Fallout: Equestria - Whispers

Fallout: Equestria - Whispers

Written by Kingofhills

Chapter 2: Prejudice

“Hey, chin up. I know the night just got darker, but it won’t last forever!”

I suppose I owe you some kind of explanation.

To get that right out of the way: even though I am able to change my shape at will, I did not kill anypony to assume their identity. The thought alone makes something turn inside me. No, from the very beginning I’ve been known in Sheepshead as something unique, only roughly resembling a pony in shape.

So… there’s that. Everyone including myself was convinced that I had simply undergone a vile mutation. That I was just severely affected by taint which caused holes to appear in my legs, my hide to harden and become a shell, my irises to disappear, my horn to become nearly useless and my wings to grow randomly out of nowhere.

Still, even my unique carapace did not prevent a headache from pulsating from the back of my head as I regained consciousness.

Despite my mind desperately trying to recover from panic-induced unconsciousness, I refused to open my eyes in fear of what sight may await me. I wanted to believe that when I did finally take a look, the familiar, wooden wall of my room would await me; that I would already feel the scent of my dad’s cooking slipping its way into my nostrils through the crack in the door; that I would get up and start my day as usual, the events I had just been through considered nothing but a nightmare.

Of course, reality couldn't care less what I wanted. As I opened my eyes, I was welcomed with a sight of the still, cold body of the mare I thought I had saved. I felt my heart sink like a stone as I moved my eyes to look at the raider instead; luckily, he was very much dead, too. The metal wrench I had just used to bludgeon him was lying in front of me, stained with- no. Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it…

I shook my head and got up, pushing the gut-wrenching thoughts away. My eyes wandered to the bags I had left here, one of them open near where I fell unconscious. I remembered how the wrench was already lying on the ground when I picked it up; The mare must have tried using it for self defense, just as I did. The reason why she had failed, and I had not, boiled down to luck and the ability to suddenly burst into flames.

At that moment a faint, dull pain in my shoulder joined the throbbing in my head, reminding me of the encounter with the cannibalistic raider. It wasn’t hindering my movements at the moment, but Goddesses only knew if he carried some nasty diseases or not. I wasn’t qualified to treat it, which put finding a doctor to take a look at this wound near the top of my priority list. Said list was growing at an alarming rate, making me wonder just how much I would be able to do before collapsing from exhaustion.

My train of thought suddenly disappeared and my ears perked up when I realised that it had been awfully quiet. A single glance towards the trapdoor leading into Sheepshead confirmed that it was still closed, though. I approached it cautiously. Did I really want to take a look? I couldn't hear anypony speaking from the other side, but if someone was looking in my direction… And yet the information about the state of my home was a very, very tempting thing to consider.

My curious uncertainty was quickly resolved when I tried to push the trapdoor to sneak a peek through, only to feel strong resistance. Something was blocking the door from the other side. I tried pushing harder, but it wouldn't even budge. A couple of attempts later, a heavy sigh left me as I dropped onto my haunches in resignation.

A solid moment later I frowned, I realised I was left with no other options. I glanced back to the other end of the tunnel, at the exit, before getting up and trotting towards it. I pressed my hoof against the cold wood and, much to my relief, this one did not offer any resistance other than what I would expect from a simple wooden trapdoor.

Knowing that I was not going to suffocate, I could finally consider my options with a relatively clear mind. My father was right, staying in Sheepshead would be suicide if those cannibalistic monsters were still around. There was a chance that they would find this secret passage, too, so I couldn't stay here for too long. That realisation made me actually wonder how long I had been out. A couple of minutes? An hour? Half a day? Goddesses only knew. It was just another reason to get the heck away from that place.

I desperately wanted to know what happened to my dad, though. Deep inside I knew he was resourceful and smart enough to actually escape, but I was still worried sick and felt an unexplainable weight on my chest as stress ate away at my sanity. Attempting to focus on more positive memories, I remembered how he told me he had found me in some old ruins when I was merely past infancy. At first, he apparently took me for an estranged animal that lost its mother, but that perception changed when he discovered I was, in fact, a sapient creature. He treated me as his son ever since. I believed him, heck - I felt his connection to me; to him, I mattered as much as his own foal would.

