave. Now. Never return."
"You are no longer part of my this hive! You are no longer part of my kingdom! You" she growled "...are banished!"

The little changeling reeled from her words. Each one struck him like a hammer blow. Ending with the word he feared most - p'tach - banished.
He fell, sobbing, and chittered desperately "...please Mother, don't do this! Please! Look how far I've come!..."
A "THWOOSH" sound accompanied a flash of colored fire that appeared around him. When the flash subsided, in the changeling's place stood a strange amalgam of creatures.

He was an odd mix of pegasus and changeling parts : yellow hide and orange mane, but where one wing was feathered and yellow, the other was his own buglike wing. Where there should have been bright blue eyes and a pink tail were a changeling's bulbous iris-less eyes and a short, black tail.

Panic mingled with rage as he chittered "Look! It's just the eyes and tail now! I usually get the wings right! I'm just nervous! Please! I'm trying! I just need more time! I…"

"Enough!" the Queen roared, and her horn glowed with magic.

He felt the flare of magic like a blow to the head, then numbness. He felt his legs go weak. He felt himself revert to his original form. He felt himself slipping into her magical sleep.
He heard the Mother, with ice in her tone chitter : "Get that worthless trash out of my sight."

Then there was darkness.

Chapter 2: Lost and Found

CiderCon Chronicles
Chapter 2: Lost and Found

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

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

"P'TACH"

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

"How will I eat?"

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

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

He hadn't been successful at either.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been abandoned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was awful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 3: Beginnings

CiderCon Chronicles
Chapter 3: Beginnings

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." -
Brokenhorn, Buffalo Chief

Bramley woke with a smile on his face. This wasn't unusual for the young colt. Life, to him, was an endless stream of adventures to have, ponies to help, and new things to experience.
His smile was a little wider, though, because school was out today. That meant once Bramley had his chores done the day was his!
The Princesses had barely traded night for day, but Bramley was up and at it.
He was a bundle of energy with a shock of salmon hair and a vest bouncing from one chore to the next. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Bramley's was finished with the last chore. He was sitting in the kitchen reading a comic and eating a bowl of cereal when his Mother, Warm Welcome, came in.

"Mummimm Muhmuh." he said around a mouthful of cereal. A blush rose on his cheeks as he realized what he'd done. He hastily chewed, swallowed, and spoke again.

"Sorry." he said in apology for his lapse in manners "Mornin' Mama."
Warm Welcome gave him a smile that contained all her depth of love for him. "Mornin' Bramley." "So, " she began, while making a cup of tea for herself, "what is my little stallion gettin' up to today?"
"Well, I thought I'd do a little fishin', then go down to the creek and look for crawdads, and maybe work on m' fort a little, and then be back here in time for lunch n' all."
Warm Welcome beamed at her son.
" All right then Bram, so long you're back here by lunchtime."
"Thanks Mama." Bramley replied
He finished the last spoonful of cereal. As he was taking his bowl to the sink to wash it, his mother intercepted him and took it.
"I'll take care o' this, son. You go have fun. "
Bramley smiled in gratitude.
"Thanks, Mama."

Bramley pushed his chair in and put his comic away while Warm Welcome washed his bowl and spoon. Bramley walked over to stand next to her. He laid his head against her and said "I love you."
Warm Welcome laid her head on top of his and said "And I love you."
They stayed like that for a moment, united by their love for each other and by the unspoken truth that they both were missing Bramley's dad.
When a rooster crowed outside, Warm Welcome exclaimed "Ponyfeathers, son. The day's a' wastin' ! You better git!"
Bramley smiled his crooked, sheepish grin at her, grabbed his fishing gear, and dashed out the door bound for adventure.

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

Bramley did everything he planned.

And then some.

After fishing, on his way down the dirt road to the creek, he'd run into one of the local farmers, Plowshare. He'd been a part of the community for as long as anyone could remember. Despite his age, he was still strong and spry. Today, though, pulling the cart loaded with sacks of seed and supplies seemed to be getting to him. Bramley trotted up to him.

"Mornin' Mister Plowshare."

Plowshare stopped, and greeted Bramley.

"Mornin' son." He spotted Bramley's fishing gear. "How's the fishin' today?"

"Good! They sure are a' bitin'," he exclaimed.

"Well, maybe once I get these supplies home and put away, I'll get down there and see fer m'self."

"Well, " Bramley said, "how about I help you get this cart home and such and then you can be at the fishin' hole all the sooner?"

"Oh, son, I couldn't ask that o' you. I can manage."

Bramley cocked his head and spoke conspiritorially to him.

"Now, you know if my Mama found out I didn't help you I'd get a talkin' to."

He paused, and smiled his lopsided grin at him.

"Ya' don't want to get me in hot water, do ya'?"

Plowshare chuckled and smiled warmly back at him.

" Well, I reckon I wouldn't."

So Bramley stowed his fishing gear, then yoked himself up next to Plowshare. In no time they were at his farm. Bramley helped him store his cartload, and took off to head to the creek.
"Bye, Mister Plowshare. Thanks!" He called over his shoulder.
"No, son, thank you!" He called, waving to Bramley as he disappeared at full gallop up the road.

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

The same exchange was repeated all morning.

A neighbor out cutting wood, another out collecting herbs and roots, yet another mending their fence.

Bramley was there to give a helping hoof to any and all who need one.

It was nearly lunchtime, and he had just finished helping Green Gardens plant a row of cabbages. He needed to get home quickly, so he took a shortcut through the woods on the outskirts of town.

The forest was dense and inhospitable here, but Bramley was accustomed to it. He heard a faint noise. He stopped, swivelling his ears this way and that to narrow down where it was coming from.It sounded like a fire, but not quite. It was a clicking, clacking, chittering noise.

"That a' way." he said to himself, and set off warily.

As he got closer he heard it again, this time accompanied by the sound of dead leaves rustling.
He was getting closer.
He reached the lip of a shallow natural gully, and looked down. He stood there for a few seconds, dumbstruck at the sight at the bottom of the gully.

It looked like something that somepony would dress up as on Nightmare Night. It appeared to be a skeletal, coal black, cross between an alicorn and a beetle.
As it lay there in the gully, it appeared to be sleeping fitfully. Every now and then it would make noises like it was talking in it's sleep in a language that he didn't understand. Sometimes the "talking" was accompanied with spasmodic jerks of its legs.

He realized, then that he was still out in the open, and if it woke up now he might spook it. He took cover in some dense bushes to his left, and crouched down so he could see but not be seen.
As if on cue, once Bramley had settled himself, the creature awoke. It looked like it was getting ready to leave, then it froze. Its head whipped around, like it was looking for something.
Then Bramley realized it knew somehow that he was there.
He wondered how it might react. Was it dangerous? It looked sickly, but Bramley had never seen anything like it so it was hard to tell. What would it do?
He saw the creature get to its feet. It was obvious that its legs were weak. It was sick, Bramley was sure of it now.

Then it bared it fangs, and hissed.

Even though Bramley knew it was sick, the effect was fearsome enough to startle him.
He gasped and fell back on his rump.
The creature turned its eyes towards him.
Bramley wasn't sure whether to run or not.
On the one hoof, this critter was obviously sick, and sick critters were often more dangerous.
On the other hoof, this critter was obviously sick, and without his help would probably die.
On the one hoof, it looked so strange, horrifying, and alien.
On the other hoof, it didn't take a lot of imagination to see how similar they were too.

For Bramley, there was really only one choice.

He had to help. It was the right thing to do.

He stood up, steeled himself against the fear, and began walking slowly forward. He saw shock and dismay flash across the creature's face.
He took a step closer.

There was panic in the creature's eyes. Bramley readied himself. He knew that in the next few moments the creature would either run, attack, or acquiesce.

The seconds dragged into what seemed like hours as he waited, motionless.

Something flashed in the creature's expression.
The top half of it decided to run, but the bottom half seemed to disagree. It fell hard, and lay there, panting.

Bramley's heart broke for it.

Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes as the direness of the situation set it.
It wasn't just sick, it was at death's doorstep.

"Sugar and Saltlicks, you're in bad shape..." Bramley said.
He realized that he was scared. Not scared for himself, but scared for it. He started to panic that it would die before he could help.
He caught himself. He wasn't sure if this thing could smell fear or not. Even if it couldn't, fear might keep him from thinking straight.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya'. Mama taught me we should care for the ones 'at can't take care o' themselves."
He extended a hoof towards it like he'd been taught to do with dogs or cats that weren't familiar with him.

"My name's Bramley, what's yours?" he said, knowing full well that this creature was in no condition to speak.

He inched closer. It thrashed feebly, and its eyes started to roll back in its head.

Bramley knew he had to go get help.

"I'll be right back. You're gonna' be fine. I'm gonna' go get my Mama and some food, and we'll get you fixed up. Please don't go nowhere."

He knew that the last part was probably pointless, that it was beyond the point of going anywhere on its own.

He turned, and ran from the gully at full gallop.

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

Branches whipped his cheeks, and brambles tore at his legs as he galloped heedlessly through the woods. He knew there wasn't a moment to waste. He broke free of the forest and in to his yard, yelling for his Mama at the top of his lungs.

He burst through the back door, casting good manners aside be letting the screen door slam and yelling "Mama! C'mere! Quick!"
He ran through the house yelling for her, but she wasn't there. Back in the kitchen he noticed the clock. It was an hour later than when he said he'd be home. His mom had probably gone out to look for him.
For a moment, he wasn't sure of what to do. He thought about going to the neighbors for help. His family lived just outside town near the festival grounds, though, so the closest neighbor was several minutes away.

Minutes that he might not have.

"I'm on ma' own." he thought.
The thought frightened him. He wasn't the town doctor, and didn't know what to do to save this creature.

Then it hit him.

"I just need to buy him a little time. Time for me to get more help..."he said.

Heartened by the realization, he mentally replayed the scene from the gully to determine what its immediate needs might be.

It was chilly this morning, it was probably cold.
It had cuts and scratches all over, the first aid kit would help with some of them.
It was skinny, it needed to eat.

He set about gathering the things he needed, and staging them by the back door. He grabbed a blanket, and the first aid kit from the bathroom, now he just needed food.
He looked around the kitchen, and saw the pie sitting on the windowsill to cool. He hastily cut out half and wrapped it in a clean dishtowel from the drawer.
He quickly scribbled out a note to tell his mom where he was, and what had happened.
He placed the collected supplies in the saddlebaskets they kept by the backdoor and took off again.

He hoped he wouldn't be too late.

Chapter 4: Love

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 4:

Love

"...never say "no" to pie..."
Clean Plate, Gourmand

The changeling heard the little colt returning long before he saw him. The pounding of his hooves, and breaking of underbrush clearly marking his return.
In his absence, the changeling had slipped in and out of consciousness so he was unsure how much time had passed. He still felt apprehension about the colt's return.
He feared that when the little pony returned, it would be with others. Others whose intent would be to drive him away.

He was still trying to make sense of their first encounter. The changeling had been sure that when the colt had emerged from hiding after being hissed at,it would be to chase him away or to do violence to him.
Instead, he approached with kindness, and calm. Then there was the utterly confusing conclusion to their first encounter.
He had collapsed, his strength completely spent. He heard the colt approach.

Then love and kindness washed over him.

He was confused. There must have been another pony nearby. Surely this little colt, this Bramley, wasn't feeling this way towards him. Was he?

No. That couldn't be right.

Mother didn't feel those things, why would any other creature.

Nevertheless, the emotions flowed, and he consumed them. They weren't much. Just a life preserver thrown to a drowning pony who had yet to be pulled to safety.
But, it was enough. Enough to keep him in this world for a bit longer. Enough to instill in him the long forgotten commodity known as hope.

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

The changeling saw Bramley tear through the last of the forest at the top of the gully, and feigned unconsciousness. He looked around surreptitously through a partially open eye.

He was relieved to see that the colt had returned alone.

He watched the little pony stop a few paces away, and unencumber himself of the saddlebaskets. Bramley unfolded a patchwork quilt, and walked slowly towards the changeling with it.
As Bramley draped the quilt over him, he felt his own meager warmth reflect back to him. A sigh escaped his nostrils at the sensation of warmth.

Bramley, hearing the sigh, looked down at the changeling and smiled.

"Good." He said. "You're still with us."

The changeling opened his eyes, and looked up into Bramley's.

"Well, I figure you oughta try and eat somethin' next. I mean, you got some cuts and scrapes and all, but nothin' that looked like it put you in this state."
" Unless you usually look like a skeleton, I'd figure you're starvin'."

The changeling was unsure how Bramley was going to feed him, but was hopeful after their previous encounter.

Bramley reached over to the baskets and withdrew a piece of fabric with something inside. "This," he was saying, "is some of my Mama's apple pie."
He eyed Bramley dubiously, unsure of what "pie" meant, but fearing that it was "food".
Bramley partially unfolded the cloth and fiddled with the contents. He pulled off a roughly slice shaped piece and presented it to the changeling.

The changeling goggled at the slice. His stomach recoiled at the memory of the other triangle-shaped, mud-tasting, "food". He moved his head to escape from it.
"C'mon, " said Bramley, unabated. "You gotta eat sumthin'." He moved the pie nearer to the changeling's face.
The changeling bared his fangs.

He inhaled to hiss at Bramley...

...and got a good whiff of the pie.

It smelled differently than other food. It was sweet, warm,and appetizing.
The changeling stopped, dumbstruck. For a moment, he stopped seeing the pie through the prism of his previous food debacle, and experienced it objectively.
It exuded warmth, kindness, love.
It gave them off in waves. It was as though someone had concentrated those feelings, and caused them to coalesce into this form.
He looked at Bramley. He looked at the pie. He looked at Bramley.
Bramley smiled reassuringly, and edged the slice closer.
The changeling leaned his head towards it, and took an exploratory bite.

The effect was like nothing he'd ever experienced.

It filled his mouth with happiness and joy.
When he swallowed it was as though he had swallowed a fragment of the sun. Life giving warmth radiated from it as it went down. Life, and light, and heat travelling to every atom of his being enervating
his listless body. He was aware of the sting of joyful tears at the corners of his eyes, but the sensation came from far away. He was adrift on a sea of tranquility.
He felt renewed, and strong, and peaceful.
He stood there, eyes closed and still as stone, and bathed in the sensation. In time, the light of the inner sun faded, but the vigor that it radiated stayed.

