Strawberry Sunrise
Dear Journal,
I’ll be upfront. I don’t want to write in a Queen-forsaken book. It’s evidence, I said, and a distraction when I should be making my field reports, but would our dear queen-to-be Miasma hear anything of it? No! She’s got Her Majesty, Glory of the Hive, wrapped around her wingtip. Something about “acting like a pony?” Bah. Lovestruck fillies write in diaries. Full-grown mares do not. I, of course, am neither, but the point still stands.
Needless to say, I didn’t win that argument. Once the Queen stepped in, it was over and I was wrong. When it comes to the Queen, I am, and I accept that, but with Miasma? Not a chance in Tartarus. She’s in the wrong, and she knows it, that conniving nymph! I swear, she spends all her efforts trying to get my attention for the most ridiculous ideas.
Today marks the day that Strawberry Sunrise moves to Ponyville. I’ve got my ticket here with my cover name on it and everything. Being a pegasus was at least a slightly more reasonable choice. Thank the Hive some of them have a bit of sense in their head. If it were up to Miasma alone, I bet she’d have me be an alicorn. The point of a disguise is to avoid detection, but Hive knows she’d want me to be far more showy than what’s practical.
But nooo, along with the clothes (stolen), photographs (magazine clippings), furniture (painted changeling resin), and food (fake), I get to lug around a fun little book to write in!
Oh, the joys.
At least I’m out of the Hive and on my own mission at last. Anything to be out of that swamp.
Dear Journal,
How I hate that infernal music!
I’m trying to get sleep like all ponies are supposed to need, and I get woken up at the buttcrack of dawn to what feels like every single equine in this town caterwauling in chorus. None of them are off-key, and I hate that. I hate the instruments, I hate the morning, and I hate Ponyville!
Stupid book. I only brought it with me to the Market so I don’t have to look any pony in the eye. My training never brought it up specifically, but I think a good-morning-glare would be suspicious.
You know who responded to my initial report?
Miasma!
You know what she sent?
Stickers! For this useless book!
Can you guess what she didn’t send?
ORDERS!
So now I’m stuck here, writing to… Hm. Who in our Queen’s beloved name am I writing to? To myself, I guess, about the morning sing-along. What am I supposed to report back? The only concerning observation I’ve made is that every single fluffy horse thinks sunrise is a good time to-
Sunrise. My name. Oh, ha-ha. Scratch that, I’m never telling Miasma about the early-morning serenades. She’d think it’s hilarious.
- Strawberry Anything-But-Sunrise
Dear Journal,
Still no orders on what, specifically, to monitor. They just said to keep an eye on anypony suspicious. The Pink One is watching me. She’s never nearby when I look up from writing, but I can feel her gaze when I look back down. That’s suspicious enough, right?
My Queen, my real queen and not that early-hatched nymph, bless her foolish heart, will want to hear about this, I’m sure.
I bought a strawberry from the marketplace. It was only fair to try one, right? It’s in my name. I don’t exactly look like a fruit, but I should at least know what ponies think of when they say my name. Besides, my latest “orders” consisted mostly of a long-winded lecture to purchase food items. I’ve been told that most ponies like eating things, and from what I’ve observed, that’s uncomfortably close to the truth.
Turns out, strawberries are terrible. It only makes sense that a pony would name themselves after something so sickly. Stupid ponies. Stupid plant-based diet. I miss the delicate crunch of swamp bugs. No two bites were ever alike!
Addendum to my previous entry:
Apparently, you aren’t supposed to eat the strawberry leaves. Or the stem.
Stupid fruit.
Dear Stupid Pulpy Mess,
The Pink One accidentally kicked you in the fountain and I’m happy about it! You hear me? HAPPY!
I only dried you off to maintain my cover (and yours. Flimsy tree mush.) I didn’t ask for a party! I didn’t ask to be welcomed! Somepony had the audacity to compliment the stickers on your cover. If only more of them had peeled off, so I’d be targeted with less empathy! You don’t matter to me, little book!
Do you know what they said when I tastefully complained about the singing? They apologized. For what, I don’t know. For being ponies? They don’t know any better. They act like a grub trying on new forms for the first time. Except they’re stuck like that, and don’t even know it. Or were they sorry about waking me up so early? Bah. I don’t need more than an hour or two of sleep. It’s not my fault equines are so inefficient!
The Pink One said she’s sorry about getting you wet. She offered to get me a new one, but I refused. This book… tastes like home, or like I felt when I first arrived. I couldn’t tell her that, of course, but she accepted my halfhearted excuse. Said she still missed her home sometimes, too. Her sentiment tasted genuine, her empathy, and that puzzled me more than I’d ever write in my report back to the Hive.