Losing him would mean losing the entire world at that point. Even though he knew something like this might happen and clearly had a contingency plan, against such an overwhelming enemy even the best of plans might not have been enough. Without him, I did not have much of a chance to make it through for more than a week. I've heard of the monstrosities that wander the wastes. Some of them were so dangerous that I couldn't even hope to spot them from the di-

My train of fruitless thought was interrupted once more as I blinked, only then realising my E.F.S was still attached and working.

I promptly ignored the fact that my thoughts were in utter disarray and immediately concentrated on the IFF display, turning my head back towards Sheepshead and observing the commotion. A couple of small, red dots appeared on the bar at the bottom, confirming my suspicions that the raiders hadn't left the village. At best, they were still looting, but at worst? They may have decided to stay there for good.

Knowing there was no point in turning back, I eventually forced myself to gather my belongings. Stuffing the wrench back into the toolbag, I closed its straps and attached it to a comfy saddle on the left side. On the right side hung my saddlebag, currently filled with a few dozen caps, as well as a half-finished bottle of water and a couple of mostly useless trinkets. The saddle fit snugly on my back, the leather straps not feeling as tight thanks to the thick coat my father had passed to me a while ago.

Turning my head towards the exit, I spared one last glance to the deceased mare. A pang of guilt struck me; she did not deserve such gruesome death, nor to be left here abandoned, forgotten, and slowly decaying. But what could I do? Staying here meant I would have to put so much at risk. I could be caught by the raiders. My father might be in trouble and I would be too late to help him. That sick bastard who was lying next to her could wake up by some sick twist of fate and actually kill me this time...

There were so many ways this could go wrong. Eventually, I apologized internally to the poor mare, and promised to come back someday to properly bury her. Then, with a firm push against the trapdoor, I left the tunnel.

I was welcomed with the bleak sunlight of a mid-afternoon sun basking me and my surroundings in a soft glow. I had to squint my eyes from the sudden difference in lighting, the sight of the outside world nearly blinding me. The smoke from the fires was a mere trail now, not interrupting the sun rays in the slightest. Similarly, and quite surprisingly, there was not a single cloud to be seen.

The sight of the sun was a relatively new phenomenon for flightless creatures. After the cloud curtain had been dissolved on the day of The Grand Reveal, as the northerners called it, we could feel its warmth on our cheeks for the first time. I was among the ponies who could see the rainbow nova spreading through the skies, dissipating the dark, heavy barrier above us and bringing back a small piece of the old, peaceful Equestria we had heard of in tales from our parents.

The change was welcome, of course, but to most ponies it was just a small blessing in an otherwise harsh wasteland. Crops were still difficult to grow, ponies still needed warm clothing, especially in the winter season; the trails were still covered in a thin layer of snow every now and then, hiding hoofsteps and making it harder to navigate. Most of these issues never bothered us, though. Sheepshead was relatively close to the core of The Equestrian Wasteland, much closer than to the mountain border with the Frozen North. The temperature was fairly decent, if chilly, and we could still grow more resilient crops without much trouble.

Shaking myself away from the pointless thinking I focused on the E.F.S once more. The periodically blinking marker was pointing somewhere in the north-eastern direction. I was reminded of the theoretical lessons on navigating my father tried to teach me. It was time to see if I remembered anything. Re-focusing on the ‘real’ world I looked into the distance, seeing nothing but a few hills and an occasional, dead tree here and there. The horizon line was concealed by a small hill that, from where I was looking, crested around my eye level. There was little in terms of landmarks or potential reference points, the view was mediocre at best, and there were few hiding spots should a raider party approach me.

Basically, it was as good as the landscape could get in that area, which only made me more thankful for the wonder of arcanomagical tech strapped over my right eye.

Making sure the straps are attached correctly, that I had some water left in my bottle and that my saddlebags wouldn’t accidentally open themselves if I had to run, I closed my eyes and focused again. For a brief moment, the green flame encompassed me again, and my old, pony form returned. The hardened chitin was replaced with a soft, chestnut coat with a white spot on my chest. Those odd frills on my head turned into a ruffled, short, brown mane; the same happened to my tail. My horn and wings disappeared completely, as did the holes in my limbs.