Bramley watched him with a rising sense of fear that something was wrong. The creature was standing there, crying wordlessly.

As the last of the sensation faded, the changeling's eyes fluttered open and he stared at the pie in wonder.

Then he looked to Bramley and smiled. Bramley smiled back at him.

He chittered something in his own language then, realizing that Bramley couldn't understand him, furrowed his brow.
There was a "FWOOSH" of colored fire.

Now it was Bramley's turn to be confused. A moment ago, the alicorn-beetle thing stood in front of him. Then it was on fire. Now the alicorn-beetle was gone, but in it's place was him. Sort of.
It was wearing a vest identical to his upon its salmon colored body, and a short black horn protruded from under his light green hair, and the creature's bug wings and bulbous eyes remained.

Bramley stared at in a mix of wonderment and horror.

The changeling saw the emotions on Bramley's face, and his heart fell. He feared this was all about to end badly.

"W Wh..." Bramley stammered. His mouth fell open into an "O".

"That's... "

Bramley's expression changed to joy. Words tumbled from his mouth in a rush.

"That's amazin' ! Fingle fangle ! I can't believe you can do something like that. I ain't never seen anything like that before ! What else can you do? Can you do magic tricks? How does it work? Can you turn into a dragon? Can you breathe fire?"

Bramley caught himself. As amazing as this creature was, and as much as his ministrations had seemed to help, he was still not well.

"Sorry," Bramley apologized. "I just ain't never seen anything like that." Bramley smiled his crooked, sheepish grin.

The changeling beamed at him. Ecstatic that Bramley was not repulsed by him.

Then he croaked out the first words he'd spoken in longer than he could remember.

"More pie?"

Bramley smiled at the situation. Here was some creature from a nightmare lying at the bottom of a gully, covered up with one of his Mama's quilts, and asking for more of the pie that had, seemingly,
brought it back to life. He laughed out loud as he broke off another piece and handed it the creature, saying "Yes, sir! Comin' right up! "

Their merriment was interrupted by the sound of snapping branches at the top of the gully, and a mare's voice.

"Bramley! Git away! That thing's dangerous!"

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

Chapter 5: Shock

CiderCon Chronicles
Chapter 5: Shock

"...no matter how prepared you are, things you're not prepared for still happen..." -
Tool Bag, Chief Engineer at the Ritz Stallion Hotel, Manehattan

Warm Welcome was angry.
This was noteworthy because it was so rare.
She was gifted from birth with a joyful attitude and an calm nature that made most irritations just slide off of her.

Today, though, she was angry.

She stood in the kitchen tapping her hoof impatiently on the counter.

She was angry because her son, Bramley, was late coming home for lunch.
She was angry because he had said that he would be home for lunch.
She was angry because she had made his favorite pie as a special treat.
She was angry because it wasn't like him to be late.

She was angry because she was worried.

She couldn't bear the thought of something happening to Bramley, so it was easier to think that he was misbehaving rather than the alternatives.

But he was thirty minutes late, and that was just something Bramley didn't do.

Something was wrong, it had to be.

Her anger dropped away, and she was afraid.

She decided to go out and look for him.

Thinking back to their conversation that morning, Warm Welcome mentally noted the places Bramley said he was going, and headed off for the pond.

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

He wasn't at the pond, or the creek, and he wasn't at his fort.

She hadn't, unfortunately, run into any of the ponies that Bramley had assisted and who might have helped put some of her fears to rest. So, now she was really scared.
Not panicky, not frantic, Warm Welcome didn't react to fear that way. She stayed calm despite her fear. It was one of the many things her husband loved about her.
In a situation that would send most people into a tizzy, Warm Welcome retained her poise, and her senses.

She decided to return home and check for him there before she went into town to get the Constable and some others to help look.

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

When she came in through the front door, she noticed that a quilt was missing from the quilt ladder in the living room. Someone had been here.

"Bramley?" she called hopefully. When there was no reply, she proceeded through the den towards the kitchen. As she passed the bathroom, she noticed that the cabinet doors were open.

She continued on to the kitchen, and surveyed it as Bramley had left it. Drawers open, muddy hoofprints on the floor, half of a pie laying in its plate on the counter.

Then she saw the note.

She hurried over and read it.

Her heart leapt! Bramley was safe.

"Bless his heart." she said to herself. "Carin' for some sick critter out in the woods."

She chuckled to herself " Nearly killed me doin' it, though."

She recalled the Doc wasn't in his office today, so he couldn't help. She'd seen him earlier in the week and knew he was going to Appleloosa to get supplies.

"I guess it's just Bramley an' me." she said to herself, and trotted out the back door to head for the gully.

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

"It's... no... wonder... no... pony... lives... out... here...", Warm Welcome said, punctuating every word by beating aside greenery as she thrashed her way through the dense woods.

She realized how difficult it must've been even for a colt Bramley's size to make it through here. For Warm Welcome, it was nearly impassable.

After what seemed like hours, the undergrowth began to thin, and she figured she was nearing the gully. A few more steps, and sure enough the forest cleared away to make room for the wide, deep, lightly wooded expanse of the gully. Warm Welcome walked to the edge, and looked left and right. She didn't see Bramley anywhere close. She decided to try to her right first, roughly away from town, and to keep to the top edge of the gully. She resisted the urge to call for Bramley. He hadn't said what sort of creature he was caring for, and she didn't want to risk accidentally spooking a critter that could hurt Bramley. After picking her way along the gully's edge for several minutes, she caught sight of movement at the bottom of the gully just ahead. She was passing by a copse of skinny trees that stubbornly clung to life at the gully's edge despite the fact that half of their roots extended into thin air. They frustratingly obscured her vision as she approached. As she edged closer, looking for an easy descent into the gully, an opening in the trees presented itself and the gully floor was visible.

On her way here, Warm Welcome had tried to prepare herself for the possibilities of what sort of creature Bramley had found. Seeing how inhospitable this area was she was increasingly sure that it wouldn't be a dog or a cat. Maybe a squirrel, she thought, or a rabbit. She had pondered the possibility of an abandoned bear or bobcat cub. She had even, despite their rarity in the area, considered the possibility of a Timberwolf.

What she had not prepared for was what she actually found.

The thing she saw at the bottom of the gully was undoubtedly a changeling! She had heard about them disrupting the royal wedding a few years back. She knew both from the papers, and from first hand accounts from ponies who had been present during the invasion about how dangerous they could be. Ponies had told stories at CiderCon over the years about them. Creatures, the stories said, that ate other ponies' souls leaving a shriveled up husk behind. Creatures that would then take that pony's place, and feed on others.

She stared, eyes wide in horror, as, in a "FWOOSH" of colored fire, the creature changed forms. Terror shut her ears, rooted her feet, locked her jaws, and narrowed her vision to a tunnel. She realized, dimly, that she was starting to pass out. The creature seemed to be practicing becoming Bramley. She assumed that the more of the pony they consumed, the better they'd get. She saw Bramley's mouth open in a silent scream. Then, she saw him begin to talk a mile a minute. He's scared, and pleading for his life, she thought. She tried desperately to move, to speak, but she found herself unable.
She watched as the changeling opened his mouth and spoke, Bramley seemed to laugh. The strangeness of Bramley's reaction somehow shook her free of her stupefaction.
She was in control of her faculties again. She took a faltering step forward and heard herself yell.

"Bramley! Git away! That thing's dangerous!"

Chapter 6: Empathy

CiderCon Chronicles
Chapter 6: Empathy

"...Studies show the youngest ponies have the greatest capacity for empathy..." -
Clipboard, Behavioral Scientist

Bramley goggled at his mom from the bottom of the gully. He had never seen her so panicked. He had never heard the edge of terror in her voice as he had just now.

It was enough to make him re-think what he was doing.

He looked at the changeling, then at his mother, then the changeling again.
He was becoming increasingly confused, unable to reconcile his mother's fear with his own experience.
He trusted his mom, but this just didn't make sense.

He let his trust take over, and edged a step or two away from the changeling.

The changeling, already inwardly cowering at this angry mare's loud entrance, felt betrayal and sadness at Bramley's acquiescence.

He heard Bramley begin to speak. He saw, from the corner of his eye, the mare begin to quickly pick her way down the gully.

"Mama," Bramley was saying, "calm down a minute. I'm just fine." He moved closer to where the mare would reach the gully floor.

Warm Welcome's gaze had travelled from Bramley, to the changeling, to her footing all the way down the gully. When she reached the bottom, she interposed herself between Bramley and the changeling.

"Bramley." She said, not glancing back at him. "Go. I'll keep this thing here. Go get the constable."

"What? Why? Mama, I don't understand."

"That thing is dangerous", she reiterated, "I've heard of em' before. They eat ponies' souls and take their places!"

Bramley was confused before, but now he was completely lost.

A "...what?..." was all he could muster in response.

Warm Welcome was starting to get angry with Bramley's reactions when a thought occurred to her. Magic! Bramley must be under some sort of spell!

"You", she said, addressing the changeling directly for the first time. "You did this. Undo it. This spell you have on 'im."

Warm Welcome braced herself for the attack that she thought might be forthcoming. She spread her stance wider, dug in.

The changeling was dumbstruck. He was unable to conjure a single sound, let alone string several together into a coherent sentence. He stood there stock still. This was the realization of his worst fears.
Before he met Bramley, he had resigned himself to death. Bramley had given him hope, and he had begun to think that maybe there was a life for him somewhere other than the hive.

Now, his hope was crumbling. He cursed himself inwardly for letting himself feel it in the first place.

He figured that it would be like this in the end. That some other pony would come with raised voice and the threat of violence to drive him away to a cold, lonely death someplace else.

"You heard me!" The mare yelled at him.

"I... I..." the changeling stammered. He wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding. He wanted to apologize for getting Bramley in trouble. He wanted to apologize for being born.

His bewilderment manifested itself in a "FWOOSH" of colored fire. When it subsided, the changeling appearance was a representation of his roiling emotions. One yellow pegasus wing, one changeling wing, a horn that was half his own and half a yellow unicorn's, the changeling's eyes and black muzzle on an otherwise yellow face, a pink mane with a changeling's spines showing through, and a body that looked like somepony had taken pieces of a yellow pony and a changeling and stitched them together at random.

He felt tears sting his eyes. He felt a sob catch in his throat.

Then the exertion caught up with him.

A short time ago he was at death's doorstep, even with the pie's miraculous invigorating effects he was still in desperate need of rest and food.

His knees went weak, the sob finally dislodged itself from his throat and croaked forth, his vision went black.

The last things he knew before he succumbed to unconsciousness were the pain of his face hitting the ground, and Bramley's voice saying "Mama! Stop!"

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

The "FWOOSH" of colored fire had shocked Bramley from his stupor.

He still couldn't connect all the dots as to why his mama was so scared of the "changeling".

To him it was just another living thing that needed help.

To his mama, it was a monster from the depths of another monster's worst nightmares.

He had seen it eat, and ask for more of, his mama's pie

She said that it ate ponies souls.

He loved and trusted his mama. His trust for her, and his experience so far with the changeling were at war within him.
He was trying to come up with the right way to try and diffuse this situation, but was at a loss.
When he saw what emerged from the fire, and saw the naked despair on the changeling's face his heart broke for it.

A lifetime of being taught to take care of those weaker than himself overrode anything else he was feeling.

From behind Warm Welcome he yelled "Mama! Stop!"

There was no anger in his interjection, only assertiveness. Like the tone a parent might use to stop a child in a dangerous situation. Loud, commanding, strong.
Warm Welcome looked over her shoulder at Bramley, eyes wide with surprise.

He saw the changeling collapse, and rushed to its side.

"Bramley, get back here. You don't understand how dangerous that thing is." Warm Welcome hissed.

"Mama, I don't understand. You always taught me to care for them that need help."

"This is different." Warm Welcome replied. "That's not just some stray cat, or an abandoned raccoon. It's a monster. Those things invaded the royal wedding and tried to take over the kingdom.
They hurt a lot of ponies doing it."

"Maybe so, but this one was alone and starvin' when I found it. This one needs our help. And if we don't help, then we ain't no better than they are."

Warm Welcome watched as her son pulled the blanket over to it and carefully covered it up. Bramley removed his vest and rolled it up, placing it under the changeling's head like a pillow.

"Bramley...?" she began. She saw Bramley examine where the changeling had hit his head. There was a gash there. Bramley opened the first aid kit and hesitated, his confidence fading away before her eyes. She knew that look. Bramley didn't know what to do.

He looked up at her, a pleading look in his eyes, and said :"Mama, help me. Please."

Warm Welcome looked at her son. A boy on the verge of tears over the suffering of a creature that almost anypony else, herself included, considered a monster.

Something clicked inside her. All the pieces fell into place.

Bramley is smart .
Bramley is kindhearted.
Bramley has done what we've raised him to do. Including, she realized, standing up to her when she was acting like a bully.
Bramley is looking to me to live like I've taught him to.

Warm Welcome looked at the changeling and saw him through Bramley's eyes.

She walked over, sat down next to Bramley, and stroked his hair for a moment. She looked in his eyes and said "You did the right thing, son."

Bramley beamed at the praise, and the realization that she was going to help.

"Alright", she said, assessing the situation, "let's see what we can do for this little fella'."

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

Chapter 7: Storm

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 7:

Storm

"...remember, the storm is a good opportunity for the pine and the cypress to show their strength and stability..."
- Good Roots, Arborist

The changeling was running through a dense forest alone on a dark, moonless night.

Around him in the darkness an army of thick, black, thorny vines wound it's way ceaselessly towards him. They wound over and around everything in their path, leaving only darkness in their wake.
Although his fear of the vines was great, what drove his legs to run was the goal ahead of him. He didn't know yet what it was, only that it was imperative that he reach it.
He ran on, dodging and leaping obstacles. Instinct guided his feet towards his goal.
He felt the vines snaking ever closer, and picked up his pace.

Suddenly, he was there.

