Nothling

I am crouched down. The belly of my small hatchling form nearly scrapes the rough chamber floor as I slowly inch my way forward. It gets harder to keep this position with each step, but my target’s more important than my own discomfort.

I’m soooo close, I think, tiny wings buzzing in anticipation. Soon, this little ‘game’ will be over. You will be mine!

Without warning, my target’s head turns slightly, its orb-like eyes freezing upon making contact with me. I stop dead in my tracks, not daring to even blink.

No, no, you don’t see me. You don’t see me!

Against my pleas, the springleg puffs out its warty, green skin, a large bulge forming under its chin.

My eyes widen. Yoooudoon’tseee meeeeee!

Finally, it lets out: Ribbit!

“Graaaah!” I launch my attack, towering over the springleg, but it’s too quick, hopping out of my reach as I land right where it was just sitting.

“No! Get back here!” I flutter my transparent wings, trying to catch up to the springleg. But they barely lift me off of the ground no matter how hard I buzz. I am just a hatchling after all; they haven’t fully developed yet.

Fortunately, I am much larger than a springleg, so closing the distance is a very manageable task. Using a combination of my hooves and wings, I push myself towards the springleg, gradually gaining on my target as it hops and croaks like its life depends on it.

Soon, it’s only a hoof’s length away; one more push to victory. I stretch my body out, reaching over to its warty back. Right as I touch it, though, the springleg abruptly changes direction.

“Whaa?!” My head swivels to the creature as it hops off to the side. “Oh, no, you don’t!” I cry, quickly angling my body in order to turn with it. However, before I can finish the maneuver, I run into something bigger than myself, coming to a rough stop and falling onto my rear.

“Ooof!” I let out, blinking at the floor.

A pair of hollow black legs greet me. My ears fall back, looking up higher and higher still until I reach the face of an adult changeling standing right in front of me.

The adult looks down with a smile. “Hello, little one,” she says gently. Her face is marked white around her eyes and down the top of her maw, ending at her nose. She leans her head to be level with my own. “And what might your number be?” she asks.

Fearing that I’m in trouble, I shuffle away, feeling an overwhelming need to hide under such close scrutiny. Still, I have to answer her, less I get into deeper trouble: “F-F-Fifty-five of Four, ma- ma’am,” I chitter, avoiding her purple eyes.

“Hmm, how interesting,” she muses. “I, am Ninety-nine of Two,” she states, holding a proud hoof up to her chest.

My ears perk up, pupils slowly returning to her own. “Y-you have d-double numbers? Just like me?”

She nods.

My fear turns into practically nothing at all, excitedly sitting up. “That- that’s amazing!” I squee.

“Indeed,” she says calmly. “I must say, you are fairly quick for your size. Have you learned to fly already?”

The fear returns a little. “O-oh, N-not yet,” I stammer embarrassingly. “I- I’m getting really close though.”

She leans in again. “What of your magic?”

I shake my head. “Forty-nine and One-zero are the only ones who can change, and even they can’t control it,” I elaborate. When she doesn’t say anything, I add, “B-but I can do this!”

I scrunch my eyes shut and furrow my brows. My ears pop like when one is yawning, as I focus intently on the tip of my horn. A torch-like sound emanates from above my forehead – when I open my eyes, a purple light illuminates the surrounding area, glowing brightly before quickly flickering out as I exhale.

Ninety-nine lowers her hoof, blinking.

“I- I can usually hold it for a lot longer,” I hastily explain. “I’m just a little tired.”

The corners of her mouth lift up ever so slightly. “Oh, no, you did very well,” she says, tilting her head to the side and looking at me intently, though still with a friendly expression. “Hmm… tell me, Fifty-five-” she moves a little closer to me and sits down. “What do you aspire for?”

“A-aspire?” I ask, confused by the word.

Ninety-nine holds a hoof to her mouth and laughs softly. “You know,” she says, lowering her hoof, “your ambitions; what you wish to achieve. What you aspire for.”

I look around the chamber, the other hatchlings wrestling and running around with each other. Some are even playing Queen of the Mound, while others sit around idly in groups, bored and tired.

Interestingly, I notice that a few hatchlings have grown-ups talking to them; grown-ups that don’t appear to be any of the nurses that I recognize.

Bestowers, I think to myself, my heart immediately beating faster as I realize what’s happening. Oh my gosh, I’m being considered!

I brighten fully, sitting up as tall as I can manage while puffing out my chest. “I want to serve the hive!” I tell her, trying to force enthusiasm. “I want to gather love so no changeling has to ever f-feel empty again!” I say proudly, though my voice squeaks a few times.