The cupcakes were, predictably, strawberry-flavored. The universe mocks me with these sweets! Otherwise, the party was… adequate. Equines are strange.
Dear Journal,
I’ve found places for the housewarming gifts the other ponies have left me. If anything, it’ll help with my cover story. Most of them taste like mindless affection, too! I say most, of course, because the gaudy glass orb with a strawberry inside (again with the strawberry!) tastes of a haughty sense of obligation, as though the need to parade the quality of the gift was more important than the act of giving itself.
My reports are less regular, as time goes on. I was told that this is to be expected, as an infiltrator settles into their role, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. I haven’t heard back from the Hive for a while, but that’s okay. Miasma was sending me recipes the last time I complained about the food, and she’s got the taste buds of a toad drunk off of its own toxins.
I wonder what that makes me, for almost liking how a few of them turned out?
Dear Journal,
The Pink One showed up again. She left a box of cupcakes at the doorstep when I didn’t answer the knock. It was only an hour after sunrise, for Hive’s sake! I don’t know what she expects from me, or anypony, for that matter.
None of the cupcakes were strawberry flavor. They were something swirled with chocolate. I’ve come to learn many flavors since I’ve started here.
I hope The Pink One hasn’t been reading this, but the anti-peeping spell I’ve got on it should be enough. These ponies follow their own strange code of ethics. They think it’s rude to snoop, and I’m not inclined to correct them.
I’ve taken to flying down the streets in the evenings, when the crickets begin to sing. It’s not unlike the swamps of Everfree, if I don’t look down. Feathers feel distinctly different than chitin, but I cannot say that I hate it. Any of this. Most ponies haven’t bothered me since the party, save for the one exception. I can respect that.
Dear Journal,
Miasma wrote to me today. The Queen is ill.
I… want to go home.
Addendum to previous:
I can’t go home. Not without somepony asking why I’m leaving. What would I say? Sick family doesn’t even begin to cover how I’m feeling. My being, the center of my existence, my lifeline is unwell. My Queen is so much more than Mother to me.
Does she need me? Questionable, not worth debate. Could I be of help if I were there? Doubtful. Do I wish I could fret with the rest of my siblings? Absolutely.
Miasma, odd as she is, will have to fret enough for the both of us. It’s rare that they’d tell infiltrators so quickly. We’re usually the last on anyling’s mind. Dare I find it strange, that she reached out to me so soon?
Dear Journal,
I hope she’s okay. I’ve heard nothing back and have been wearing down the rugs in the entryway of the house for want of news. There’s been no letters. Perhaps that’s a good thing? They’d tell me if it got worse, wouldn’t they? I’m sure Miasma would send word. I’d even accept another one of her terrible ideas on How To Be More Pony right about now.
I swear, the moment I get a letter, I’ll consider singing with the other morning horses in the streets! A litany to the postal service, and the ‘lings that infiltrate it!
Oh, silent book, don’t you ever tell her that I miss that from her, or I will leave you in the fountain next time!
There was another box of cupcakes on my doorstep when I opened it this morning, to check for news. I don’t remember hearing a knock. Orange basil flavor, this time. It wasn’t nearly as sweet as I thought it’d be. Neither are the townsponies in general, I think, but I mean that in a good way. I’m left well enough alone, for the most part, which means I can watch from afar.
If I had to leave, I wonder who would notice? The Pink One, surely, but few others. It doesn’t matter. I’ve got the Hive. I’ve got Strawberry Sunrise, in all her equine glory, and I’ve got you, don’t I? I can’t say that you’re a friend, but it’s… nice, not writing alone. Again, don’t tell Miasma.
I wonder if the recipes would taste better if I bought a pony book of them. I’ll have to ration the budget the Hive siphons off to me, but I think I can do it.
Dear Diary,
Inheritance is a funny thing.
One moment you’re a live pony, and the next you’re a dead swampling!
Funny, that.
Mum says that enemies make good fertilizer, and I’m half tempted to give him a final bit of usefulness to keep some plants alive. She also says it’s a terrible idea to keep the same spy under the same cover for too long. She’s right. She knows everything.
The ‘ling before me was getting sentimental. You can taste it on his pages! It’s kinda funny, looking back at what he wrote. Too blind to see what was right in front of him, yeah? Same could be said for me, Mum says, but I’m different. I already know I’m sentimental. Besides, I like it here already! Strawberry Sunrise. Fits like a shell.
It feels wrong to sign off like the swamp-bug did. I’ll just use the name my Hive gave me. I’ve got a feeling that she’ll rotate me out with another ‘ling from the Golden Coast sooner or later. Wouldn’t want to repeat mistakes, right?