With my usual, pony form back on, and with increasingly worried thoughts, I set out towards Junk Hoard.

* * *

I considered myself both incredibly lucky and stunningly unlucky, as I had not seen a single living soul throughout most of my journey up north. Not even a single mutated animal, not a single bandit that wanted to rob me off all my personal belongings and stick a knife up my tailhole… not a single rodent or other critter that could serve as a food source. I was being periodically reminded by my groaning belly about the fact that the last thing I ate were some cold, mashed tatos from the morning. There was no sign of them in my belly now, and the feeling of discomfort caused by an empty stomach would soon be joined by the growing fatigue.

The journey had been long enough for the sun to set below the dark clouds near the horizon once again, covering the land in ever growing darkness. The shadows became both longer and more indistinguishable as the shimmering sun left space for the moon to rise in its stead; similarly, the already low temperature decreased even further. The ground felt hard against my bare hooves, barren and hardened by countless winters. My aching legs told me that I should find a shelter for the night, and they wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, either.

I was amazed when the eyepiece I had been wearing actually adjusted its brightness dynamically to match the lighting around me; I assumed it simply registered the amount of light that reached the screen and based its calculations on that, but I couldn’t really confirm my suspicions at the time. Navigation using that device would take a while to get used to, even though the interface was as simple as it could get. I couldn’t rely solely on the pointer at the bottom of the screen, as there had been obstacles such as trees, old riverbanks, massive rock formations and other natural stopping points that prevented me from going in a simple, straight line. Damn those natural formations!

The terrain was fairly easy to navigate while it was still relatively bright, but I had to find some shelter quickly. Fortunately, that’s when I saw the top of a building above one of the hill peaks. Swiftly trotting up that hill, I took in the sight before me, sighing in relief.

There, a couple of hundred feet away stood a large, secluded house, or should I say - a small mansion. From a distance, this entire place seemed to have been abandoned for at least a couple of months: the windows were mostly intact, but the porch before the house was in disarray, and even from far away I could see that it was cluttered with useless junk. The dull grey of the outside walls, currently illuminated in a gentle orange hue, probably used to be coloured pristine white back in the day, and the roof likely used to not miss half of its tiles. Whoever decided to build their expensive, two-story home in the middle of nowhere either had to be extremely extravagant, or ridiculously rich, or both.

What mattered the most, however, was the lack of any signs of raiders. No heads impaled on sharp sticks, no bodies strewn across the walls, no spikes jutting out of every flat surface. The promise of a safe and relatively warm shelter lifted my spirits up considerably, and I felt myself audibly sigh in relief. I could almost feel the tension slowly ease off my muscles, and if there was anyone watching my face at that moment they would clearly notice the moment I went from worrying for my life to thanking the goddesses up in the skies. Without wasting a moment I ended up making my way towards the house.

I took some basic precautions while stepping onto the old, wooden porch, like checking for any tripwires or loose planks that could spell my demise had I not been careful enough. I made sure the door was not boobytrapped and took a step inside, looking around the dusty interior with caution. There was a short corridor that branched off into two paths right at the start, with one of them leading up the stairs onto the first floor and the other going further into the house. Off to either side of the corridor was a pair of doors, aligned in a nearly symmetrical fashion.

I picked the first door to the right and began my search. This place seemed to be some kind of a living room, with an old, stained coach standing by the wall opposite of the entrance. A small, wooden coffee table stood before it, with a vase with crumbled, long-dead remains of a flower sprinkled around it. Various pieces of furniture passed the test of time in a similar fashion, with cupboards long stripped of their interiors presenting themselves as most preserved ones.

That room had a connection to the one further down the corridor, which ended up being a decently sized kitchen, with an additional door to the bathroom on the far right wall. Most appliances had been removed, looted or destroyed by the time I had come in there, but the place seemed surprisingly well maintained; were it in any better condition, I would say someone had been living there for a long while. Even the fridge was working, presumably powered by a small generator somewhere outside. I found myself eagerly scooping the only somewhat edible thing left to eat in there, which turned out to be a can of old cram that was almost certainly past the consumption date.