There, huddled in the darkness, were Bramley and Warm Welcome. They held one another in wordless fear of the vines that now encircled them. The changeling walked over and quietly sat down next to Bramley.
Now that he had reached his goal, the horror of the situation washed over him. The three of them sat in the midst of a veritable sea of encroaching thorns. As far as they could see, nothing but vines existed.
He looked at Bramley and Warm Welcome and saw the unabashed fear in their eyes. He leaned closer and put his hooves around them.
The three of them huddled together in impotent fear as the vines closed in.

Thunder roared, a peal loud enough to shake the ground.

He awoke from the nightmare with a start, and sat bolt upright.

He looked around, utterly disoriented.

He was in a bed in a darkened room somewhere. It was night. There was a storm raging outside.

He struggled to piece things together.
He remembered being in the gully and the confrontation with Bramley's Parent (he couldn't bring himself to use the term "Mother").
He remembered passing out.
The events in the dark forest with the vines had, apparently, been a nightmare.
He must have been brought here (wherever that was) while he was unconscious, and he must have been out for quite a while because it was early afternoon when the events at the gully happened.
As the initial shock wore off, he began to notice more details about his surroundings. On the bedside table was a framed photo of a group of colts and fillies arranged in rows with a older mare standing beside them. In front of the first row was a sign that read "Miss Slate - First Grade".
He spotted, amongst the group of 10 or so, a colt that was undeniably a younger version of Bramley.
Across the room, atop a chest of drawers, was a photograph of Bramley's (what did he call her?) “mama” grinning from ear to ear holding a "pie" in one hand and a ribbon with the words "1ST PLACE" in the other.

"So this must be their house." he thought to himself, as he could think of no good reason for a stranger to have pictures of another family.

For several minutes he sat there, unsure of what to do next. He collapsed before Warm Welcome had her change of heart so, as far as he knew, she was still fearful and angry.
On the other hoof, though, he was in their house so that was a good sign. Also encouraging was the fact that he wasn't tied to the bed or otherwise restrained.
He tried for several minutes to listen for sounds of movement or voices from the rest of the house, but the rain and wind buffeting the house made it impossible to hear beyond his room.

At last he decided to get out of bed and investigate. He slid out from under the covers and placed his back hooves on the floor. He winced as the floorboards creaked loudly.
He crept to the door and tried the knob. It wasn't locked, and he took that as a good sign. He opened the door, and peered out.

The room that he was in was at the end of the hall at the top of a staircase. To his right, and across the hallway were two other doors that he assumed were other sleeping rooms.
Now that he was in an interior hallway with a little bit of buffer from the white noise of the storm he could hear voices downstairs. He waited for a moment, listening to the voices.
He couldn't make out what they were saying, but at least he was pretty sure that it was just Bramley and Warm Welcome.

He moved toward the staircase. Although he was scared, and hesitant, he fought the urge to move stealthily. He didn't want it to seem like he was trying to "sneak".

As he neared the top landing, the voices were much clearer. He was sure now that it was just the colt and his Mama. Their conversation was light, jovial. They were discussing some recent event.

He took a deep breath, and started down the stairs.
The stairs creaked, and the conversation downstairs stopped.
He continued his descent into the lower level of the house.
Half way down, the right side of the staircase wall opened into the large downstairs room, and an ornate wooden banister took its place.
He hesitated at that last step. He stooped to peer out into the room below.

And was met by two smiling faces.

Warm Welcome spoke first "Thank goodness you're up! You had us a mite worried!"

The changeling goggled at her, dumbstruck.

Bramley chimed in "C'mon down. We can getcha sumthin more ta' eat. And we'd love to get a chance to visit with ya' a little."

The changeling came the rest of the way downstairs, and was beset by a storm of "hospitality".

Warm Welcome ushered him into a chair by the fire, and settled him in with pillows and blankets. Bramley hurried to the kitchen and returned with a whole pie, which he placed on the end table beside
the changeling. He allowed himself to be swept along by their kindness, to just give in and let himself be cared for. When Warm Welcome and Bramley had finished with their ministrations, they settled themselves back down onto the couch, and looked expectantly at him.

He looked into their eyes, and saw nothing but kindness, love, and charity.

He smiled wider that he ever remembered smiling before, and cried.

After a few moments, he wiped his eyes. When he looked back at Bramley and Warm Welcome, he saw that they were crying as well.

He looked at them and began to speak, but caught himself when he remembered that they couldn't understand his language.

Warm Welcome saw an apologetic look in the changeling's eyes. Then a "FWOOSH" of colored fire exchanged the changeling's form for his piecemeal pony-changeling shape.

She was glad to see that the "fire" didn't set her chair or blankets ablaze, on the contrary, it didn't give off any heat at all.

He looked at the ground in embarrassment, and his words came out in a jumble.

"I'm sorry Ma'am. I don't want to startle you or upset you. I'm so grateful for your kindness, and I can't speak like this in my normal form. I just had to do this so I could say thank you. I'd have died if it weren't for you and your son's efforts to save me. You got so angry when I changed before. Please don't be angry with me. I promise I’d never hurt either of you, I just..."

His words trailed off as he felt a mare's hoof slip around his shoulders, and draw him into an embrace. He melted into it, and began to sob.

He could feel the love blazing from her, nourishing him.

Warm Welcome held him and cried with him for several minutes. When his tears subsided, Warm Welcome quietly said to him :

"Sugar, I'm sorry for the way I treated ya'. I don't know what happened to ya', or how ya' came to be here, but we'll help ya' get better."

Bramley walked up and added his hooves to the mix.

The three stood and held each other, while outside the storm raged on.

Chapter 8: Exposition

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 8:

Exposition

"You are not what others see. You are what time and effort and interaction slowly unveil." -
Summer Lime, Therapist

The storm continued to bluster and blow outside, but that didn't bother the three of them.

They could be stuck here for a week and it wouldn't bother them.

They had everything that they needed: shelter, supplies, and each other.

For the past few hours, Bramley and Warm Welcome had regaled him with tales of their parts of the events leading up to the gully. The changeling looked at Bramley with another layer of admiration as
Warm Welcome told him about what transpired while he was unconscious. Then, at last, the story reached its conclusion: a heavy storm had rolled in without warning, and they had dragged the changeling home through the woods on the blanket.

Their story done, silence fell.

The changeling sat for a few moments, taking it all in.

He took bite of pie to pluck up his courage, "FWOOSHED" into his piecemeal form, and launched into his own tale.

For their parts, Bramley and Warm Welcome were a wonderful audience. They sat enthralled by his tale. Warm Welcome reacted with a mix of sympathy and maternal rage as he told them about his last audience with the Mother. They gasped at the right places, cried at the right places, and went with him on his emotional journey.

Then, at last, his tale was done too.

Warm Welcome walked over to him, wrapped him in another hug, and said : " I'm so sorry for all that's happened to ya'. I'm sorry more ponyfolk haven't seen ya' for what ya' are. Maybe it ain't my place
to say so, but this "mother" o' yours ain't no kind of real mother. She shoulda been a helping hoof to lift ya' up, not a hoof slappin' ya' down. "

They shared the embrace for several minutes. Warm Welcome would never know just how much good the outpouring of emotion was doing for the changeling. Not only was it a balm to his own fractured
emotions, but life giving nutrition as well.

When they parted, Bramley was asleep on the couch. The emotional ride of the changeling's story had consumed the last flagging remnants of his endurance.
They had all had a long day, but that little colt had done the work of a half-dozen ponies and been at it since before dawn.

Warm Welcome smiled lovingly at her son. She eased him into a more comfortable position on the couch, and covered him up. She sat down, and took a sip from her steaming mug. The changeling
could see the hesitation on her face, and asked her "What is the matter?"

She glanced at him, an embarrassed blush painting her cheeks. "Well, I... " she began. "No, nevermind."

"Please, speak your mind." the changeling nudged.

"Well, I was wonderin' how long you can go on eatin' pie before you've gotta have another soul, 'er whatever..." she trailed off.

The changeling looked at her, confused, but then remembered her words in the gully. She was woefully misinformed about how changelings worked.

So, for quite some time the changeling and Warm Welcome talked about his species. She asked questions, the changeling answered truthfully, and together they dispelled her misconceptions about changelings.

When they were finished, Warm Welcome leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, processing the glut of new information.

The changeling was worried that when she had processed it all, the result would be his ejection from the house.
He was dreadfully afraid to impart some of the information that he had given her. The changelings were, after all, a symbiotic predator that preyed on ponies.
He had wanted to be brutally honest with her, though, because he felt that lying, or omission would be a bad hoof on which to start a relationship.

"Well..." she said, still staring at the ceiling, " I can't say I like the idea of another pony living off a' me, but I guess everypony's gotta eat."
"Besides..." she continued, lowering her gaze to look into the changeling's eyes, " y'all are just doing what comes natural. I may not like it that bears an' timberwolves eat other creatures, but its their nature.
There ain't no malice in it. "

"That 'mother' a' yours may be a different story, though..." she added.

"Thank ya' 'fer being honest with me."

There was relief in the changeling's heart, and relief etched into his features. He had told her everything about his race, warts and all, and she was still treating him the same as she was when they started.

"None a' that explains why ya' can eat pie, though..." She said, half as a statement to herself, and half as a question for the changeling.

"You told us about the pizza an' all. I don't see why pie should be any different. "

The changeling shrugged, at a loss for an explanation.

"Well, I don't think that just any pie would do, though. Like I said, when Bramley first brought me the pie, I refused it. When he brought is closer, though, It smelled completely different than other food."

Warm Welcome furrowed her brow in thought. "But I don't see why the pie I made fer' Bramley..."

She stopped, and the light of understanding dawned in her features. Without a word, she jumped off of the couch and made for the kitchen. From the icebox she retrieved a covered dish containing a casserole she had made for a dinner with an old school friend a few nights ago.

The changeling was perplexed about her sudden, wordless departure. His confusion was heightened a moment later when she returned with the glass dish. She walked up to him, picked up the fork from his pie plate, and dug out a forkful of the casserole.

"Here! Try this!" she demanded, swept away in the excitement of the moment. She saw the changeling's eyes wide with shock, and realized her lapse in manners.

She shook her head, and said : "Sorry, I got a little carried away. I just had an idea that I wanted to test. Please take a whiff a' this and tell me what ya' think."

The changeling seemed dubious, but obliged her and took an experimental sniff.

It was delightful. It was similar to the pie, but different. First, it was obviously less fresh than the pie. He smelled love and joy, but only faintly, like the pleasant memories of last week.
He opened his mouth and accepted the forkful. Again, like the pie, there was a rush of the emotion flooding his body. Where the pie had been an almost overwhelming tidal wave of emotion, the casserole was like the ebb of a tide.

He smiled. "It's wonderful." He said.

"But, what does it taste like?" inquired Warm Welcome. "Tell me how th' casserole tastes compared to the pie."

The changeling looked at her for a moment, understanding dawning. He tried a forkful of the pie.

"Love." He said. "There's other emotions, but I can't taste them over the love."

She nodded, smiling.

"And the casserole?" She prompted.

He tried another forkful.

"Love, happiness, even..." he trailed off, deep in thought, "a hint of sadness."

She smiled, and her eyes stung with happy tears. Her suspicions were confirmed.

Folk had always raved over the wonders that came from her kitchen. Her cooking brought ponyfolk together, united them in camaraderie, and on more than one occasion ended a feud between neighbors.
At one particular dinner, a neighbor had described her food by saying "Every bite is like a big ol' hug!"

She had always endeavored to show her affection for ponies by stirring her feelings for them into every bite. She endeavored to coalesce the feelings of their relationships into the things that she made for different ponies.

The changeling had confirmed that she was successful beyond her wildest dreams.

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

Chapter 9: Name

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 9: Name

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." -
'Poneo and Hinnyette' : Act II Scene II by Avon Playwright

Shortly after Warm Welcome's epiphany about her cooking, she also succumbed to exhaustion. She had barely finished explaining her conclusions to the changeling when she fell asleep on the couch in mid-sentence while telling the changeling she was going to get in bed. The changeling covered her with a blanket like she had for Bramley, and went back to his chair.

He had sat there for unknown stretch of time afterwards. He sat in quiet contemplation, and stared at the slowly dying flames in the hearth.
In his exhausted state it took some time before the cognitive pieces all fell into place, but fall in place they did. When the last one fell in place, and he mentally stepped back to look at the picture that they
created, he smiled.

He was alive.
He had shelter.
He had food.

He was safe.

With that thought in his mind, the changeling went back upstairs and got into bed. With hope as his pillow, he fell asleep almost immediately.

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

The changeling awoke to a dawn unlike any he had ever experienced. To any student of meteorology, or astronomy, or any of the sciences, the day was quantitatively unexceptional.

To the changeling, however, the day was unique. The sun was brighter than it ever had been. Bright, and cheerful, and warm. The air was more fresh and clean than he had ever noticed.
His innermost being had accepted things the way they were now as the new normal. He understood down to his core that he was starting a new life. A life that was his.
A life in which he could do as he chose. He felt strong, capable, powerful.
His banishment was, in a way, the best thing that could have happened to him.

He wanted to laugh out loud, to roar his joy to the sky, but restrained himself out of respect for those that might still be sleeping.

When he got out of bed, and opened the door, he realized that he needn't have worried. He could hear the sounds of conversation from downstairs and smell the aroma of food.

He nearly skipped down the stairs, and indeed chose to open his wings and hover down the last three.

He followed the sounds of life into the kitchen where Bramley and Warm Welcome were having breakfast. Warm Welcome sat sipping something from a steaming mug. Her hair was up in its usual braid,
and only a slight reddening of her eyes bore witness to how tired she was.

Bramley, by comparison was almost a caricature of exhaustion. He mechanically shoveled food into a mouth situated just below two bleary, barely open eyes. Atop his head sat what
appeared to be a salmon colored bird nest.

Warm Welcome saw him first and welcomed him with a cheerful "Mornin' !"

There was the customary "FWOOSH" as the changeling altered his form.

"Good morning, " the changeling replied.

The exchange startled Bramley, who was on the verge of falling asleep in his breakfast.

"Huh?" He looked around, wide eyed for a moment, and spotted the changeling. A broad smile crossed his face "Hey! Mornin'!"