Dear Diary,
Okay, looking back on the old me’s entries, I kinda got the feeling that nopony wanted to be his/my friend. Let me tell ya, I was wrong! When I went to the big ol’ market today, everypony was waving hi at me! Bug, I tell ya, the swampling must’ve been avoiding them for days. Don’t worry, Strawberry Sunrise, I’ll be a much better you!
One of them did look at me a little funny while I shopped, though. And yeah, the old me didn’t like strawberries, but he was wrong about so many things. There’s nothing like these in Golden Coast! Sand crabs are nice and all, but their meat isn’t nearly so sweet! I should send some seeds home to Mum. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.
Things have been rough back home. Taking other Hives’ covers is a risky play, but Mum knows what she’s doing. We’re a small Hive, and we do what it takes to survive. I’m just glad she picked me to come out here. The weather’s really nice, and everything doesn’t taste like salt! Life is good in Ponytown.
No, Ponyville. Ponyville Ponyvone Ponyvony. Ponypony. Horse.
Oh, Strawberry Scoutrise, everypony in town is gonna see right through you! You weren’t funny or fun! You were a stick in the mud. You gotta change yourself gradually! Gotta… make it seem natural. You woke up one gorgeous morning, and you decided to be different!
It’ll be like you’re a brand new pony.
Dear Diary,
It’s not fair! I thought the changeling switching me out would be from my Hive, but no! Mum said that our allies will be helping us maintain this cover, and I’ll be making my reports in-person! One of us’ll leave town after a week or two, and after a little bit, the other will trot back up the way the first one left, and it’ll be like she took a little walk… through the Everfree Forest.
Yup. Nothing strange about that!
So, the good news is that I get to go home and see Mum again, every few weeks! I’ve missed her a lot, even though I love being Strawberry.
On the other hoof, bad news is some other ‘ling from some weird Hive is gonna get to be my Strawberry Sunrise for a few weeks.
Good news, Strawberry’s really gonna change! She’ll probably have a better social life with two changelings trying to catch up on everyday news!
Bad news, she might end up sucking more than she did when I first got her, since it isn’t always gonna be me making the choices.
New changeling, wherever you are, you’d better do a good job pretending to be me who’s pretending to be Strawberry Sunrise! I’ll tell Mum if you don’t, and she’ll… she’ll… you’ll wish you didn’t mess with us! I don’t know why she thought you were a good idea. Golden Coast is the best Hive, and everyling knows it!
Side note-to-self, eating the flowers in a sandwich is socially acceptable, but as soon as you close your teeth over a flower in somepony’s yard…
Don’t judge me, weird inferior ‘ling. Yard flowers are tastier than sandwich flowers.
Designation: Ashen Grey of Hive Noctillus
It’s rude to speak so poorly about your allies, Scout. Be grateful I don’t report this back to my Queen. Since we are to share Strawberry Sunrise as a cover, I hope that you’ll retain some semblance of professionality in the future.
It would help if we began each of our entries with our designation/name and Hive, so we don’t get confused. Should your Hive require more allies, this will help it get far less confusing. It would also be helpful if we keep consistent record of notable interactions with the residents of Ponyville, so that we don’t forget any important details.
For example, today I spoke with Pinkie Pie (“The Pink One,” if the original changeling’s records are to be believed.) I ordered a dozen cupcakes, and delivered half of them to Night Owl’s library as a moving-away present. She seemed very grateful. I also planted some strawberry sprouts over the corpse of the previous changeling that held our position. One cannot “feed the plants” without any plants to feed.
I also apologized to Ms. Roseluck, regarding the daisies that had previously dotted her garden. Even assuming you are correct about the difference in flavors, it is disrespectful to eat another pony’s plants. They taught us that at the beginning of our infiltrator training, Scout. Am I to presume that your Hive learned things in a different order, or did you miss that day?
Desolation: Sit On It and Spin of Hive Go Buck Yourself
I started it, I’m the ‘ling in charge, and I’ll make the rules.
- Scout, Best Strawberry Sunrise
Designation: Ashen Grey of Hive Noctillus
You failed to mention that you were to attend an auction with one Rarity Belle. Do you know the lengths I had to go to in order to convince her that I, the one and only Strawberry Sunrise, merely forgot about such an important event? There was a good amount of grovelling involved, I assure you. We are fortunate that she is a forgiving sort.
Technically, you didn’t start it. That honor would go to our late swamp changeling. Like it or not, you and whatever allies your Hive will seek out will need to create Strawberry Sunrise together.
Also… be mindful of your language, Ms. Sit On It, lest your new nickname stick.
Destination: Scout of the Golden Coast
Ha! So it does have a sense of humor! Didn’t expect that from the bug whose vocabulary is made of the longest words in the pony dictionary.