The other two rooms on the ground floor held nothing of interest, being filled mostly with some old, empty boxes. I decided to move to the top floor, which held the best gift I could ever hope for: an intact bed with a mattress! In fact, that bed was the only thing in that room, though it was definitely enough to grab my attention. One could say that this place was nearly barren, as if left specifically to keep some guests from sleeping on the cold floor. There wasn’t even any nightstand nor cupboard!

Yet the only thing that mattered to me at that moment was within hooves’ reach. Without a second though I got rid of my saddle, trotted over to the bed and then promptly laid down on it, sighing in relief. It might not have been as comfy as my own, but it would do.

A wave of fatigue washed over me when I realised that I haven’t checked the rest of the top floor yet. Luckily, my strong will prevailed over my laziness and I got up and took a brief moment to sweep the rest of the rooms. There was not much to see, really, aside from another bathroom and a long-looted attic. I finally allowed myself to get back to the bedchamber, lie down on the comfy-looking bed, and close my eyes.

Before I had fallen into slumber, I allowed my thoughts to drift. I consciously avoided the topic of recent events and focused on other things instead… like my friends. Other ponies I had known. Memories of my youth, when I played around with a bunch of colts and accidentally turned into one of them… No. I was not in the mood for kicking myself over the past again.

Instead, I focused on myself in general. For the longest time, I was not sure what had happened to cause me to be so different from other ponies. My father never explained it to me, though I assumed he simply didn’t know, either. Was I even a pony? Admittedly, on one hoof it was quite handy to be able to do what most ponies couldn’t, flying being one of those things. On the other, other settlers were afraid of my original form; enough for me to feel alienated, in a way. Eventually I managed to stick to one pony form and stayed in it. I had to admit, the dissonance in my mind was one of the reasons why...

<-=======ooO Ooo=======->

...I felt out of place. At first, I was just confused; I hadn’t even realised that my eyes were open until I noticed that the view in front of me was a blurry, hazed and unclear mess. I tried blinking repeatedly, but my muscles wouldn’t even process that thought. It felt as if I was frozen in place, except... I wasn’t. My body was still, but I definitely felt the ground underneath my hooves instead of the mattress I laid down on. My body reacted to the chilly wind that swept past my chitin, but even though I wanted to curl down and hide my naked body from the elements, I just couldn’t.

Then I heard the loud, authoritative, female voice; one that could force you into submission almost instantly, without a moment to protest. A voice that would not tolerate an ounce of disobedience, one that almost made me bow my head… until I realised that I was bowing my head. It forced me to look down onto the ground, onto my bare, chitin-clad hooves that I did not recognise; and yet they ultimately felt familiar, as if I had always been in this odd, unfamiliar shell.

As the voice stopped, I felt my head rise again, as if automatically. Now that I could see a bit more clearly, there were many, many shapes around me, all similar in their form, colour and structure. Hundreds, or maybe thousands of bug-like forms akin to mine stood firm and tall, looking right at a much taller, slim shape that stood on a podium far in the distance.

If I had any control over my body, I would have widened my eyes as I observed the lone, imposing figure on a pedestal. Her tall, regal-like posture spoke highly of her authority, as did her powerful, nearly mind-drilling voice. I couldn’t really make out what she was saying, though; her words seemed distorted and jarred, as if spoken through a thick wave of glass, and yet their tone was perfectly recognisable. The figure’s long, jagged horn was glowing with a meek, green light while her wings opened up, revealing a beautiful, regal form. She was perfect in every way.

The speech lasted for a long while before it eventually finished. All the way through, the bizarre realisation of being unable to hear the exact words kept my mind so occupied that I barely realised when her voice was replaced with a louder, less coherent sound of my brethren. The creatures around me cheered. Wings were buzzing, chirrs resounded in the air, and hooves were clopping on the cold, stone floor of what I eventually identified as a massive cave complex. And then I felt myself cheer along, with a massive sensation of pride welling up within me. The joy I felt a thousand times stronger than any other feeling I had ever sensed, as if every living being in the hive shared it.