The changeling returned both the smile and the greeting.

"Well come on in," Warm Welcome told him, gesturing to a place setting that the changeling hadn't noticed until now. He nodded, and took his place at the table. Warm Welcome wasted no time in piling his plate with high with the assorted foods from the table. Each time her hoof moved to add another item, she'd tell him what it was called.

"Here's some grits, they're made outtta' corn. And a couple a' biscuits. Oh and ya' can't have biscuits without gravy. Then there's hash browns, they're taters'. And finally ", she said, cramming two pastries
onto the already overloaded plate, " some fresh apple fritters. "

The changeling thanked her and dug in. Bramley and Warm Welcome chatted amiably while he ate, and in no time he'd eaten the lot.
Full and contented, the changeling sat back in his chair and let out a sigh.

Bramley took the opportunity to engage the changeling in conversation.

"Y'know, Mama and me were talkin' this mornin', and we realized that we don't even know your name. In the craziness o' everything yesterday I guess we just never got around to askin'. I mean, y'all
do have names, don'tcha?"

"We do have names." The changeling replied. "I am P'tach. If any of my kind addressed me they would call me that."

Warm Welcome and Bramley looked at each other in mild confusion. Bramley asked the question on both their minds.

"But I though you said that meant 'outcast' or sumthin' in your language. How could that be your name?"

The changeling opened his mouth, and for a moment nearly spoke the name that had once been his, but stopped himself.

"I once had a name which the Mother gave to me, but she took it from me when she banished me. P'tach -Outcast- is both what I am, and who I am. "

Warm Welcome balked at the idea. "I don't know if I can walk around callin' ya' that all the time. I just don't know how I feel about constantly remindin' ya' of it."

The changeling smiled at the affection for him in that sentiment.

He looked to Bramley and then to Warm Welcome and spoke.

"I would like for you to call me P'tach. I have been thinking quite a bit about this. The Mother gave me life. She gave me a name. She gave me shelter and food. I was a part of the Hive.
I displeased the Mother, and she took those things from me. She gave me a new name : P'tach. In naming me that, and casting me out, the Mother intended for me to die. "

He drew himself up, and his eyes burned with pride.

"I did not die. I live. You found me, and helped me. Now my life is my own. What Mother intended for ill has turned to good. I am not ashamed of being P'tach. Had I not been banished, I would never have
met you. I would never have known that there are creatures who would care for me just as I am. I would never know what it is like to be free. Perhaps I will have another name someday, but for now
I am proud that I am P'tach."

Bramley and Warm Welcome were wiping their eyes.

"Well," Warm Welcome said, choking back tears, " I guess that settles that."

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

Chapter 10:Neighbors

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 10: Neighbors

"We are all Neighbors." -
Red Cardigan (A.K.A. Mr. Neighbor), Foal Entertainer and Educator.

The next few days slid by quietly and smoothly. Warm Welcome, Bramley, and the Changeling they had come to call P'tach settled in and got to know each other better.

Thanks to Warm Welcome's cooking, and Bramley's friendship, P'tach's recuperation sped by. Day by day he grew stronger and healthier, as did the relationship the three were beginning to share.

Bramley loved having a new friend.

Warm Welcome loved having somepony else to care for and dote on.

P'tach loved being in the company of ponies that cared about him.

As the end of their first idyllic week together drew to a close, Warm Welcome sat sipping her coffee in the quiet early morning and began to contemplate what had to come next.
The ferocity of the storm that blown through last weekend had been a blessing. In the span of a day it had dumped more rain on Hinnysee than most storms did in a week.
The roads had been all but impassable until today. She knew that soon the neighbors would "come a' callin' " to check on them.
The last thing that she wanted was one of the neighbors to have a chance meeting with P'tach and run into town to fetch Constable Even-hoof.
She wanted to be the one to introduce the changeling to everyone. She didn't want it to seem like they were hiding him, or keeping him a secret from the town. She knew he would be quiet and fearful around new ponies, and wanted to be there to speak for him so those qualities didn't make him seem sinister or secretive.

So, she decided to do what she did best : have folks over for brunch.

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

Warm Welcome giggled out loud at the expressions on Bramley and P'tach's faces. She had informed them that tomorrow she was planning on having a brunch and inviting the most important ponies in town. Furthermore, at that brunch they would introduce P'tach all around.

They sat frozen, spoons in hooves halfway to their open mouths. They were twins in identical poses of disbelief.

Bramley was the first to speak. "Uhhhhhh..." he started, setting his spoon back onto his plate. " Are ya' sure ?" He asked, his face screwed up in an expression of worry.

P'tach realized that his spoon was also still hovering above his plate and set it down. He looked from Bramley to Warm Welcome

Warm Welcome smiled with more reassurance than she actually felt. "Ah'm sure, Bram. The townsfolk are gonna' find out about him at some point. I want to make sure that it's done the right way."
She could see the apprehension in P'tach's eyes and her heart went out to him. She knew that it was going to be hard on him to be around so many new people. The memories of his mistreatment by the general pony population were still very fresh, and wounds still raw. If all went well, she thought, this could really help to restore his faith in ponykind.

"P'tach," she said, "I'm gonna ask ya' ta' trust me. I've known these folks for most o' my life. They're good ponies. Part o' the reason Bram n' me are the way we are is cause' o' livin' in a community like this one." She gestured at the air around her.

She smiled, her words reassuring herself as much as they did P'tach.

"Besides," she continued, her surety redoubled, "they're used to welcomin' all different types for CiderCon. Treatin' strangers like neighbors is one o' the things that we pride ourselves on."

She chuckled to herself. "You're just a little stranger than most is all."

P'tach had held her gaze throughout her speech. Even now that she had finished he held it. He trusted them both. They had saved his life, taken him in, nursed him to health.

He did not, however, trust the rest of the world.

He was scared, but there was such certitude in her gaze that he found himself unable to resist it. He trusted her, and she trusted these people.

He took a leap of faith, and nodded his agreement.

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

After breakfast, Warm Welcome had made a lists of everything that had to be done and acquired for brunch, and written out invitations to the nine ponies that would attend.

Her guest list was as follows:

Constable Even-hoof
Doc Gladstone
Tough Temper (the town Blacksmith whose name referred to the durability of his goods, and not his demeanor)
Fair Trade and Good Measure ( the husband and wife that owned the General Store)
Miss Slate (one of Bramley's teachers that was also a quite dependable gossip)
Twice Turned ( the seamstress)
and their two closest neighbors, Plowshare and Green Gardens

She had carefully chosen each pony on the list, picking those that were either influential, or that talked to a lot of other ponies and were, therefore a means of disseminating the news.

She asked Bramley to take the invitations to Plowshare, Green Gardens, and Miss Slate while she handed out invitations to the others and did the shopping.

They would meet back at the house in the afternoon and start getting the back yard decorated and set.

"What would you like me to do?" Asked P'tach in his piecemeal form.

"You just stay here and rest while we're gone. " Replied Warm Welcome, laying a hoof on his shoulder. " You got a big day ahead of ya' tomorrow so ya' need to rest while ya' can." She was concerned for his health, and knew he needed his rest, but that wasn't the whole story. The rest of the story was that she didn't want him out much for fear that somepony would see him before his introduction.

The changeling was crestfallen. Helping them after all they'd done meant a lot to him. Warm Welcome saw the change in his expression, and could figure what it meant.

"Tell ya' what ", she said, putting a hoof under his chin to lift his eyes to hers, "once me n' Bram get home I'll make us some supper, then you can help us set up the tables, and help me get the kitchen ready. Deal?"

The changeling grinned "Deal."

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

Bramley and P'tach were in bed. Bramley had fallen asleep first, tuckered out from running to deliver invitations then doing his part to set up and decorate. P'tach had lasted a little longer. He was so overjoyed to be helping that he had shrugged aside slumber for another hour or two to get the kitchen set the way Warm Welcome had needed it.

Warm Welcome was sitting in the living room, sipping steaming cider from a mug and talking quietly to her husband's picture.

"It's times like this when I miss you most. I'm as scared as can be about tomorrow. I mean, I know I'm doin' the right thing and all, "she chuckled, " but I'd sure love a second opinion.""I know that if they cn' just get over the initial shock, and see him as his own self, he cn' be a real valuable part of this community."
"Fr' instance, " she said, "while we were gettin' the backyard set up fr' brunch, I needed the long tables out of the shed. I was just tellin' him how they were too heavy to pick up by himself when FWOOSH ! He turns into a bear kinda' thing, puts one table over each shoulder, and totes em' across the yard all by himself while I just stand there with my jaw on the floor."

She smiled at the recollection.

The clock on the wall chimed softly. It was 1 am.

"Sugar n' Saltlicks, its later than I realized. I gotta get to bed if I'm gonna be worth a cuss tomorrow!"
She rose, kissed her hoof, and touched it to his picture.

Then she ascended the stairs to where sleep awaited her.

What would happen tomorrow, only time would tell.

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

Chapter 11: Brunch

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 11: Brunch

"I'd rather dig a ditch than go to brunch with ponies I don't know." -
Wallflower, Author

The dawn came earlier than any of them would have liked. They all, unbeknownst to the others, lay in bed and contemplated what the day meant for them.

For P'tach, today was the moment of truth. Today could end with him being accepted by the townspeople as one of them. Today could also end with him on the run again, or worse.

For Bramley, today was a job. He always helped out at his mom's functions, and this wouldn't be any different. He also knew that today he could lose the changeling that was quickly becoming his best friend. He tried to put thoughts like that out of his mind and focus on the practicalities of his mom hosting a brunch, but he had still planned how he could best help the changeling get away if the need arose.

For Warm Welcome, days like today were what she did best. Like Bramley, she had put some thought into what she could do to help the changeling if things went south, but knew, in her heart of hearts, that it wouldn't come to that. She excelled at hosting events that made people forget everything else in the world outside and live in the moment. Her warmth and hospitality were disarming,Her cooking was entrancing. To have a brunch so marvelous that ponies didn't see a changeling as a threat would be the fruition of everything her Cutie Mark empowered her to do.

She had it all planned out : As the guests arrived, she'd serve some hors d'oeuvres and small cider ( a weak hard cider ), circulate, and turn on the charm. Once all the guests arrived, they'd uncover the buffet tables, let them fix their plates, and see to getting them seated. Once everyone was full and content, she'd tell them the story about finding P'tach, and bring him out.

If it all went well, the townsfolk's natural neighborliness would be at its peak, and they'd view him as just another (albeit uncommon) neighbor.

If it didn't, well, she didn't want to dwell on that.

Warm Welcome rolled out of bed first, the "THUD" of her hooves hitting the floorboards carried to the other rooms, and Bramley and P'tach followed close behind.

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

Warm Welcome surveyed the back yard. Bramley had worked all morning to set up furniture and decorate while Warm Welcome cooked and prepared. She had been insistent that P'tach stayed upstairs and out of sight while it was daylight. She knew that the changeling's feelings were stung, but knew that it was safer if he kept out of sight until a proper introduction could be made.

Bramley trotted up to her, and asked "Well? Whatcha think? Did I do all right? I mean, I know that th' tables and chairs and such are where they need to be, but I wasn't sure about the decorations and all."

She beamed down at him. "Son, ya' did just fine. This here looks just about perfect. "She put her hoof around his shoulders, drew him close, and kissed the top of his head.

Bramley looked up into his mom's eyes, and said "I love you, mama. Not many folks woulda' done everything that you done for him." He inclined his head towards the upstairs window.

She chuckled. "Land sakes, son. Don't forget that it was you that found him, you that fought to keep him alive. You're a pretty amazin' kid." Bramley blushed, and smiled a lopsided grin.

She sighed. "I just hope that everypony else shows how amazin' they can be today."

"Well," she said, tousling his hair, "I reckon we'd best get upstairs so we can wash up and go over the plan again. The guests'll start a' comin' soon."

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

The changeling sat beneath his room's open window, and watched as the guests arrived. Bramley had rummaged through his toys earlier, and produced a thing that looked like a tube with a box on one end, and a triangle on the other. "Its called a periscope!" He had said and proceeded to show P'tach how he could use it to look out the window without being seen.

The first to arrive was Constable Even-hoof. He was a tall, gangly looking dark grey stallion with an indigo tail, round glasses and a bowler hat perched atop a matching indigo mane. Pinned to his vest was a shield shaped silver badge that marked him as an officer of the law. He seemed to smile easily. There was an air of confidence around him that never once meandered into arrogance. He was calm, self assured, and amiable.

Not long after came a quiet, middle aged mare with a butter colored coat and a predominantly light brown mane and tail with butterscotch streaks. She wore a beautiful, but simple gingham dress and matching bonnet. This was the seamstress, Twice Turned.

In harsh contrast to the seamstress, came the blacksmith, Tough Temper. He was a barrel chested, brick red stallion. His mane and tail were a mix of oranges, reds, greys, and black. The overall effect conjured images of a bed of coals. In spite of his imposing appearance, his eyes flashed with humor. He was a wall of good humor, and brotherhood. His personality was so jovial, so ebullient, that he seemed to take up twice as much room as he actually did.

Next to appear were the merchant husband and wife duo of Fair Trade and Good Measure. Fair Trade was a mint green stallion with an ice blue mane and tail. His wife, Good Measure, was an orange mare with a brown and white streaked tail. Both wore simple, well made outfits. They were clothes that spoke of the fact that they had money, but also would work as hard as they did.

Then came the schoolteacher Miss Slate who, true to her name, was a slight, slate grey mare with a mane and tail white with age. She wore horn-rimmed glasses with a chain connecting the two earpieces so she was less likely to misplace them.

Plowshare ambled in next. He was a medium brown stallion with a faded black tail. His frame, though diminished with age, was strong and sturdy. Lean and spare, it was a body forged by a life of hard work in the fields. He wore a "farmer's tuxedo": a new plaid shirt with new denim overalls.

Close behind came their other neighbor, Green Gardens. She was a light brown, elderly mare with a mane and tail that had gone steel grey with age.