I heard back from Mum. Guess we’re getting another allied Hive. Yaaay. As if you weren’t complicated enough, Ashen Grey. Hey, do changelings call you Ashen, or do they call you Grey? My siblings call me Scout, because Scout’s an easy short name that sounds good no matter how you say it. My Mum comes up with the best names.
What’s it like, in your Hive? Mine’s the best! We live on tiny rocky islands along the coast and eat sand crabs and fish for breakfast and live underwater! Can you even swim? Do you like fish? Do you think sand crabs go with strawberries?
Today I tried to eat a bee. Good news, it tastes different than a sand crab! Bad news, it tastes sharper than a sand crab. Strawberry Sunrise stayed home for the rest of the day, and the story is that she accidentally… ate a bee.
Designation: Ashen Grey of Hive Noctillus
You saw an insect that was brightly-striped, loudly humming a warning buzz, and your first instinct was to EAT IT? I’ll never understand you, though I strive to keep from judging your Hive from your behavior alone. Surely, you are the outlier. I mean this in a partially positive manner, mind; you keep Strawberry Sunrise from being as dull as the original was.
I do, in fact, have a sense of humor, though I see no need to prove it to you since, should all go well, we never shall meet. Regardless… why did the DJ Pony get captured by the Hive? The answer is “because she was full of wubs.” I did not come up with this joke, so do not blame me for its quality. (Unless, of course, you enjoyed it. In that case, you are welcome to believe that I originated it!)
I look forward to meeting our new allies. Again, hopefully not face-to-face.
Strawberry Sunrise, on her part, spent an additional day recovering from a truly coincidental bumblebee-related accident, then went to the Market, where she discussed opening a strawberry stall with the local apple farmer. She was cautious about the subject, however, so if we do not wish this as an occupation, we can back out of the topic, if necessary. The rest of the week passed by relatively uneventfully. It disturbs me how few questions I receive about your behavior as a whole.
Changelings of my Hive do not call me either Ashen nor Grey, nor Ashen Grey. If they must refer to me, they simply use whichever alias I am using at the time.
Regarding your other questions, Scout, Hive Noctillus is located near the White Tail Woods. We are nocturnal, and prefer the light of the stars to that of the day. We eat mostly birds and rabbits, and more readily embrace our carnivorous side than most Hives. Yes, I can swim, though not well, and no, I do not like fish. Please do not leave fish in the fridge again. It will not tempt me, and ponies do not usually eat fish.
I admit, I have a query in return. Do you breathe underwater, or do you hold your breath like a seal?
Designation: Nimbus of Hive Hurricane
Nice format. Pleasure to meet you both (meet me both? Disregard, syntax unimportant.) Hoping we will get along.
Scout, best wishes to your Hive. Hurricane stands with you and your Queen. May your troubles be light as the morning breeze.
Ash, you still owe me from Las Pegasus. Pay up, or I’ll schedule an uncomfortably thorough day at the spa for your turn as Strawberry Sunrise.
Today, Strawberry wrote in her journal. Contemplated being she, when she was a he, then she was truly a she, then a he again, and now none of the above as well. Debated meaning of life. Hid in her house when the sky turned black and cowered like a good citizen of Ponyville.
Also, agreed to help Rarity Belle carry boxes of new fabric into her shop over the weekend. If not completed by the time we switch, do note how pleased she is. She seemed eager for the assistance. Could end up being hard work. Always rewarding, especially when it isn’t my turn to do it.
… will speak in full sentences while under cover to maintain consistency, but not here. Apologies, communication faster with fewer unnecessary words. Important when your Hive is built into a northern storm. Energy becomes important to conserve, and the wind is rather loud.
Detention: Scout of the Golden Coast
Ughhh. You two just have to go and know each other, don’t you? Why did I get stuck with the boxes gig? My wings hurt!
Ash (can I call you Ash? Where’d that name even come from, if it isn’t yours?), I can breathe underwater, and see underwater, and swim better than a seal ever could! We’ve got gills. We’re ambidextrous!
I got to meet the new librarian today! She’s got a pet dragon! He’s so small and cute, and smells like smoked meat! Not fish though. He isn’t that cool. Also, I checked out library books. Hope you guys have fun with them, because I just picked random ones off the shelves. Got a few really boring ones for you, Ash, and Nimbus… well, you can read the other ones. At least Strawberry Sunrise is a pegasus, right? You live in a storm, you gotta like flying!
Do you eat birds like Ash does? They fly up pretty high, don’t they? I don’t think bugs fly up that high. Also, do you understand gardening? The strawberry plants in the front yard were doing really well, but they aren’t so happy now and I don’t know why. Also, there’s no strawberries on them, and that’s just a crime. If Ash planted a boring shrubbery just to get me to wait for the berries… that’s just rude!