As the crowd started to disperse, the Queen stood still on the pedestal, with her most trusted guards right by her side. I watched her observe her loyal subjects, smiling; she seemed very certain of something, confident in whatever was in her mind. But the most prominent of her emotions was pride. To her, we were more than just servants. We were her children, her legacy, the backbone for the society that would dominate the continent once more, with enough love to sustain ourselves for hundreds of years to come.

It took me a minute to realise why I knew all this. As “I” moved away from the gathering, lifting into the air almost effortlessly I had realised that we were all connected. Our mentalities, shared into one fluid being, all connected and intertwined at the heart of our hive - the Mother Queen herself. She was the core of our operations. Her mere presence gave us all motivation to move on, to struggle further to gain enough love to survive; by her will, we would prevail and rule.

I heard a faint flutter of wind somewhere to my left, but it was so quiet and random that I could not pay it any attention. My mind was filled with the excitement and joy of being a part of something bigger: a developed, thriving society that was about to grow even further, thanks to the Queen’s guidance.

Even though we could technically share emotions directly through the hive-mind, I saw one other bug-pony move over towards me. He spoke out to me in a strange, buzzing voice that I soon realised was very similar to how the Queen herself had been speaking.

“The preparations are entering their final stage, sir” the other person said, saluting with his right hoof. Wait… saluting? To me? And why did my hearing suddenly come back? “The war machines are ready, and all units are reporting final preparations for the march out.”

“Good,” I replied, in a voice that definitely did not match my own. “How has the Equestrian political situation developed?”

The other hybrid, presumably one of the lower officers, cleared his throat. “Our infiltrators have reported that the equestrians are still in the middle of negotiations with the Zebrican Caesar. The war has already taken a heavy toll on both sides, so they both are trying to seek a compromise, but they are failing. Their security is sure to be on high alert because of this. General Vraak says that the sooner we attack, the higher our chances, but the attack has to be preceded by the enactment of the Dissonance plan.”

I felt my… other… self put a hoof to my chin, pondering on… something. All that I was personally thinking of right now is what kind of weird situation I found myself in. This was not a typical dream, because if it was, I would have already woken up from the realisation. How was I a completely different person? Why couldn’t I control my own body? Where the hell even was I?

“Then we shall march tomorrow, as our Queen wills it. Send the word to the infiltrators. The glorious changeling hive of Chrysalis will not be defeated again,” I heard my ‘host’ say, which was met with a single salute before the other male moved out. The stallion whose eyes I’ve been looking from all this time observed the officer, clearly thinking of something.

Then, that same, faint flutter reached my ears. Perhaps it was an ounce of common sense, a little warning light that promptly appeared in my host’s head. Perhaps it was years of training that allowed him to understand that a random flutter does not just appear twice within such a short timespan; regardless, the sound grabbed his attention, and I felt myself turn my head around to where it originated from.

Narrowing my eyes, I focused on other bugponies in the area. Nobody was trying to sneak by. Nobody shifted into a different form, there was no pony in sight, no sign of any subversive activity. As I carefully observed my surroundings, I couldn’t see any reason to worry.

So why did I seem extremely worried?

The answer came as I noticed the faintest trace of movement higher up, on a ledge nearby. To an untrained eye such as myself it would have been impossible to notice; the only reason I knew is because my host realised what that was, and immediately sprung into action. As he flew towards the ledge, rapidly beating his wings, I saw what he must have seen from down below: a barrel of a long, sleek weapon.

Aimed right at the podium, where the creature I assumed was the Queen was still standing.

Time almost froze as my muscles kicked in to get that weapon away, but then - as my wings furiously beat against the chilly air, propelling me forward - I saw the flash of the muzzle, immediately followed by a massive, loud explosion. It rang even louder as it reverberated from the cavern walls. A single shot from a high-caliber weapon was all that was needed for the voice of our Mother to suddenly disappear, going silent.