Finally, rushing in with profuse apologies and the explanation that there had been an emergency to which he had to attend, came Doc Gladstone. The Doc was an odd looking stallion with a green coat the color of pickles, and a mane and tail the color of coffee. Wiry and lithe, Doc had been the doctor in these parts for as long as anyone could remember. In spite of that, Doc Gladstone still had the youthfully exuberant air of a colt Bramley's age. He delighted in simple things, and didn't much care what other ponies thought of him. He was odd, but, eccentricities notwithstanding, was as competent a physician as you could hope to have.

Warm Welcome let folks "talk a spell", catch up with each other, and have a few hors d'oeuvres while she and Bramley took the covers off the serving tables.

Everything was going perfectly so far. Folks were enjoying the food, reveling in the perfection of the weather, and delighting in one another's company.

When everything was ready, Warm Welcome raised her voice enough to be heard over the general din of the conversations and said "I sure would like to thank y'all for coming out today. I don't get to visit with y'all near as much as I'd like to." She glanced around to make sure everyone had a beverage before she continued.

She lifted her mug. "To Neighbors!" She said.

"To Neighbors!" came the reply.

Then she reached up, pulled the rope to clang the "dinner bell", and announced (to a chorus of whoops and hollers) "Let's Eat!"

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

Chapter 12:Destiny

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 12: Destiny

"The only pony you are destined to become, is the pony that you decide to be." -
Concord Hymn, Poet

The Guests dug into the spread with a mix of fervor and reserve. Their respect for one another, and their host caused them to each take respectful portions.

Truth be told, they were all fighting the urge to empty the contents of every serving dish onto their plate and make off with their treasure.

It wasn't that they were gluttons, far from it, rather it was a testament to Warm Welcome's spread. Her food, under the most mundane of circumstances, was a delight for the palate and the eye.

And on this day, with this spread, with everything at stake, she had outdone herself.

The dishes were carefully arranged to draw the eye down the table, leading the guest on a journey from Salad to Dessert. With each step the guest took, smaller dishes tucked in between larger dishes revealed themselves : hidden delights to reawaken the sense of wonder at the spread laid out before them. Many less experienced ponies would have ruined the overall effect of such a melange by carelessly placing dishes together whose combined scents were distasteful, but not Warm Welcome. She had placed and displayed each in such a way that their scents intermingled in the most appetizing way. No detail was too small for her. She had even taken into consideration the angle at which the sunlight would strike the tables at the appointed time for the brunch as a determining factor in their arrangement.

It was a supreme display of her art. Each dish cooked and seasoned to perfection, then displayed on the tables in such a way that it was a festival for the senses, a grand glorious pageant, a legendary showcase of what a mare whose special talents were "Hospitality" and "Entertaining" was capable.

The guests served themselves, took their seats, and dug in.

As beautiful as the spread was to behold, and as bewitching as is was to smell, they paled in comparison to how it all tasted.

In this most important aspect Warm Welcome had thrown all of her art and skill. P'tach's revelation that the emotion she put into her food could literally be tasted was at the forefront of her mind as she prepared the meal. She had filled her mind with the fondest memories she shared with each of the guests as she labored away. She had laughed over it, cried over it, and sung to it.

It was a meal like no other that she had prepared before.

For quite some time after everypony had begun to eat, the table was silent save for the sounds of enjoyment coming from the guests. So entranced were they by her food that nopony spoke to anypony else.

Then the silence was broken by a high, breathy laugh from the end of the table. Doc Gladstone was laughing so hard that there were tears in his eyes. The spell broken, the guests look around as if just remembering that they were not alone.

Doc caught his breath, and said " 'Scuse me y'all! " He turned his head to address Warm Welcome. "Sugah, fuh some reason I got ta' thinkin' bout' that time when ah' " He chuckled out loud."When ah' come over here for a house call, an', " He laughed out loud, and choked the last part out between laughs. "an' I... ended up... bein' tha'... tha' one needin'...a doctah!"

The whole table roared with laughter. They all knew the story of the infamous house call. When Warm Welcome was having Bramley, the Doc, forever in a hurry, didn't open the front door of her house fast enough and ran muzzle first into it : knocking himself out cold. Warm Welcome and Green Gardens (who was over to keep her company until Doc Gladstone arrived) had to drag him inside. Warm Welcome, in the middle of her labor, had bandaged him up and ministered to him (since she knew more about such things than Green Gardens). Once the Doc was resting comfortably, she delivered Bramley with Green Gardens' help. The Doc came to hours later to find Warm Welcome sitting in her living room with a bundle in her lap.

The laughter hadn't fully subsided when Tough Temper chimed in with an anecdote, then Fair Trade and Good Measure, and so on, and so on...

They delighted in one another, facilitated by Warm Welcome's cooking, and the time flew by.

Things were going better than Warm Welcome ever imagined.

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

P'tach watched the gathering through Bramley's periscope toy from the upstairs window with a mix of sadness and joy. Sadness that he couldn't join in, but joy at the possibility that he might one day.

They had been going for quite some time, and P'tach knew that soon she would send Bramley up to get him.

As he watched, the wind picked up and blew the Constable's hat off his head. The table broke out in peals of laughter. He saw Bramley say what he assumed was
" I'll get it.", and gallop off across
the yard. The hat was near the woods at the edge of the yard before it snagged on a fallen branch. He saw Bramley reach down and get the hat. The wind picked up.

That was when he saw it.

A long dead tree at the edge of the woods was falling. Bramley was right in its path, frozen in shock.

He knew that the partygoers didn't see it. They were still laughing amongst themselves about the hat, and besides, none of them were close enough to do anything.

Though he felt a sick stab of dread, and knew that he was probably throwing away his new life, he didn't hesitate. He threw open the sash, and leapt out the window.

His wings beat faster and harder than they ever had before as he rocketed toward the colt. The wind thundered in his ears and stung his eyes. He was little more than a buzzing blur as he flew over the oblivious guests. He heard cries of alarm, and wasn't sure if they were because of him, or if they'd finally seen Bramley.
He was rapidly clearing the distance when a horrible realization struck him.

He wasn't going to make it.

He had hoped to clear the distance with enough time to slow down and push Bramley out of harm's way, but he could see that wasn't going to happen. If he hit Bramley at this speed he'd run the risk of seriously injuring the colt and himself, or maybe worse. If he slowed down, he might save Bramley, but the tree would probably crush him. He kept that idea as a last resort. He had thought about changing into something like a bear and covering Bramley's body with his own, but a bear would never clear the distance on foot.

And then, with complete clarity, knew what he had to do.

"You can't! It won't work!" said a voice inside.

There was a rumbling deep inside his psyche, and something freed itself. To his surprise, another voice that he'd never heard before, said :

"Yes. You can. You have to".

The voices struggled against within him.

"But, I'm damaged, defective, useless!"

"No! Not defective! Unique! No other changeling could save him like you're about to! You possess a power that none of them do!"

He realized that the voice was right.

The Mother called him defective. She was wrong

The Mother said nopony would care about him. She was wrong

The Mother thought he would die. Instead, she had made him free to make his own choices

Tears that had nothing to do with the wind came to his eyes.

He was unique.

He was Free.

He was loved.

He closed his eyes, and changed.

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

The assembled guests were still laughing raucously amongst themselves about the Constable's hat when they heard the buzzing. Before any of them could react, a buzzing blur passed over the table with enough speed to dishevel their hair, and knock over glasses and mugs. Green Gardens screamed in shock. Tough Temper and Constable Even-hoof rose from their seats to confront the threat, if it turned out to be one.

Warm Welcome froze. "That can't be P'tach." she thought to herself. "Why would he..." She traced his trajectory forward with her eyes.

She saw Bramley.
She saw the tree.
She screamed, and galloped towards him.

By this point, the Constable and the Smith had seen Bramley's peril too, and were racing as fast as their hooves would carry them to his side. The Doc and the others were close behind.

They saw the blur pick up speed. There was a "FWOOSH" of colored fire and its mass quadrupled. The buzz increased to a roar that threatened to deafen them, and the blur shot forward.

They were all still running toward Bramley, trying in vain to reach the colt in time.

They watched as the blur hit the tree at full speed, and the section that would have hit Bramley exploded into a cloud of splinters and dust.

Aside from Warm Welcome, the townsponies had all stopped running towards Bramley. They stood in open-mouthed awe at what had just happened.

It arrested its momentum with amazing speed, and turned around to land next to Bramley. For a moment the creature stood over him, towering above him as it seemed to the crowd to shield him from any errant debris.

Then they were finally able to get a good look at it. It defied classification. Its body and legs were those of a bear larger than any they'd ever seen before. On its back were two wings that looked like those of a beetle, but enormous and proportioned to match the rest of the body. Perched atop its shoulders was a head that was almost comically small by comparison, but alien in appearance. It was P'tach's own coal-black, pupil-less, horned head.

Warm Welcome ran past him to check on Bramley, then, seeing that he was fine, she turned to the creature and hugged it's massive leg, crying.

Constable Even-hoof's voice interrupted the reunion.

"What in the Sam Hinny is that thing !?"

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

Chapter 13:Consequences

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 13:Consequences

"If you build up the guts to do something, then you better save enough to face the consequences." -
Autumn Light (Toshiro Mipony), "Seven Stallions"

It seemed to Warm Welcome, Bramley and P'tach that time had stopped around them. They were in a bubble that included only the three of them.

Warm Welcome's eyes raked over Bramley, her hooves turning him this way and that looking for any sign of injury. Bramley, in his bewildered and stupefied state, offered no objections. He just looked around, mouth agape, as his mother inspected him. When Warm Welcome had explored every place where an external injury might hide, the realization dawned on her that he was fine.

He was alive, safe, and perfectly healthy.

Her tunnel vision for Bramley's safety dissipated, she surveyed the scene around them. On the ground less that a body length away was the remaining part of the tree. The section she could see was roughly as big around as her torso, and ended abruptly in a jagged rent where the changeling had struck it. Looking behind her, she found another large section of tree littering the yard. To her left was a field of splinters: all that remained of the huge section of tree P'tach had obliterated.

It all sunk in. Bramley was safe. Her plan was ruined. P'tach had risked everything to save Bramley. She looked up at the changeling. His massive form still towered above them, intent on protecting them from a threat that was already that was already gone. She felt a wave of love and gratitude towards him wash over her and she began to cry. Speechless with emotion, she lurched toward him to convey her indebtedness in the only way that she could. She wrapped her forelegs around one of his massive legs and hugged it with all of her might,
burying her face in the fur and sobbing

P'tach looked down at Warm Welcome as her embrace shook him from his own thoughts. He realized dimly that the threat had passed.

He had saved Bramley.

A feeling if euphoria welled up inside him. Not only had he been able to save the colt, but, for the first time in his life, he was completely unashamed of who he was.
He realized now, that his inability to completely replicate another form wasn't a defect or a failing, it was due to an ability that they'd never seen before. He was, as far as he knew, unique among changelings. Where other changelings could replicate a single other being, had the ability to pick and choose different parts from different creatures.
Heads, arms, legs, tails, his mind spun with the possibilities! All it had taken was the right inspiration, and a leap of faith in himself.

The Mother had never instilled either in him.

He understood everything that Warm Welcome had said about her. She had given him life, but, having seen the way Warm Welcome encouraged and nurtured Bramley, he understood now that it took more than a biological act to deserve the title. She had only ever held him back from discovering that of which he was truly capable.

His heart rejected the Mother's scorn, her derision, her disgust.

He vowed never to think of her, or refer to her, as "Mother" again.

A shout from behind him caught him by surprise, and reminded him of the fact that they weren't alone.

"What in the Sam Hinny is that thing !?"

He felt Warm Welcome stiffen, and knew that she'd been shocked by the realization as well. He felt her shiver, and reached down with paws the size of dinner plates to gently detach her from his leg.

He wasn't running anymore. He wasn't going to let someone else fight his battles either.

The changeling turned to address the gathered townsponies. There was a "FWOOSH" of colored fire as he changed back into himself.

He remembered too late that he couldn't speak anything but his native language that way. He prepared to change into the piecemeal form to which he was becoming accustomed, when that new voice inside spoke again.

"Just change what's inside your throat."

Empowered by the new found trust in his abilities, he did just that.

"I am a changeling." He said to the assortment of faces before him.

Seeing that he had their attention, he launched into an impassioned speech about what he was, where he was from, and all that he had been through. He sought to quell the townsponies fears, to explain the nature of his kind, and insure them that he meant no harm. Bramley and Warm Welcome watched with a mix of amazement and pride. Even with these possibly hostile strangers, he was calm, self-assured, and unashamed. They watched the faces of their neighbors change as P'tach spoke. Fear and anger became interest, and then empathy as the changeling described his hardships. Most smiled as he spoke fondly about his meeting with Bramley, and the wonders of Warm Welcome's cooking. There were nods of understanding as he described his own fear at Warm Welcome's entrance. He led them on a journey that started with his banishment and ended where he stood now.

He looked around to smile at Bramley and Warm Welcome before turning back and addressing the crowd.

" I will leave it to you to decide whether I am allowed to stay. I hope that you will allow me to stay and become a part of your community.
As I was watching you all enjoy one another I was envious of the bond that you share. I have only recently come to know what it feels like to be valued for who I am, and am eager to share that with others ,but I will abide by your decision no matter what it may be. Warm Welcome trusts you, and I trust Warm Welcome."

As the townsfolk broke out into whispered conversation behind him, the Constable's eyes remained on P'tach. Throughout the speech, he alone had remained unmoved. He had stood, stolidly keeping the changeling fixed with an inscrutable, appraising stare.

The conversation stopped when Constable Even-hoof stepped forward. All eyes were on him.

"Son," he began, "I just saw you risk everything to save a colt you've known for less than a week. That, and the fact that Warm Welcome trusts you, tells me about all I need to know."

The Constable extended a hoof. "Welcome to town."