Designation: Ashen Grey of Hive Noctillus
Good to hear you survived, Nimbus. I hadn’t intended to leave your affairs in such a state in Las Pegasus, and am grateful for your assistance. I’m not entirely sure what you mean by “pay up,” however. Shall Strawberry Sunrise pay herself? Your eloquence is as stunning as ever.
Speaking of, Strawberry Sunrise absolutely loved “Ancient Medicinal Uses for Non-Equine Cadavers.” I doubt this is the route you’d like to go for her check-out history, however. She promptly returned the books with corpses as their primary topic, along with the ones you selected from the Adult Pony section. I have selected a few mild romance novels and a mystery to read. They are due in two weeks.
Your signature on the library card is atrocious. I can only hope that it becomes easier to replicate over time. The librarian would’ve been suspicious if she didn’t have her own nose in a book while I was there.
I like the idea of Strawberry Sunrise running a booth in the Market. It would give ponies a reason to rationalize her income. None of her neighbors have asked many questions, but I would much rather have an answer if one happens to ask what it is we do for a living.
The word you are looking for is “amphibious,” Scout, and, while I’m at it, “designation.” Regarding my moniker, my first training mission as a grub was to take the cover of a previously existing pony. I was barely a nymph, and the foal I chose was named Ashen Grey. My second mission was to dispose of him, if you are curious, and my third was to keep the parents from noticing. A child receives a great deal of love, and Ashen Grey was no exception. It was almost a pity that I’d drained them within a few months. It was the first time I’d never been hungry, and I haven’t felt the same since.
Designation: Nimbus of Hive Hurricane
Birds don’t fly that high, no. Higher than trees? Yes. Higher than clouds in the Frozen North? No, too cold, and winds too fast. Hive Hurricane mostly eats plants, cultivated from cloud seeds, like the pegasi in Cloudsdale, so yes, gardening is easy.
Strawberry plants are dying because the rainy season is done, and they require watering. Simple fix. Changeling corpse is providing adequate fertilizer; the vines are turning rather bush-like. Unusual for the species. Strawberry Sunrise appears to be living up to her name, growing delicious berries. Look closely. There are buds forming! Soon there will be flowers, and from there, fruit!
Would like a favor, Scout. Please schedule acupuncture at salon for Ash’s visit. Ensure area near shoulders is focused upon: wing joints are sensitive to those of his Hive, even when shapeshifted. To Ash - you know what I like. Keep up the resistance, and I shall have Scout sign you up for their all-day steam package next. Good for Strawberry’s fur, yes? Pity it feels like a hot summer’s day.
Strawberry Sunrise gardened, for the most part. Pinkie Pie visited, as did Rarity. One brought cupcakes (a variety of various strawberry and cinnamon combination cupcakes. Some were better than others) and the other brought a lovely dress to thank Strawberry (Scout) for helping with the heavy lifting. Did try on to make certain fit was correct, but left it in the closet afterwards for Scout to try on. Figured it was only fair.
Applejack - pony who runs the apple stall - brought over strawberry samples from a family’s farm. Different types, in case we wish to run that stall. All tasted too syrup-sweet to me, but the texture was pleasantly fleshy, like mistleaf salad (Scout - it tastes of high skies, like ozone and dew. Texture is like cross between strawberries and lettuce. Would recommend you try some; will leave some in fridge! Ash, try some too. Good for you.)
Saved some strawberries in fridge for Scout to sample as well. Has the best taste for sweet things out of all of us. Additionally, have yet to hear your opinion on the strawberry Market stall idea, Scout.
Discombobulation: Scout of the Golden Coast
Mum seemed worried the last time I talked to her. She barely paid attention during my report. Did we do something wrong? We’re keeping up the cover, right? Nothing weird has happened with these ponies so far. I mean, aside from that one night, but Mum didn’t even look worried about weird new Princesses when I told her about that one dark one. What are we supposed to be watching for, anyway?
I heard there’s a Gala coming up. I don’t want to buy tickets. Which one of us would even wear the dress? I don’t know how to dance!
I’m okay with the Market stall idea. I’ll be real, though, I don’t know anything about pricing stuff, so one of you might want to make me a cheat sheet. Or, hey, put up a price sign so I can just read off of it! Strawberry Sunrise is already weird enough, right? What’s a little forgetting-your-own-sales-pitch now and again?
Put some new stickers on the front of the journal! Most of the old ones had worn off, but they were kinda fun. Feel free to add some of your own!
Appointment scheduled. The spa pony looked at me kinda funny. At least I’m not the one getting my acu’s punctured.
The strawberries are all delicious, and I don’t know which one was my favorite! I like how you describe flavors, Nimbus, though I’ve got no clue why you don’t like Strawberries. I mean, it’s in our name!