As my senses were overloaded with sudden, panicked screams and the temporary tinnitus from hearing a gunshot from such a short distance, I desperately forced myself to continue on with my course. My host’s movement was determined, but faltering. By the time I reached the ledge, I saw that the weapon seemed practically abandoned, with absolutely no one in sight. I frantically looked around to see the culprit, to immediately catch them and bring them to justice…

...but my search would be interrupted by the rising panic of hundreds of voices. All of the hive exploded in a violent, uncontrolled chaos as drones, workers, and simple-minded soldiers suddenly lost everything their life was devoted to. It made concentrating nearly impossible. As grief, shock and confusion settled within the hive, my host narrowed his eyes when he noticed a brief trace of a rainbow mane flickering in the air, as if appearing and then disappearing again as it moved around the corner.

And while he took off to chase after the assassin, other nodes in the hivemind wailed in desperation for a voice to guide them once more.

<-=======ooO Ooo=======->

I felt my body come back to life suddenly, as if I was dragged into ice-cold water by surprise. A shiver ran down my spine as the emotions I had felt throughout this dream lingered somewhere in the back of my mind; the unfathomable horror of losing the only reason to live, the only meaning of existence, in a fraction of a second. Just like that, with a single gunshot.

I was terrified. Not only because this weird, semi-conscious dream left an imprint on my brain for long enough to linger past the waking, but also because all of it felt so… real. As if I was there, with my very own body and mind, observing the events unfold and being there for the ride. It definitely felt way too real to be disregarded as a simple nightmare.

Among the confusion I heard one name that gave me a semblance of a clue what to do next. ‘The glorious changeling hive of Chrysalis’ was a name I had never heard of before. Was that what I was? A changeling? Were all these other bug-like creatures my brethren? They sure looked similar to me, and they seemed to talk about old Equestria and planning a war against the ponies, but… why?

It all felt too big for me to understand, and yet - in some twisted, indescribable way - it felt right. As if I was meant to be there, part of this large gathering of creatures similar to me, being a part of something much greater than everyday struggle I was so used to. In a way, it felt as if some part of me longed for this ever-present stream of consciousness within my head. The Hivemind. Perhaps it really was something my kind was supposed to know from the start, a part of their everyday lives that nobody would ever question.

Which made me wonder: Why was I not with other changelings, like me? Were there even any changelings left? Was there any hivemind to become a part of in the first place? Was I a legitimate member of my species?

...what was my species, exactly?

These questions felt way too big for me to understand at the moment. Instead, I left that train of thought and focused on the present day. Only then did I realise that I’ve been hearing a commotion somewhere below me.

A chill ran down my spine. Remembering that there was nopony inside the building when I first came in, and knowing that I was not being held at gunpoint, I reckoned they were not aware of my presence yet. The question left to answer was whether they were some lucky wastelander that just happened to arrive on the same day I did, or if this house was, in fact, inhabited.

Slowly, I led myself towards the staircase and gradually stepped down its steps, making as little sound as possible. Whoever was in the house aside from me was currently in the kitchen, doing… something. Probably searching for food, or making it. I peeked around the corner, only to see a lean unicorn with a dirty yellow coat and a dark brown, scrawny mane and tail. His horn was lit up as he stood by the counter, moving some small cans around and opening them with a surprisingly nice-looking multitool. He wore light, comfy-looking clothes covered in straps of leather here and there, presumably in order to provide a slightest degree of protection. A round, dirty hat lay on his head, with the hole for his horn manually cut away.

I carefully considered my options. The safest bet would be to just leave unnoticed, but… I remembered one of the lessons my father told me so many times I got sick of it. “Always take the advantage when you can,” he used to say. At the time I figured it related to life-or-death situations, when I would be forced to run or fight if I wanted to survive, but… at the moment, I was looking with very hungry eyes at the cans of preserved meat. I was still starving. Could I actually hurt or even kill this presumably innocent pony, just so I could live another day in relative comfort?

No… I felt something churn within my gut. How could I even think of that? Hurting an innocent person to obtain their stuff is what raiders did; the same ones that wrecked my village and killed or enslaved so many ponies. For a brief moment, my mind returned to the beginning of this dreaded day, but I quickly pushed those thoughts away; I didn’t have time to ponder on-

“What the fuck are you?!”

