Cabin Fervor

Twilight reeled, her body going into instinctual overdrive. She only registered brief, intoxicating snippets. Soft, eager lips on hers. Warm, impossibly smooth skin beneath her hands. Sunlight's dextrous fingers beginning to unbutton her pajamas. In the abstract, she knew exactly what was (finally) happening, but in those dark, quiet moments, Twilight could do little more than lay back.

Sunset broke the kiss, and looked down at Twilight with fiery, hungry eyes. The look in her friend's (Girlfriend's? Lover's? Friend-with-benefits'?) gaze made Twilight's heart beat faster.

Sunset Shimmer made a surprised squeak as fingers closed in her hair and yanked her head back.

The knife plunged into her neck before she could make any more noise.

Twilight found herself frozen, though now out of a different kind of terror.

Sunset fell back onto the floor, clutching at her neck. Thick, warm arterial blood spattered across Twilight's face as the knife was yanked out of Sunset's neck and plunged in again. And again. And again.

Sunset made a final, terrible, choking wet sound, and fell to the floor with a heavy thump.

“Nononononono.” Twilight scrambled to the far corner of the bed, limbs tangling in the bedsheets. She searched around for help, for a weapon, for anything that could protect her. But, in the shadowed dark of the bedroom, all she could see was the dark silhouette of Sunset's killer. The lanky limbed figure loomed closer and closer. The knife was gone, left in Sunset's neck, but Twilight knew she was still helpless. She readied herself to scream, but a strong, sickeningly sticky hand clapped over her mouth.

“Quiet.” The killer said, and leaned in close to Twilight's face. “It's me.”

Twilight's flesh went cold as she recognized the shadowed figure's all-too-familiar features.

“Sunset?”

Her hair, her face, and her clothes (as she was somehow, impossibly dressed) were all spattered with the kind of dark, dripping fluids that Twilight didn't want to think too much about. But, sure enough, it was her. She met Twilight's panicked eyes, and then slowly lifted her hand from her mouth.

“But … but … that's impossible.” Twilight murmured, touching her lips.

“I know.” Sunset said, voice hushed. “But here. Look.” She climbed out of the bed, and nodded to the corpse on the floor. “I know it's hard but … trust me. Please.”

Trembling, Twilight looked out over the edge of the bed. There, at Sunset Shimmer's feet, was … Sunset Shimmer- though this time, with a long kitchen knife jutting obscenely from the side of her neck. Dark, coppery-smelling blood spread out against the hardwood floor in an obscene stain.

“What the--”

“Keep watching.” Sunset said.

The corpse on the floor wavered impossibly, like some sort of mirage. And then, with a sound like tearing paper, the illusion fell away. Delicate skin gave way to a hard carapace. The eyes that Twilight had stared rapturously into moments before were replaced by bulging, blank lenses. Twilight felt her stomach churn as she saw the very lips she'd kissed moments before transform into a set of wickedly curved mandibles. Even the blood was replaced, changing from a terrible red to a sickly green ichor, spread across the bedroom floor.

“I think I'm gonna be sick.” Twilight said.

“Here.” Sunset (the real Sunset-- or at least the one still standing, Twilight thought) handed Twilight a small metal trash can that had been left in the corner of the bedroom.

Twilight clutched the trashcan to her chest. The sudden feel of cold metal on her skin reminded her of the fact her pajama top was still half open. She awkwardly tried to make herself more decent with one hand, while balancing the trashcan with the other. “What's going on?”

“Changelings.” Sunset said. She braced one foot on the insectoid monster's shoulders, and leaned down to yank the knife out of its neck with a nausea inducing squelch. “More monsters from Equestria.”

“Great.” Twilight looked away from the insectoid creature on the floor. “Anything we should know?”

“They're shapeshifters. They change forms to get close to their prey, so they can feed … “ Sunset Shimmer tightened her fingers around the handle of her knife. “They feed on emotions. Straight out of your skull if they're hungry enough.”

Twilight fumbled her glasses onto her face. “You've fought them before?”

“Not personally, no. Twilight--” Sunset winced. “Princess Twilight did. The Changelings nearly conquered Canterlot. I don't know if these Changelings came through some kind of dimensional portal, or if they're a 'native' variety … all I know is we've got to stop them.”

“Them? There's more than one?”

“One tried to get me in the kitchen. Probably the same time this one went after you.” Sunset nudged the dead Changeling, but thankfully, it didn't stir.

“I, uh, I guess they can't shapeshift clothes, right?” Twilight scratched at the back of her neck. “Which, uh, is a completely rational reason why Changeling-you wasn't wearing any clothes and also I'm sure she was trying to suck out my brain through my sinus cavity which is totally why things looked like the way they did when you got here. And. Uh. Started stabbing.” Twilight chanced another look at the corpse. Her stomach twisted, but she didn't have to make use of the trash can just yet. “Thanks?”

“I know you're scared, Twilight. I am too. But I need you to keep it together. Changelings don't eat their own. That's how I know I can trust you. They don't kill their own, either. That's how you know you can trust me.”

“Because … you killed yourself.”

“I killed a Changeling that looked like me.” Sunset wiped a smear of gore off from her cheek. “Kind of therapeutic, actually.”

“What do we do now? If the Changelings are shapeshifters, they could look like anybody.”

“I know.”

“And … and there's just the two of us.”

“I know.”

“And we don't have any way of telling a changeling apart from a real person.”

“I know.”

“But … we've got to do something.” Twilight set her jaw, and clutched the trash can all the harder. “We're the only ones who can.”

Sunset Shimmer smiled. “I know.”