I left some dried seaweed and some crispy sand crabs in the fridge. (Before you say “Ponies don’t eat sand crabs” in more complicated sentences, Ash, I put ‘em towards the back, in case you’d like to try them!) The mistleaf tasted like nothing at all, but an okay nothing.
Do I look like a ‘ling that reads for fun, Ash? Actually, I have to suffer through the vocabulary lesson that is your entries. Don’t answer that. Feel free to keep suggesting homework, though. I’m sure Nimbus will be happy to do it for me! Only one of us needs to turn it in, right? She’s a group project, after all!
Also, ugh, you’re such a spoilsport, using big words correctly. Maybe I like getting mixed up! Maybe I like not having a dictionary shoved so far up my butt I’m not spitting out definitions everywhere! It’s never too late to try to be a fun best-Strawberry like me, you know! Here, I’ll help you. Knock, knock!
Designation: Ashen Grey of Hive Noctillus
Firstly, you’ve made your point, Nimbus. It will take most of the flight home to get the kinks out of my true wings, thanks to you. At least my cover’s wings felt well enough to make a rather achy day trip to the Weather Factory, despite the… abnormal weather on the way (did either of you feel as though the clouds were particularly sticky and… pink?) Enclosed in the envelope underneath the mattress, you’ll find the data I collected on Cloudsdale lightning rods and current funneling.
Returning back to Ponyville seemed to be the trickiest part, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. Strangely chaotic anomalies aside, most of the inhabitants of Ponyville are none the worse for wear. I’m uncertain if it’s even necessary to report an occurrence at that scale, but it may be worth noting that the epicenter certainly felt like Ponyville. Perhaps it’s a coincidence? Trouble seems to follow that new librarian around, though she’s got her head in a book enough to avoid half of it due to lack of observation.
I understand your Queen is upset, Scout, and I’m sorry for any distress it may cause. A Queen’s pain is her Hive’s pain, as they say. Know that Hive Noctillus is doing all that it can to aid your Hive during this time, and if there’s anything Nimbus or I can do to assist you, personally, please do not hesitate to ask. We’ll make the signs for the Market stall pleasantly easy to read, alright?
I apologize if my use of language is difficult to parse. We of the night forest spend much of our free time presenting riddles in the dark to each other. They are whispered back and forth, clever wordplay and phrases that delight the senses. It is not every Hive’s way, but it is ours, and we are fond of it. I’m not nearly as young as you seem, Scout, and I’ve bested many in verbal puzzles.
Aside from the partially-unplanned trip to Cloudsdale, not much happened outside of the ordinary. It was business as usual: returned library books, watched the librarian have her regularly-scheduled nervous breakdown, checked out new books. I’ve found watering the plants brings me a little bit of calm, inside. I do not have to fake my contentment nearly as much when I’m tending to them.
The mistleaf tasted like if air could be a disappointment. Thank you for the sand crabs, Scout. They were predominantly crunchy, with the bare bones of flavor as an afterthought. I have left you each some roasted sparrow, tucked behind the ice cubes in the freezer.
Very well, Scout, I shall take the bait. Who’s there?
Designation: Nimbus of Hive Hurricane
A pleasure, Ash, as always.
Strange sweetness wound and twisted through the very clouds of our Hive, and sugared brown milk rained from the walls and tunnels within our storm fortress. Slightly ashamed of the eagerness I felt to arrive in Ponyville and simply wash it all away, out of the frills my antenna (as you are built for the sea, Scout, I am built for the sky), off of the down surrounding my joints (an adaptation to protect against the cold), and unclogging the holes in my legs and wings. The rest of my Hive is still at work, sticky as a bee caught in its own honey. Such a terrible mess, all around.
We are here for you, Scout, and our Hives are prepared to fly at a moment’s notice. Allies first, and unlikely friends close behind that. If we can be of assistance or comfort, you need but say the word.
The flowers have opened, and bees are humming away. Not going to eat them, but the thought crossed my mind. Specifically, a memory that isn’t mine, but journaled. Wonder what it would be like if Strawberry Sunrise were one single pony. Trying to imagine it. “Watched a bee roll in my strawberry flower. Did not taste of strawberry, only insect, and pain. Strawberry flower does not make the strawberry bee. Must wait for fruit, and bees are not it!”
Might not be accurate. Might sound more like Scout, or more like Ash. Likely, Strawberry sounds like none of us. We are Strawberry, but Strawberry is not us. She is both more and less than the sum of us.
Spoke to the Mayor of Ponyville about an additional Market stall. Potential spot available. Had a few informal meetings with the Apple family to secure strawberry shipment. Won’t make a massive profit, but would be enough to live a modest life. Strawberry is peculiar at times, but not extravagant. Strawberry in glass orb on the mantelpiece is the most gaudy thing she owns. Fits in with most of Ponyville in more than one respect. Plan is sound.