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

Chapter 14: The Magic of Friendship

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 14: The Magic of Friendship

"When you first sent me to Ponyville, I didn't know anything about friendship. I met somepony tonight who was having the same problem -- your sister, Princess Luna! She taught me that one of the best things you can do with friendship is to give it to others, and help them find it themselves! And I'm happy to report that all of Ponyville has learned that even if somepony seems a little intimidating, even scary, when you offer them your friendship, you'll discover a whole new pony underneath." -
"Harmony: The Adventures of the Elements in their Own Words" - Collected by Spike the Dragon

Constable Even-hoof had watched the events unfold around him with the calm detachment that had served him so well throughout his career. He had gotten up from the table and run to help Bramley just like the other townsponies. Unlike them, though, he wasn't rushing blindly into danger. His senses were working in concert to put together the "Big Picture". Everything he heard, saw, and even smelled, brought the picture into sharper focus. It was a technique he'd used time and time again to help him sort out the chaotic situations into which agents of the law often found themselves thrust. Even through the dizzying sequence of events that led to where they were now, he was constantly taking in information and further clarifying his picture.

So now, he hardly needed to hear the changeling's words to know the truth: This changeling was no threat to any of them.

He had seen, with his own eyes, the changeling risk injury to save Bramley. He'd noted the fact that, as obviously powerful as the changeling's form was, had he meant to harm any of the guests, there wouldn't have been anypony there that could've stopped him. He had seen Warm Welcome's reaction to it all. He'd heard the almost imperceptible quaver in the changeling's voice that meant that the changeling was afraid of them.

So, when P'tach had finished, the Constable didn't need time to deliberate like the rest of the townponies did.

He stepped decisively forward. He chose his words so as to let the townsponies see some of the "Big Picture" that he saw.

"Son," he began, "I just saw you risk everything to save a colt you've known for less than a week. That, and the fact that Warm Welcome trusts you, tells me about all I need to know."

The Constable extended a hoof. "Welcome to town."

Moments later, Doc Gladstone came up to exclaim "Whoooo-eeee! I ain't nevah' seen nothin' like that!" Doc mimicked his flight across the yard, and his impact with the tree. "Bzzzzzzz BOOM!"
Doc laughed and, with another "Whoooooo-eee!" for good measure, shook the changelings hoof with enough fervor that it nearly dislocated his shoulder.

Then they were all upon him, a back slapping, hoof shaking, hugging, congratulatory mob.

P'tach reveled in it.

He had expected for the townponies to need time to deliberate, so it had been a shock how quickly the Constable had accepted him. For all of the group to react this way was more than he had ever allowed himself to hope for.

Bramley and Warm Welcome kept their distance for a few minutes, enjoying watching the changeling greet, and be greeted by, his new neighbors.

When the initial clamor had died down a bit, Warm Welcome spoke up. "Well, " she said, gesturing to the changeling, "I guess y'all figured out why I invited y'all here today."

She shrugged. "Surprise!" she said with laughter in her eyes and a grin on her face.

Everypony burst out with laughter, the joy of the moment was infectious.

Doc Gladstone's voice cut through as the laughter was dying out. "Y'all can stay ovah' here n' enjoy yuh'selves, but ah' am a'goin' back to the food!" He nudged the P'tach. "Whatcha' say, son? c'mon n' have some suppah'!"
Doc Gladsone threw his hoof over the changeling's shoulder and led him to the table as the other townsponies,
whooping and laughing all the while, followed.

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

For everyone involved, it had been the best event that Warm Welcome had ever hosted.

The guests had laughed, told stories, seen something incredible, met a new neighbor, and took home enough food for at least another two meals.

P'tach, for his part, had been amazing. First, by the fact of how spectacularly he had saved Bramley, then by his social interactions. Any trace of the fear and shame that seemed so much a part of him was gone. He sat at the table, talked, laughed, and genuinely charmed the other guests with his personality. It seemed almost impossible that this was the same changeling that had fainted at her approach not so long ago.

Bramley was just simply over the moon. To start, keeping the secret had been agony for the little pony. He had been so excited about P'tach that he wanted everyone to know, and now the time for keeping secrets was over. Most importantly, though, he knew his friend was safe, and wasn't going to have to leave.

A yawn escaping her mouth reminded Warm Welcome of how bone weary she was. She had noticed some time ago how quiet it had gotten upstairs, and assumed that Bramley and P'tach(or just "the colts" as she found herself referring to them) had finally played themselves to sleep. Determined not to break her cardinal rule and leave dishes overnight, she attacked the last few with fervor, and finished the lot.

On her way to bed she quietly opened the door to Bramley's room a crack to check on the colts. Sure enough they were both asleep on the floor, sprawled out in seemingly uncomfortable positions, surrounded by toys and comics. She quietly opened the closet door and retrieved the spare blankets. Quietly, she unfolded one and placed it over Bramley. The colt was sleeping so heavily that he didn't stir. She unfolded the next and placed it over P'tach.

To her surprise, he opened his eyes a little, seemed to register her, mumbled something that caused a sob to well up in her throat, and slumped back to sleep.

Warm Welcome fought back tears going to her room as she replayed the words over and over. She laid in her bed for several minutes and sobbed into a pillow as she thought about the words.

Three simple words. Words of affirmation. Words of thanks. Words of love.

The simple phrase:

"Thank you, Mother."

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

Chapter 15: Larger World

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 15 : Larger World

"...you've taken your first steps into a larger world..."
Obi Wan Keneighbi (Sir Alec Guinneighs), Starpony Wars

The next few days could be described as a blur, but that would make them seem hectic. Nevertheless, one leisurely, carefree day melded seamlessly into the next. P'tach, Warm Welcome, and Bramley spent their days in quiet, unhurried leisure. They ate. They slept. Bramley and P'tach played, and explored.

To top it all off they knew they didn't have to hide anymore. It was a relief for all of them, but for P'tach most of all. For P'tach to know that he had made an ally of not only the Constable, but all the ponies at Warm Welcome's brunch was an incredible weight lifted from his shoulders. To know that he was staying here with the full support of the pony who enforced the law was beyond amazing to him.

At the end of the week, Warm Welcome approached him at breakfast with a proposition:

"How'dja like to go into town with me n' Bram?"

To any other pony it wouldn't have even been an issue, but to P'tach it drove home the truth that he wasn't "just another pony". He wasn't afraid per se, because he knew that if push came to shove the Constable would protect him. He was just worried about making trouble in town and disrupting the peace. They had purposely waited a week to go into town so as to give plenty of time for the stories to circulate. That way nopony in town would be taken completely by surprise when a changeling showed up trotting down Main Street.

"Well, " he thought, "gotta do it sometime." He looked into Warm Welcome's eyes, smiled, and said: "I'd love to!"

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

As P'tach stepped out the front door, it seemed for a moment like the world around him instantly grew larger. Something in his understanding clunked into place, and the realization that this was the first step in an entirely new existence washed over him. Whether it was life in the hive, the covert nature of a changeling's life, or his time on the run, until now his life had revolved around hiding and skulking. From this day forward, he was free to step out of the shadows and walk in the sun.

As if in affirmation, he stepped out of the shadow of porch into the cool grass, and the morning sun shone brightly in his eyes.

Perhaps it was something energizing about the combination of cool grass and warm sun, or perhaps it was a manifestation of the renewal he felt within, but something overcame him, and before he knew it, he was trotting. He drank in the world around him. He felt a smile split his muzzle, and he broke into a gallop. The freedom that he felt within poured into his legs and carried him across the yard and into the open con grounds beyond. The smile became a laugh, and he launched himself skyward. He buzzed through the morning air , laughing all the while, in a looping aerobatic display of the freedom he felt within. He spun and wheeled in the crisp morning air, basking in the sun, reveling in the ability to just simply be.

To be himself and not have to hide: it was such a simple pleasure that nearly everypony took for granted, but to him it was something to be treasured.

He heard something below, and looked down. It was Bramley. The little colt was galloping, bucking, and whooping, sharing in his friend's obvious jubilation and adding some of his own. Warm Welcome, for her part, was following at a canter, watching their celebration with a smile the brightness and warmth of which rivaled the sun.

The changeling landed near Warm Welcome, and smiled up at her. Bramley galloped over and skidded to a halt next to them.
P'tach looked from Bramley to Warm Welcome, and simply said "Thank you. For everything."

"Sugar, we're jus' glad its all turned out." Warm Welcome replied. " 'Sides, after savin' Bram n' all, we owe you a thanks
o' our own. I'd say we're 'bout even."

Warm Welome reached out with her forehooves, and drew the two colts into a hug, and held them there for a moment.

Soon, Bramley's muffled voice came from under Warm Welcome's hoof. "Muhmuh! Yuh smoofin'me!" She realized how tightly
she had been embracing the colts, and let go.

"Well, we'd better get a' goin'", she said, straightening her shawl to hide her embarrassment, "I'm sure there's gonna be lots o' people that wanna' meet you."

At that, the trio set off down the path toward town, chatting amiably as they went.

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

The walk into town took far longer than it ever had when it was just Bramley and Warm Welcome.
Another facet of P'tach's newfound freedom was the desire to explore and learn all the things he'd never had a chance to
before. Every hundred hooves or so, something new would catch P'tach's eye, and the changeling would dart off to inspect
it and ask Warm Welcome and Bramley questions about it. Trees, flowers, bugs, rocks, animals, nothing escaped his curiosity.
Bramley enjoyed it because it was a chance for him to share the things that he knew with somepony that was truly interested.
Warm Welcome watched the two of them, occasionally adding to or correcting what Bramley was saying, and thought about how
much this reminded her of Bramley when he was younger.

Although the trip took longer than normal, they did eventually get to town. Following P'tach's lead, they stopped on the outskirts for a moment.

The changeling's thoughts were racing. As excited as he was to learn about the flora and fauna on the way, they paled in comparison to a city.

He had, after all, been outside before. He had walked through forests, and seen trees and flowers, and
bugs. He had never been in a position to explore a city before, and, for a moment, was overwhelmed by the thought of
everything new to take in.

"You alright?" Warm Welcome asked.

"Yes ma'am", replied the changeling without taking his eyes from the weekend bustle of the town, "it's just so overwhelming."

Warm Welcome smiled. She had felt the same thing a few summers back when she had been gone to Manehattan to visit a friend.
She had stood at the train station much the same way that P'tach was now, and just let the enormity of it all sink in.

After a few seconds more, P'tach turned to his companions with a delighted gleam in his eye and simply said : "Alright."

The changeling walked on, his companions a few hooves behind, ready to see what this new life had in store for him.

Chapter 16 : The Center of Attention

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 16 : Center of Attention

"As much as some ponies may think that they want it, it's really difficult to be the center of attention."
-Limelight, Entertainer

P'tach walked straight down Main Street and into the thick of town. As busy as town was on a Saturday, it took a few minutes for his presence to filter through the clamor and into the collective perception of the townsponies. Likewise, it time for P'tach to realize how quiet the street was, and how motionless the townsponies had become. He looked around. Everywhere he looked was a strange face staring at him. Some wore expressions of shock, or amazement, or just plain interest.

Some, though, stared at him in fear. A scant few stared in disgust.

The realization of how completely outnumbered he was struck him like a hoof in the gut. He had taken some solace in knowing that the Constable was on is side, and had trusted that he could keep him safe if it came down to it. Now, though, the truth was utterly apparent. If it came down to it, nopony could protect him from so many others.

He continued walking, taking comfort in the sound of Bramley and Warm Welcome's hooffalls behind him. Off to the side of him he heard a disturbance, and saw a small blue shape running towards them. A colt ran up, and stopped right in front of him.
He was a small lightish blue colt with a red mop of a mane, and a listless red tail. Like everyone else he stared at P'tach.
His stare was one of wonder with just a hint of envy.

"B!" He exclaimed, his eyes flashing from Bramley to the changeling.

"Aw Wow! Is this him? The changelin', that is." Although he was standing right in front of P'tach, he addressed Bramley as though the changeling was incapable of speech.

Bramley, unaware of just how angry the changeling was becoming, trotted forward and diffused the situation.

"Yes, Plumb Line, this is th' changelin'. His name is P'tach, and he can speak fer himself ya' know."

Plumb Line's eyes, already wide, opened even wider at the realization that he could talk.

"Really!? What else can..." Plumb Line began before Bramley talked over him.

"P.L., he ain't some trained pig or something. He's just like you n' me. A little different on th' outside is all."

Bramley looked at P'tach and they smiled at each other. Plumb Line seemed to realize his rudeness, and looked at the changeling with contrition.

"Ah'm real sorry, Puh'Talk", he said, doing his level best to wrap his tongue around the unfamiliar name, "Ah just ain't never seen nary a thing like you before!" He looked at the ground, embarrassed. "Y'all 'reckon you cn' forgive me?"

The changeling looked Plumb Line in the eyes, and grinned from ear to ear.

The townsponies and Plumb Line gasped as the FWOOSH of colored fire enveloped the changeling. In its wake, it left a taller version of P'tach, long legged and slender. Atop his head was a glittering gold crown, and adorning his body was a dress fit for the noblest princess. There were titters of laughter here and there from the crowd, but most kept silent, unsure of the whole situation. P'tach looked down at Plumb Line with a mock-imperious expression, and said in his most commanding voice "We Forgive you!" while touching Plumb Line's head in a gesture of royal favor.

There was another FWOOSH, and another collective gasp, and the changeling was himself again. He looked at the dumbstruck Plumb Line with a friendly smile and said: "and I forgive you, too." Plumb Line fell on his hindquarters at the shock of it all. There was a laugh like the rumble of thunder from off to the changeling's right. He turned to see Tough Temper laughing and pounding his hoof on the ground so hard that the dust and pebbles in the road leapt with each strike. Plumb Line looked up, wiped the mop of mane out from in front of his eyes, and joined Tough Temper with a high, hearty laugh. Then the whole street erupted with mirth. Almost everywhere P'tach looked, there were ponies laughing. Warm Welcome felt a rush of pride in the changeling for how well he was handling what she knew must've been a difficult situation. He had bonded a whole street full of ponies together in laughter and friendship, and had given them all a good story to share with others.

Before the laughter had fully died down, P'tach Bramley and Warm Welcome were inundated by ponies coming up to shake hooves, talk, share a laugh, and welcome the changeling to town.