She smirks. “An infiltrator, then?”

I nod my head quickly. “Y-yes,” I say a bit quieter. “B-but if you think I should be something else, then th- that’s fine.”

Ninety-nine pauses. “Hmm… I saw you got rather close to that springleg before it noticed you. That was very good,” she says, making me grin. “What would you do if it were a pony instead?”

My smile falters and I look away in thought. “If it were a pony… I’d pretend to be really hurt,” I say. She cocks her head to the side. “B-b-because ponies feel bad for things that are hurt, and then when they let their g-guard down, I’d get away,” I add.

Her lips slowly curl upwards until she’s beaming. “How incredibly inventive,” she says with amazement. “Did you come up with that all on your own?”

I nod, “Nurse Thirty-one says that ponies are... em-pa-the-tic,” I sound the word out. “She says that we should always try and use it to our... ad- ad…”

“Advantage,” Ninety-nine finishes.

My ears fold back and I nod, embarrassed.

“Interesting,” Ninety-nine whispers, her eyes inspecting me once more. I feel scared again. Finally, she stands up to her full height and I tilt my head up to look at her. “Well, I think I’ve made my choice on the matter. Now, you must make one yourself,” she says, much to my confusion. She laughs warmly, holding her hoof out towards me. I flinch. “Would you like to become my sentinel, Fifty-five of Four?” she asks with a level tone.

I look down from her face and to her outstretched hoof. She’s choosing me! A bestower is choosing me! I think, buzzing from pure astonishment.

“Y-y-you want me to b-be your sentinel?!” I ask, flabbergasted, looking back up.

She simply looks back at me with confidence. “Why, but of course,” she says, still holding her hoof out, giggling. “I’ve kept my eye on you for quite a while now.”

“Oh… how come I’ve never seen you before?”

“An infiltrator can remain undetected by even the most trained eye. To remain unseen by a spawn of rambunctious hatchlings is no challenge at all.”

“You’re an infiltrator?” My ears perk up.

She nods. “I am.”

I glance down at her hoof again, buzzing uncontrollably. “And if I say yes, I get to go with you?”

She nods again.

I let out a long breath before slowly reaching out towards her hoof, as if it would disappear before my very eyes, like a waking dream. Finally, I close the distance, taking her much larger hoof in my own. “I w-want to be your s-sen- sentinel,” I breathe out, shaking.

She takes hold of me, pulling me over to her side with a warm expression. Instinctually, I push myself up onto her back, sitting between her large wings.

She glances at me from over her shoulder. “Are you comfortable?”

I quickly nod. “Mmhm.”

“Okay, hold on tight now,” Ninety-nine says, slowly trotting towards the front of the chamber.

“W-where are we going?” I ask, bumping up and down as she moves.

She turns her head over to me again. “To my dugout in the infiltration wing, near the surface,” she states, continuing to walk.

“The surface?!” I squeak.

“Not far from there, yes,” she pauses. “Have you ever been there?”

I shake my head even though she looks forward. “No...”

“So, I take it that you’ve remained here in the nursery for much of your life, then?”

I think for a moment. “We visited the collection chambers where they enchant all the love crystals, once. Oh, and the throne room inside the royal halls to see the queens once, w-when I was littler,” I explain.

“And which of the two do you call ‘Mother’?” She turns to look at me.

“Queen Violet,” I reply. “She’s my mother.”

She grins brightly. “As is mine. Fate has brought us together, it seems.” She gives a soft laughter.

I test the unknown word against my tongue. “Fate?”

Ninety-nine’s ears fold back. “Apologies, it is nothing more than a pony word,” she iterates. “It means… well, the concept itself is not of our kind but... it matters not; think nothing of it,” she dismisses.

“Okay,” I say quietly, looking back into the chamber as we cross the threshold.

Some of the other hatchlings are carried on the backs of the adults that had come. One sentinel for each bestower. But an overwhelmingly large majority of hatchlings are left behind. Most go on oblivious, or without seeming to care, but a few look… shattered.

“Are you going to miss any of them?” Ninety-nine asks quietly, grabbing my attention.

“No,” I answer honestly. “Sh-should I?” I ask her, cautious.

“You shouldn’t,” she replies evenly, right before turning the corner and taking us both away from the nursery.

****

I look down at the tube of glass, sitting idly and untouched on my workbench. My half-lidded eyes glance up and out the window, into the dimming blue light. The hour is growing late, and I find that the emptiness has returned alongside it.

But it isn’t the emptiness of hunger that I’ve become accustomed to.

No. This, somehow, feels even hollower.

An emptiness of an entirely different kind.