Also, discovered pancakes. Goes better with strawberries than apples, but don’t tell the farmer ponies that. Would probably not approve!
Strawberries are soft and juicy, yet they carry too much flavor in their juice. Closest thing Hive Hurricane has are cloudberries, much lighter, much crisper. Most things taste of air, but air tastes different when you live in it. The seaweed tasted delicate and smooth, of the air coming from the sea. Barely touched the sparrow for fear of digestion problems, but it was flaky and earthy. It too, tastes of the sky, or of a creature who filled its soul with it.
Would like to know, Scout: do you have fins where I have fern-like antenna? Can you fly, or are there flippers instead? Suspect you lack fur entirely, as most changelings do. Ash, you live in the woods, at night. Do you camouflage into trees? Do your eyes glow strange colors?
Demolition: Scout of the Golden Coast
Mum seemed like she was in a better mood this time. The weird weather didn’t do much underwater, though some parts were frozen off, and the surface tasted of soap. Much of our Hive is burrowed underneath the islands, with air pockets and their own separate lakes, so we weathered the chaos. Most of my siblings are out of the water, trying to clear the remaining soap.
Mum said the swamplings suffered way more during the storm. Probably as much as your Hive did, Nimbus. Sorry to hear about that! At least you all tasted delicious. Those swamp bugs must’ve taken the brunt of the strange weather. I heard a lot of the biting bugs grew larger and stampeded! That sounds really weird, but hey, if clouds turned sticky and water turned soapy, maybe the swamp swallowed the Hive that’s threatened my Mum and my family. It was a day of strange happenings, for sure!
Strawberry Sunrise sure doesn’t sound like me! She can’t be as fun as I am, because she’s a pegasus! Sure, she can fly, but she can’t turn into a fly, right?
I wasn’t really sure about it at first, but I think the strawberry Market stall is going to be a great hit! The Apple family helped me build the stall today! It was a lot of hard work. I said I’d put up the sign later, because I still had to paint it and figure out my prices, so one of you can get that put up!
The strawberry plants have grown so huge! Some of the flower petals have started falling off, but that means the fruit’s about to grow, isn’t it? I can’t wait to taste the strawberries I helped grow… by, uh, killing Strawberry the First for plant food!
Speaking of food, I can’t wait to try pancakes! The sparrow was pretty alright, Ash. It’s got nothing on fish, though!
I do too have wings, Nimbus! I can fly just fine! But yeah, my tail’s really strong so I can swim faster, and the frill on my neck helps me steer and swim straight! I bet Ash is just… a tree changeling. Treeling. Or a bat! Something spooky that lives in the forest at night.
Oh yeah, and Ash: “Sea Kelp!”
Designation: Ashen Grey of Hive Noctillus
The sign has been completed. The prices are set, at three strawberries per bit! I am told they are the finest strawberries the Apple family had to offer, and will let Scout determine the truth of their claim. I then began selling strawberries, to ensure our small business launched without issue.
I was expecting a few ponies, maybe a trickle, as other fruit sellers had, up until now, been selling their own strawberries at a comparable rate. To say that I was unprepared for the flocks of ponies stopping at our little stall would be quite an understatement! I hadn’t realized that, between the three of us and the power of word-of-mouth from our combined friends, we’d gathered quite the group of eager supporters! I was very nearly flustered from the sheer amount of “hello’s” and “what LOVELY berries!” and “gorgeous day to be out at the Market, eh?” casually called my way. Even the other stalls took their breaks to stop by and introduce themselves and support our little business!
Needless to say, we completely sold out of strawberries in about three hours! It may be slightly preemptive on my part, but I declare our strawberry Market stall a resounding success! I can only hope our future luck shall continue.
Our own strawberries are slowly ripening. It’s no small wonder to see them take shape, even if I don’t care for the taste as much as Scout might. Why, in theory we could sell our own, and add Ponyville-grown strawberries to the stall! It wouldn’t bring in much, as we’re far from a specialized orchard, but I think it would be worth it.
Now, to answer both of your presumptuous inquiries… No, I’m not a treeling, no, I do not camouflage into trees, no, my eyes do not glow strange colors in the dark, and no, I am not a bat. Your guess was the closest, Nimbus, in how my Hive adapts ourselves. We emulate owls the closest, I believe; while other changelings buzz as they fly, their hum tuned for stealthy communication that’s different for each Hive, Hive Noctillus flies completely silently. We blend, not into the bark of the trees, but of the canopy and clouded night skies above. Our chitin is mottled and dull, but it does not reflect light like the shine of so many others’ do.