The sudden, startled voice of the stallion surprised me as I realised he was looking right at me. It startled me as well, because he didn’t say “who”; he said “what”. When did I switch back to my original form?! I didn’t have the time to understand it, as I saw his horn lit up brightly. I saw a shape of something that looked suspiciously like a 10mm pistol being lifted from the counter.

“No, wait!” I shouted, immediately hiding behind the corner as I heard nearly deafening cracks of the unicorn’s personal weapon. “I don’t mean you any harm!”

“Get the fuck away from me, you weird fucker! Away from my house!” He shouted in return, as if completely ignoring my words. The marker on my E.F.S representing the pony was red at the moment, and it was moving towards me at a slow pace. I could sense the aggressive territory defense mechanisms take over his actions; he was clearly trying to murder me. I paled and ran back to the living room, making up a plan on the spot. My saddlebags and the toolbag were both left on the first floor of the building. I had to think of a way to either get back there unnoticed, or convince the stallion to just let me grab my things and be on my way.

Now that this pony knew of my existence, sneaking by him would be nearly impossible. I had to resort to my questionable rhetoric skills instead.

“Listen to me, please!” I shouted in reply, loudly enough to ensure he could hear me, but still staying away from his line of sight. “I left my stuff upstairs. Let me take them, and I’ll be on my way! I promise I’ll never enter your house again!”

For a moment, there was no reply. The dot on the eyepiece, however, suggested that the stallion had stopped moving. It took him a few seconds before he spoke again. His marker was still hostile, though. “You’re not even a pony! How can I trust you?”

I cleared my throat, carefully observing if he was trying to move towards me again. “I’m talking to you, alright? I’m not hostile, and this is just a misunderstanding. Hell, I didn’t know this place was inhabited when I came here! I just needed someplace to rest, that’s all. Let me grab my things and I’ll be on my way!”

My words were once again met with a brief silence. Much to my relief, the dot was still unmoving; I used that as an opportunity to slowly inch myself to the opposite side of the marker, as quietly as possible. Finally, he spoke again, his tone clearly strained.

“Come out. Slowly,” said the stallion, and I obeyed his command without missing a beat. My bug-like form stepped out from the alcove, only to see the scared unicorn still pointing his gun at me. “Go up, take your things. I’ve got my eye on you.” The sight of a 10-milimeter barrel gaping at the level of my eyes was a convincing enough argument, so I simply nodded and moved towards the stairs silently. Having noticed that I have absolutely nothing with me, the stallion slightly relaxed, but still kept his weapon pointed at me as I walked.

The trip to the sleeping room was short, but incredibly stressful. All the while I could nearly feel his breath on my back, as if he did not want to give me even a little space for movement. I couldn’t blame him, really; he was defending himself and his home from an unknown aggressor. All I hoped for was that he wouldn’t be so jumpy on the trigger.

As we stepped into the room, I pointed my hoof at the two bags left in there. “These are my things,” I said, trying to mitigate the tension in my jaw. I moved over to take the bags back, and soon enough, I was good to go. “See? I don’t want to harm you. Just let me go, and you will never see me again.”

At this point, the unicorn seemed to relax a little. He even lowered his gun, though he still eyed me with a critical, penetrating stare. “Fine. You know the way out,” he said, keeping his face as emotionless as he could.

I took that as my cue to leave. As I walked out, I saw him still keeping behind me, weapon at the ready in case I tried anything dumb. I did not plan to leave this house with a hole in my head, though. Keeping a steady, somewhat fast tempo I reached the main door again and sighed.

“Wait.” I heard him call out once again to me, just as I was about to leave.

I turned my head around, a sign of worry in my eyes. “Yeah?”

“What… are you?” He asked. I realised his tone had been much less intimidating now that I was out of his household. “You’re not a pony, are you?”

I shook my head a few times, fixing the saddlebags on my back as I replied. “No. I’m… not sure what I am. I think I’m called a changeling, but...”

I wanted to say something more, to explain a little bit on how I was thrown into the wilds just earlier that day. But then I looked at the unicorn’s face as it contorted into what I could best describe as “angry shock”. It was as if a magic spell had just poofed. His horn lit brighter again as he gripped on the pistol once more, aiming it at me.