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

The rest of the trip was a whirlwind of new faces and experiences for the changeling. The whole time, a throng of ponies followed the three of them around to see what the he would do next. Everywhere he went,he spread joy.He talked to ponies, explained about changelings if they asked, and even (at the risk of bring seen as just a "trained pig") put on an impromptu shapeshifting show for some little foals and fillies. Soon, though, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, and it was time to leave. The coterie of changeling fan-ponies followed them to the edge of town where P'tach, fearing that they intended to follow them home, said: "I've had a lot of fun today. I wish we could stay longer, but I really need something to eat, and to get in bed." The group made a general sound of disappointment, but respected the changeling's wishes, said their goodbyes, and went their separate ways.

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

On the walk home, P'tach Bramley and Warm Welcome talked about the trip. They told and retold the stories of the day. Each teller had a different perspective, and so the stories seemed new each time.

The time passed quickly, and they arrived at the house just after sunset. The three of them went in, washed up, ate a quick meal, and adjourned to the living room to relax a bit before bed.

Sipping from a steaming mug, Warm Welcome addressed P'tach : "I jus' can't tell you how proud I am o' the way you handled yourself in town today. As new, n' strange, n' scary as you told us it was, you showed em' all your true colors, and really made a positive impression."

P'tach just stared at the ceiling as he had for the last few minutes.

"Yeah!" Bramley chimed in. "Th' thing with Plumb Line! Aw buddy, that was something else. Folk're gonna be laughing at that fer years!"

It was only then that Warm Welcome and Bramley heard the snoring.

P'tach, exhausted by his day, and lulled by a full belly and comfortable couch, was fast asleep.

Warm Welcome and Bramley smiled to each other at this final funny story of the day, made the changeling more comfortable, and went to their own beds.

Chapter 17 : Secrets

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 17 : Secrets

"...sometimes, it's not what ponies say, but what they don't say that causes trouble..." -
Grandmare Gentleheart - "Grandmare Gentleheart's Good Friend Guide"

After that first, wildly successful trip into town, things started to calm down. In Warm Welcome's house, and throughout
Hinnyssee, life slowed back down to the unhurried, idyllic pace to which everypony was accustomed.

Days slid calmly by into weeks, which strung lazily together into months.

Fall gave way to winter.

Winter was supplanted by Spring.

All the while, P'tach learned, and experienced, and shared his life with the Hinnyssee folks. In a beautiful symbiosis, the
little changeling felt the love and acceptance of the town and became more sure of himself. As a result, his personality
became more and more defined and he gave of himself to the town. He used his abilities to help those in need, talked to folks
to help quell their fears, shared tears and jokes and, in time, became just another neighbor. There were still those that
didn't care for him, but they were a exceedingly tiny collection of townsfolk of the type which, for whatever reason, are
resolved to not get along with anypony.

So, we pick up our tale on a cool, overcast day in the early spring.

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

When P'tach awoke, he could tell almost instantly that he was alone in the house. Over the last several months, he had become
quite familiar with the sounds that Warm Welcome and Bramley made in their daily comings and goings. The fact that the house
was so silent meant that they were both gone. He noticed, then, that it was nearly noon, and figured that helping Golden
Sheaves bring in his crop yesterday must have taken more out of him than he thought.

He rolled out of bed, and went downstairs.

On the kitchen table next to a covered plate of breakfast's leftovers was a note. He opened the it and read it while absently
nibbling at a waffle from the plate. Warm Welcome said that she and Bramley had gone to Morning Dew's house to help them with
some of their household chores, and would be back around dinnertime. She further stated that it would probably be better if
he just stayed home and rested rather than joining them. P'tach recognized the name Morning Dew and understood Warm Welcome's
reasoning. She was one of those ponies that seemed determined not to be friendly. In spite of her gentle sounding name,
Morning Dew was a grizzled, combative old mare with a smart mouth and a mean streak. Although her mind and temper were still
strong, her body was given to frailty. So, due to their proximity to her homestead, Warm Welcome and Bramley had, from time
to time, gone to help her with things around the house. (Because, as Warm Welcome once told him, "Just because she ain't nice
to us don't mean we can't be nice to her.")

While finishing his breakfast, P'tach tried to decide what to do with his day. He noticed the shopping list on the icebox,
and decided that he'd go into town and get the shopping done.

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

He arrived in town just before the sky let loose a drenching spring shower. All around him townsponies dashed from the wide
open street to the cover of the closest porch or awning. He ducked into the bakery with several other ponies. Inside, in
addition to the ponies seeking shelter from the storm were the baker, Plum Tart, and a unicorn whose face he recognized, but
whose name he couldn't recall. They cast furtive glances at the ponies that entered, and spoke to one another in a whisper.
While scanning the crowd, Plum Tart saw the changeling and froze. Her face lit up with alarm, and her hoof shot up to point
at him.

"Y... You!" she managed to blurt out, "What are you doing here? You can't be here! Go!"

He felt like he hadn't felt in months : small, alone, surrounded by hostile faces.
P'tach, utterly bewildered, blundered backwards and into a display of model cakes, knocking them over. As they clattered to
the floor, he turned and ran from the bakery out into the driving rain.

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

As he ran through the pouring rain toward the General Store, Hot tears ran down his cheeks, making for a strange sensation
alongside the cold rain. He struggled to make sense of the events in the bakery. He had never done anything to harm, or
insult Plum Tart, had he? This morning, he'd have definitively said "No", but now he wasn't so sure. And who was the other
pony? Try as he might, he couldn't put a name with the face. Did he have something to do with plum Tart's reaction? Did he
put her under some kind of spell?

Then a series of horrible thoughts crept their way into his mind : What if the queen knows I'm here? What if she sent another
changeling to turn the town against me?

Lost in these dreadful ponderings, he found that his feet had unconsciously taken him to Constable Even-hoof's office.

As he deliberated about whether he should go in (not to mention what exactly he'd tell the constable if he did) ,he stared at
the front of the office. In spite of the pelting rain, he could see two figures through the window. One of them was the

Constable. The other, he realized with a sick shock, was Bramley. As Bramley spoke, he put his hoof to his mouth in a gesture
for "quiet". The Constable nodded, then laughed and mimicked pouncing. Bramley nodded and laughed.

P'tach felt sick. Either Warm Welcome had lied about where Bramley was going today, or that wasn't the real Bramley.
She had wanted P'tach to stay home, and now he knew why. They were plotting to creep up on him and catch him unawares for
some unknown purpose. The dreadful thoughts ratcheted up a notch : What if the queen had sent more than one changeling? What
if everyone in town has been replaced? Where are they keeping the real townsponies? How do I rescue them?

He suddenly felt very exposed on the street, and ducked into the alley between buildings. Once in the shadows, he decided on
a course of action. He had to get out of town. He was too exposed and surrounded here. He would sneak out of town and make
his way back to Warm Welcome's house. There, he could store up some food and supplies to take with him, and figure out what
to do from there.

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

It was a life that he thought he'd left behind, but here he was slinking from alley to alley, crawling under porches, and
sprinting across open spaces to evade detection. He was silently thankful for the rain. The torrent was keeping most ponies
from coming outside, and would confound the vision of those that did.

It took him hours to stealthily traverse the distance from town back to the house. In the interim, the rain had stopped, and
left the world a muddy mess.

When he got there, it was nearly dusk. He was dismayed to find lights on and an unfamiliar covered wagon drawn by a single
unfamiliar pony out in front of the house. He thought about just flying off, but thought about the townsponies. If they had
been taken captive, he might be their only hope. He needed to keep his strength up, and that meant he needed food. The
kitchen was, thankfully, dark. He decided to sneak in, grab a potato sack from the closet, shove as many leftovers from the
icebox and pantry into it as he could, and fly off at top speed. Once he was safe, he could try to learn more about the
others and see about a rescue mission.

Thanks to the lengthening twilight shadows, he made it to the house easily, and crept inside.

He was collecting a sack from the closet, when a sound outside drew his attention. Through the window, he saw Bramley and
Warm Welcome coming up from the woods behind the house.

He froze.

His mind raced. He could try to fight his way out, but that just wasn't in his nature. He couldn't run. Warm Welcome and
Bramley were almost at the door, and the mystery pony was out front. In the end, he decided to play along with what was going
on, try to find out as much as he could, and wait for a good chance to fly off.

Warm Welcome and Bramley opened the door. P'tach realized too late that he was covered in mud and still holding an empty
potato sack. The two of them registered shock to see the changeling.

"W... Whut.." was all Bramley could manage as his eyes raced to and fro to take in the changeling's appearance.

"There you are!" Warm Welcome said, smiling broadly. "We've been a'lookin' everywhere for ya'."

"I don't know what you been up to, but put away that 'tater sack and get washed up! We're goin' ta' town!"

P'tach narrowed his eyes. "Why?" he growled, more gruffly than he meant to. He reminded himself that he was supposed to be
playing along.

Warm Welcome seemed taken aback by his question and his tone, but answered mildly. "The Constable invited us to his house to
have dinner - don't worry none, I fixed a plate for you - and to visit n' play games n'such after."

P'tach could hear a slight edge in her voice he hadn't heard before, and he knew, somehow, that she wasn't telling him the
truth.

He went to the bathroom and washed up, said "Alright, let's go." through a forced smile, and walked out the front door to get
into the wagon.

As he got in from the front, Warm Welcome climbed up behind him. There was a clattering noise from the back and Bramley
heaved himself over the back gate with a crooked grin.

Bramley and Warm Welcome, either by coincidence or design, had blocked the exits.

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

The ride into town was tense.

Bramley wore a goofy, abnormal smile, but the tension in his jaw gave away the fact that he was uncomfortable, and trying
hard not to talk.

Warm Welcome talked about all sorts of things. Mostly the goings on around town. It was obvious, though, from her slower-
than-normal pace, that she was choosing her words very carefully.

P'tach sat, and listened, and observed, but didn't participate. If Warm Welcome asked him a question, he replied as genially
as he could muster but with the shortest answer possible.

Soon enough, though, they passed the city limit marker, and under the arch proclaiming "WELCOME TO HINNYSSEE".

Warm Welcome stopped talking, and went to the front to say something to the mystery pony pulling them. She returned, and said
"OH Yeah! I jus' remembered! P'tach, I got somethin' I want you to try for me. We been workin on a new drink for the
young'uns, and I want you to try it and tell me whatcha' think. It'll only take a minute. Ya' mind?"

Even though her whole speech was laced with the same edge of untruth he'd heard in the kitchen, he agreed.

"Just play along for now." he thought.

The wagon came came to a stop without Warm Welcome signalling for him to do so. It was obviously prearranged, and Warm
Welcome hastily said "Oh yeah! This is the place! Stop here." in a poor attempt to cover.

The three of them got out of the wagon, and P'tach walked a pace behind the other two. He took in his surroundings. The
lamplit streets were deserted, and all the storefronts in view were dark. The building in front of which they were parked was
one to which he had never been. It was a large, windowless building at the end the street. The lack of illumination from
under the door meant that the interior was dark.

Just before they got to the door, Bramley stopped and said "Hold on a sec." then trotted back to the wagon. He called "Mama!
I lost a buttn' from ma' vest. C'n you come n' help me look for it?"

Warm Welcome hurriedly said "Sure thing, Bram." and started towards him. She turned to P'tach and said "Why don't you go
ahead on in. We'll just be a sec."

P'tach nodded, and turned to the door as he heard Warm Welcome's hoofbeats retreat.

Placing his hoof on the doornob, he braced himself for the attack he knew was coming, and opened the door.

Nothing happened.

The interior of the room was dark, but a shaft of light from the street partially illuminated the interior. His heart was
racing and his body flooded with adrenaline. His vision narrowed to a tunnel. He squinted, lost in concentration as he
struggled to make out the details within.

Then the world exploded into sound and light.

The shock was too much. He felt his knees get weak, and he knew that he was about to faint.

"Not now!" his mind shrieked in a vain attempt to force his body to comply.

The room was filled with ponies yelling at him, and several had begun rushing towards him.

It was then that he noticed the table packed with food, and the decorations.
He was at a loss to piece it all together. His mind was getting foggy as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Through the fog, he noticed the banner swagged across the back wall.

"THANK YOU, P'TACH!"

"They're... throwing a party for... me?" He asked out loud to himself.

It all sunk in.

"They're throwing a party for me." He affirmed.

Relief flooded his mind, and he passed out.

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

Chapter 18:Recipe

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 18 : Recipe

"...most times, a good recipe comes from hard work, and understanding how your ingredients interact with one another. There are rare occasions, though, when something magical happens. A new ingredient gets thrown into the mix -something you'd never consider mixing in- and it just works, and this recipe that you already thought was perfect turns out even better..." -
Good Eats, Chef/Author/TV Star/Foodie

Silence descended.

The shock of what had just happened rippled through the assembled ponies. From near the back Doc Gladstone's voice called out "Now, ever'pony jus' simmah' down. Don' nopony move him, ya' heah? And don'chall crowd him none, eithah' ". He was making his way through the crowd to where P'tach was lying on the floor. Bramley and Warm Welcome were so stunned that they hadn't moved, but were just staring at P'tach in a slackjawed expression of shock.

Doc Gladstone knelt down next to P'tach and started checking him over with the practiced hooves of his decades in medicine. After a few seconds, Doc looked to Bramley and Warm Welcome, and said "Po' little fellah'. He's out cold, be he'll a' be alright soon enough. Jus' fainted, looks like. Surprise musta' been too much fo' 'im".

Bramley and Warm Welcome breathed a sigh of relief, and the assembled ponies did the same. The last thing they wanted was for the guest of honor to die on them.

Warm Welcome spoke up, her maternal instinct kicking in, "Can we move 'im someplace more comfortable?"

Doc nodded. "Won't hurt nothin' none."

It was a indication of how the other townsponies felt about P'tach that, before Doc Gladstone had finished, the burly blacksmith Tough Temper, and another farmstrong pony stepped forward to move him. With a gentleness that was incongruous with their bulk, the two of them lifted P'tach and carried him to a bench. While they carried him, the ponies nearest to the bench removed sweaters, shawls, overcoats, and the like, and laid them on the bench to afford him a comfortable place to lay. The two ponies placed him atop the makeshift outerwear bed.

Now, all anypony could do was wait.

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

For P'tach, the transition was instantaneous and jarring. He remembered seeing the hard wooden floor approach with frightening speed just after realizing that the townsponies, were throwing him a party. Now, he was in another part of what he assumed was the same room, lying on something soft, while Warm Welcome held a cool cloth to his head.

"I'm sorry", he croaked in Warm Welcome's general direction.

"What? Why?" She queried, confused.

"I thought you were lying to me, and I ruined your party", was his response.

Warm Welcome sighed. "Well, the fact of the matter is, we did lie ta' ya'. We did it for what we thought was a good reason", she gestured around around at the party, "but we lied ta' ya' all the same. And anyways", she chuckled, "it's your party, you c'n do whatever ya' want!"

"It's me that should offer the apology", said a voice near Warm Welcome. P'tach craned his neck to see the speaker. A youngish mare got up from her place beside Bramley's mother, and walked over with her face downcast.

"I'm sorry for all o' what happened in the bakery."

Then P'tach recognized her : the baker, Plum Tart.

Her words came out in a rush, as if she was divesting herself of a great burden. "When ya' came in I didn't have a clue o' what to do! Dub Dub - that's what I call Warm Welcome - was in the back using my kitchen to cook all o' this", she gestured at the spread on the tables in the center of the hall "and then you came in! Well, tha' last thing I wanted was for you to smell her cookin' , or, worse yet, to catch a glimpse o' her in the back! I plum panicked! The only thing that I could think of ta' do was run ya' out of the bakery on the double!" She looked at P'tach, abashed. "Can ya' forgive me?" she asked.

P'tach smiled, and said, "Only if you'll forgive me for thinking that all of you were changeling infiltrators planning on offing me." He drew a hoof across his throat to illustrate.

Plum Tart cocked her head to the side, and screwed her face up in confusion.
"Uh... ok...?" she said, sounding more like a question than a statement.

"Great!" replied P'tach

He grinned and tried to get up. His head was still a little foggy, and his body was slow to respond, but he got his hooves under him, and wrapped her in a hug.

He released the dumbstruck baker, and turned to address the crowd

"I understand that this is supposed to be a party. Let's get to it!"

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of whoops and hollers.

With that, the party kicked into high gear. Eager to make up for lost time, and throw off the tension with which the festivities began, P'tach, Bramley, Warm Welcome, and the rest of the revellers threw themselves into having a good time. Ponies laughed, ate, drank, danced, played raucous games, and generally enjoyed themselves. To everyone's amusement, P'tach told the self deprecating tale of just why he had fainted at the door. Folks laughed along with him at his story of an imagined changeling invasion (and quite a few planned to dress up as changelings for the next Nightmare Night as a joke).

Once everypony had had a chance to enjoy the fun for a bit, Warm Welcome, Bramley, and Constable Even-hoof made their way to the back of the room where a trio of townsponies were on a small stage, playing music so others could dance. They waited for them to finish their song, then stepped up onto the stage. Flanked by Bramley and the Constable, Warm Welcvome cleared her throat, and spoke. It was a testament to her presence, and to her facility in speaking to large groups, that when she spoke, the room fell silent.

"Thank y'all for comin' out tonight to help celebrate our favorite changeling : our guest o' honor, P'tach!"

There was a chorus of whoops and hollers, and P'tach was ushered to the front to receive the spotlight.

Warm Welcome beamed at him, and continued.

"There's hardly a pony here whose life you ain't touched some way or another. You've always been kind, giving, and understanding. You've become like a son to me, and like a brother ta' Bram. To the townsponies, you've been as good a citizen, as good a neighbor, and as good a friend as anypony could ask for. We threw this party for ya' to tell ya' how glad we are that you came to our little town, and to give you something."

P'tach had been trying hard to hide his embarrassment as Warm Welcome praised him on behalf of the town. In his mind, he hadn't done anything special. These ponies had taken him in, accepted him, and given a place where he belonged. All he'd done is share his meager gifts with them.

When she reached the end. and mentioned giving him something else, he cocked his head at her quizzically, and scrunched his face up in query.

She smiled even wider at his questioning expression, and continued.

"We'd like to give you a new name."

P'tach looked shocked, this was unexpected!

Warm Welcome mistook his reaction for one of offense, and hastily continued.

"We understand why you chose to keep on callin' yourself P'tach, n' how you'd consider that a badge o' honor n' all, but we all know that your name means outcast. We want ya' to know that we don't consider ya' an outcast any kinda' way. You're one o' us, and we'd like ya' to think about a takin' a pony name. Now, I've asked 'round, and gotten suggestions from almost everypony in town, " she said, gesturing at the assembled ponies. " We came up with some good ones, but everypony agreed that Bram came up with the best."

She drew Bramley to her side, and hugged him.

" We were talkin' one night after you went ta' bed, we were goin' over some o' the names
that had been suggested, and Bram gets this look in his eye, and says : '...ya' know, it's kinda like your recipe for cornbread.' I don't what kinda look I gave him, but the smiled real big and explained. '...ya' know how ponies always talked about your cornbread - how good it was and all - but then that one time ya' accidentally put may'naise in it without realizin' what you'd done. Well, it made your prize winnin' cornbread even better. P'tach's like that.
He's the Secret Ingredient (She made sure to place extra emphasis on those words) "that we didn't know we was missin'. He made our family - heck the whole town - better.'"

P'tach mouthed the words "Secret Ingredient" over and over, trying them on like a suit of clothes as she concluded.

"Sure enough, that's what you've done. We didn't know anything could make our town better 'til you came along."

The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts of agreement.

P'tach got up on stage and addressed the assembled ponies.

"I just can't believe how much you all have done for me, and I love having the opportunity everyday to live here and repay your kindness. You're right, it's just not fitting to keep on calling myself outcast. Besides, Doc still calls me "taki" because he can't pronounce it."

He wiped away a tear, and with it, the last traces of his painful past.

"From now on, you can call me Secret Ingredient!"

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

Chapter 19 : Happier Endings

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 19 : Happier Endings

"A happy ending is all about where you stop your story." -
Clever Quill, Author

Secret Ingredient...

It took several weeks to get used to the new name, and its many permutations. Some folks would use the whole thing, others abbreviated by calling him Si (like sigh), or S.I. (Ess Eye), Doc Gladstone even took to calling him "May'naise". It was, to say the least, an amusing transition.

Once he had, he realized what a difference it made. Having a pony name made him feel like a part of their community, and a part of their world, in a way he never had before. The pain and shame that he had been unconsciously holding on to until the night of the party was gone, and he moved forward into a life of complete freedom.

He continued to learn more about his unique shapeshifting abilities. He practiced and stretched the boundaries of what he thought was possible. No matter how much he practiced though, he could never completely emulate another creature. There was always something of himself in his transformations, and that was completely fine with him. He was proud of his skills, and proud of the things for which he used them.

His relationship with Bramley and Warm Welcome continued to flourish. He and Bramley loved each other like brothers. Warm Welcome delighted in her role as his "Mother", and lavished him with the same attention, affection, and affirmation that she showed Bramley.

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

One day a few months later, he was out on an errand to Green Gardens' house, and was taking the shortcut through the woods. He came across a trio of blossoms that reminded him of Warm Welcome's Cutie Mark. He carefully picked them and placed them in his saddlebag. He continued on, and soon found himself on the lip of a gully. He carefully picked his way down to the bottom and was looking for an easy ascent on the opposite side before it struck him where he was.

This was the gully where it all began.

He hadn't been there since that day, but, even with all of the new spring growth, he recognized almost every detail.

"Of couse I recognize it," He said aloud to himself, "I thought I was going to die here."

He took the scene in, and remembered what happened that day. The life that he thought was coming to an end, was just beginning. It was fitting, he thought, that the first time he'd seen it was in the late fall. The gully then was as barren, and bleak, and seemingly bereft of life as he felt at the time.
He looked around the gully now, and he smiled from ear to ear.
The gully was alive, and vibrant, and growing.

His bleak winter was over, and his warm spring was just beginning.

He loved himself.

He loved, and was loved by, others.

He was home.

********************
THE END
********************

One Shot 01 - Worthwhile

CiderCon Chronicles One-Shot :
Worthwhile
"...nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy..."
- Base Camp - Mountaineer

Secret Ingredient smiled as he wound his way through the con grounds. Super Speedy Cider Con started in just a few days, and his excitement was was reaching its peak.All around him, townsponies worked dilligently to put the finishing touches on things. It had been nearly a year since he had come to make Hinnysee his home, but he had never seen the town in such a frenzy of activity.

This was the hubbub that marked the final week until con.

As he trotted along, he lost himself in the constant low level hum of activity around him. It was, in a way, like being part of a hive again. He felt a slight twinge of pain at the memory. He hadn't realized how much he missed that particular aspect of hive life.

He stopped for a minute and sat down to just drink it all in, and felt the pangs of hunger. He noticed how high the sun was in the sky and realized that he had been working since just before sunrise without a break. As if the thought conjured her, a breathless and flustered looking young filly approached him. "Si," she said between gulps of breath. "Warm Welcome is a lookin 'fer ya'. She said you had to be plum starvin' and to come n' fetch ya' home 'fer a bite o' supper."

He thanked her and started off for the house he shared with his adopted mother Warm Welcome and adopted brother, Bramley. He realized the filly was still sitting there and it occurred to him that she must've been running all over the con grounds trying to find him. She was obviously exhausted from the effort. He trotted back over to her and extended a hoof. "Hey, how about you come back to the house with me and have a bite yourself? Warm Welcome has been cooking for days, and there's a kitchen full of pies just begging to be eaten."

He saw the little filly start to shake her head and knew that it was because she wasn't ready to traipse back across
the con grounds yet.

Before she could answer, there was a FWOOSH of colored fire. The little changeling now sported arms like a bear, and wings like an eagle, but much larger. He smiled at her and said, "You want a ride?"

The filly's eyes got so wide that they nearly burst free of her eyesockets.

"Really?!"

"I mean, really!? F'r real?! You ain't funnin' me?!?"

"That'd be about the bestest thing ever!"

With that, he wrapped her in the burly ursine arms, beat his massive wings, and took off. Throughout the short flight to the house she whooped, screamed, and generally announced her elation to the ponies below, and the world at large. When they arrived at the house, he gently set her down, landed, and FWOOSHED back to his normal form.

Before the flash of colored fire was gone, she was running away at top speed toward a cluster of other ponies nearby, her exhaustion and the pies forgotten, yelling "Hey! Y'all ain't gonna believe what I just did!"
Secret Ingredient chuckled to himself, and trotted off towards the house. When he entered the kitchen, he was greeted with the sound of Warm Welcome humming quietly to herself, lost in the work at hand. It was a testament to how immersed she was in her work that she didn't even hear Si come in. He stood there for a few moments and watched her as she glided to and fro around the kitchen flitting from one task to another. She was in her element. For a moment, Secret Ingredient could have sworn that he saw her cutie mark glow and pulse in time to the tune she hummed.

The banging and clamor of someone bursting through the front door brought them both back to the here and now. Bramley burst into the kitchen.
"SORRY I'M LATE, MAMA!" He yelled.

His eyes went wide with shock at sound of his voice ringing through the kitchen. With an abashed expression, he lowered his head and said: "Sorry Mama, I been yellin' all morning to be heard over the noise."
Warm Welcome smiled at her son, and giggled. She knew how knew how hard Bramley and Secret Ingredient had been working this morning, and couldn't have been more proud of them.
"It's alright son," she said, "but you look like you're gonna grow 'taters on your hooves. Wash up and get yourself something to eat. You too, Si."

Once they had washed up, they returned to the kitchen and looked around for a place to sit and eat. Every flat surface had something on it. The counter was covered in casseroles, the table was filled with pies, even the chairs had been pressed into service.

Warm Welcome made them each a plate and directed them outside to have their lunch. The boys ate on the shady back steps, chatting animatedly about what they'd done this morning the whole time.

After they ate, they washed their dishes at the pump to save Warm Welcome from having to do it, took them back inside, thanked her, and took back off to their labors.

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

At the end of a long day of work, they settled in to the living room to have a very late supper and relax. Despite their exhaustion, the excitement for the upcoming con fueled their speech and they engaged in a boisterous recounting of the days events.

After dinner Warm Welcome ushered the colts upstairs to get ready for bed. Within a few minutes, she noticed how quiet the house got, and knew that they were sound asleep. Warm Welcome sat down with a steaming mug of tea and got out her checklist. One by one she ticked off items from the list. When she was done checking off the completed items, she surveyed the unchecked items and furrowed her brow.
Super Speedy Cider Con was in two days, and there was still so much to do.
She took a deep breath, accepting the facts that worrying wouldn't do any good, and that she couldn't do any more tonight.

She finished her tea, went upstarirs, and got in bed. She smiled, thinking about all the ponies that would be at the con, thought about their smiling faces, and how their fun made all the hard work worthwhile.
With that thought in mind, she fell asleep.
********************

CC: Prologue

Super Speedy Cider Con Presents…

CiderCon Chronicles
Prologue

South of Ponyville, near where the rail line forks to Dodge City and Appleloosa, lie four small towns known collectively as "Hinnyssee". A quiet, close-knit community of hardy EarthPonies, Unicorns, and Pegasi seeking something different than the hustle and bustle of the larger cities.

They are known for two things: The high quality cider they produce which is named after the area, and their annual festival to celebrate the beverage - Super Speedy Cider Con.

It's a place where ponyfolk enjoyed the simplicity of life, work, and friendship.

It's not the sort of place where strange things happen. Sure, there have been uncommon visitors from time to time to buy cider or attend CiderCon : Buffaloes, a Griffon every now and again, Zebras - twice, even a Princess once.

But not the sort of place for strange occurrences, evil plots, magical accidents, monster attacks, or world - threatening crises.

...well...

...it didnt used to be...

Chapter 20 : Epilogue

CiderCon Chronicles

Epilogue :

It's time to say farewell for now to Warm Welcome, Bramley, Secret Ingredient,and the other Hinnysee folks.

You've had a chance to get to know em', and I've a'told ya' about how that little changeling came to make Hinnysee his home.

Are there other tales to be told?

Of course there are, but those are tales for another time.

Come back 'n' visit anytime ya' like. The Hinnysee folks are always ready with a neighborly hoofshake, a warm hug, and Friendly smile.

...and If'n ya' can make it, they'd love to see ya' in October for the next Super Speedy Cider Con!