“You…! I know what you are now! I should have shot you when I had the chance!” He exclaimed, much to my unpleasant surprise. The sudden shift in tone left me almost speechless.

“W-what?” I only managed to stammer, but the stranger kept talking, as if throwing a hissy fit.

“Your kind is responsible for all of… of this!” He said, pointing his hoof somewhere in the wasteland. “I’ve heard so much of you… how you kidnapped ponies and replaced them. How you almost enslaved us all!”

I found myself taking a few, hasty steps back. “N-no, that’s not-”

“And now you wanted to replace me! But I know your tricks, you buggy fuckers; You won’t fucking get me!” He shouted, aiming the gun right at me!

I did the only reasonable thing I could think of, and smashed the door right against his face using my weak telekinesis. The effect was not as strong as I wanted it to be, but it was enough to allow me to start running. I heard his cry of pain as his snout was met with a rapidly moving piece of furniture while I increased my distance from the clearly mad pony!

Luckily for me, the night had already fallen by that point. I managed to get about sixty feet away from the unicorn when I heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, then another, and then a couple more. I yelped as some of the shots landed mere inches away from my hooves, but I kept going; kept moving without a clear direction, with one, simple thing in my mind: Survive.

I felt my heart pound with staggering force as I got away at last. I had no idea how long I’d been running, or what caused the unicorn to suddenly become so aggressive. Personally, I’ve done nothing wrong to him, other than accidentally breaking into his house; He kept on rambling mad things that probably related to something that happened before the war, but… he didn’t even know what changelings looked like! How could anypony be so prejudiced without even knowing the person they talked to?!

I just… didn’t know. This was all way too much for me. I just kept running, even as the house I just left became a speck on the horizon.

* * *

I stopped running only after I felt my lungs cry out in protest. They burned from the exhausting effort I put them through, heaving and making it difficult to breathe even as I was relatively safe. Now that running away was not necessary, I simply stopped for a moment, trying my best to deepen my breaths and not to hyperventilate. To make it worse, I once more felt the dull throbbing from my arm, as if that wound was having a really hard time healing itself.

A couple of moments later, when the adrenaline got off, I felt the real exhaustion start to kick in. I was barely moving my hooves against the ground, hungry, thirsty, and almost without a single coherent thought. What little sleep I managed to get was clearly not enough for my strained mind. I felt like I could just collapse in the middle of the wasteland and fall asleep then and there. The only thing that prevented me from doing so was the danger of being found by some wild animal and devoured in my sleep.

By the time I reached some kind of landmark, the first rays of sunlight peeked out from below the horizon. It was still dark as hell, but I managed to reach some old, utterly wrecked ruins. It must have been a small, undefended town in the past; the lack of a clear line of defense and the presence of a couple of roads crossing in a few places suggested this place used to be some kind of trading outpost. There were remains of some kind of building on the corner of the street. I promptly walked into it carelessly, too tired to even look for traps or anything else I would regret stepping onto.

Luckily enough, nothing happened to me. Seeing nothing but a small piece of wooden floor that still had a roof over it, I moved over there, covered myself as good as I could with my bag (and let me tell you, a small saddlebag did not offer any decent protection against the elements), and…

...I cried. The events of the past day all accumulated inside me, my worries welling up and up, until I finally erupted in a volcano of pent-up emotions. From losing my home, to losing the track of my dad, to being wrongly accused of being responsible for the Great War and its repercussions. I cried, quietly and without any fanfare, letting the warm tears roll down my cheeks and onto the hard, wooden floor.

I really… really missed my home.

...

At some point I simply fell asleep. This time, I had no nightmares. No visions from the past. No ponies claiming I had broken into their home to kill and replace them.

I woke up some time later, with the sun shining through a small cloud cover, only to feel something blunt, thick and hard nudging at me. As it did, a mare’s voice reached my ears.

“Well, would you look at that…”

* * *

Footnote: Level Up!
New Perk: Dodger (1) - At this point you might as well be called Usain Colt. You can move your hooves so fast that bullets are having a hard time actually finding you! +10% chance to avoid any incoming attack for every level of this perk.