My Hive, thankfully enough, was more than prepared to take on the dangers of the strange discordant energy surge. We were not swarmed by biting insects, and for that I am grateful, but we were fairly well-stampeded by rabbits of all things. Our own prey, out to get revenge, or so we thought! Fortunately, we quickly learned that long-legged rabbits taste just as delicious as normal rabbits, and are only the slightest bit faster.
I admit, I am intrigued as well about these “pancakes.” I did, however, purchase an apple for consumption, and I find them delightfully crisp. If we decided to change our name to Apple Sunrise, and pretended our cutie marks were merely oddly deformed apples, I don’t think I could complain. Still, there’s a special place in my heart for the strawberries. Perhaps it is because I’ve helped grow them.
Cannot wait for you to see the sign. You’ll love it! I’ve even painted small images on the back for reference purposes! Enjoy your “homework,” Scout!
I dread the punchline, but I suppose it is inevitable at this point. “Sea kelp, who?”
Designation: Nimbus of Hive Hurricane
Ponies are still purchasing strawberries. Was concerned that the novelty would wear off, but no, strawberries are still in demand! Am considering learning to make jam, to sell when the harvest ends. Would love both of your inputs on the matter.
Local shops stopped selling strawberries. Change was to be expected, certainly, and they seem to bear no ill will towards Strawberry Sunrise. Indeed, they no longer compete with each other over strawberries, and a few confided in me that they’d been looking to specialize regardless, and we were the push they needed! It is a small victory, but I can taste their friendliness.
Looking forward to the strawberries ripening fully. Some of the largest ones are starting to blush! Won’t be long now!
On to more serious topics. News is spreading of a threat in Canterlot. Worse, a familiar one. My Queen has grown concerned. Thoughts have begun to spread, lightning-fast through the Hive: should we go into hiding? Hive Hurricane does not have many love-gatherers; we would surely starve, but what else can we do? Should ponykind become aware of our existence… you and I know, Ash, the dangers it can bring.
Even the smallest information breach can have a terrible effect. I need not remind you of Las Pegasus again, no? Do not blame yourself. It was not your fault, but we must do what little we can to avoid it.
Hoping your Hive clears the soap soon, Scout. We have finally gotten the last of the sweet-spun sugar from the clouds, and the quickly-spoiling milk has been shaken free from the storm. Cannot imagine what it must be like, to breath in a lung-ful (gill-ful, perhaps) of soap.
Librarian is gone. Was told by my Queen to make a note of this. Strange things happen, and the new librarian is gone. Could be coincidence - I never seem to be in Ponyville when odd things happen either.
Sign was helpful, Ash. Bits-to-assorted-snacks-from-other-merchants conversion chart interesting, but possibly unbalanced. Was “one strawberry for two buckets of grapes” intentional? Few ponies outside of us would claim that as an even trade!
Designation: Nimbus of Hive Hurricane
Strange. Did not receive signal from Scout, nor any messages forwarded from her Hive to mine for when we should complete the exchange.
Went into the woods at estimated average time, but no Scout to be found.
Will continue to wait. Perhaps a Hive… emergency?
Selling strawberries and being Strawberry in the meantime.
… On second thought, sending message to Hive Hurricane. Priority. Requested scout team (amusing!) to check on Scout status, and Golden Coast Hive in general.
Nimbus, Hive Hurricane. Don’t feel much like protocol. Two weeks past Scout’s regular exchange date.
Things have gotten worse in Canterlot. Felt a pulse, at one point. Tasted iron, copper, metal in my soul. Everything’s changed. Everything’s waiting, though what has happened is likely long over.
No word from Golden Coast, scouting party returned with nothing. Hive Hurricane changelings cannot swim.
Strawberries… beginning to rot on our plants. Hoped to show her. Will need to trim off the spoiled fruit, to avoid attracting unpleasant insects.
Had a terrible thought the other day. Checked the yard thoroughly. Thankfully, no new suspicious strawberry plants.
… No word from Golden Coast at all.
Hive have mercy. Upcoming conversation will not be pleasant. Fortifying the house, set sign on Market stall saying we will be closed.
Deep breath in, out. Rereading the diary. First message she’d written. “Don’t get sentimental.” Wish she’d never said it. Don’t regret becoming her friend, though. Wished I met her.
...
No sense delaying it any longer, Nimbus.
Sending high priority message to Hive Noctillus.
Ash, my old friend, where do we go from here?
Designation: Ash of Hive Noctillus
I…
I can’t. She was just a… barely more than a nymph, surely…
I’m barely keeping it together as it is. When Nimbus called me to meet them, with a last-minute disguise and all (Ashen Grey has grown up, hasn’t he? Few ponies would recognize him. I figured it’d be safe enough), I already knew what had happened. I still fought against Nimbus with all my strength, the earth tearing at the sky itself, for them to be lying, for both of us to be wrong, but after my rage cooled, we pieced together what had happened.
The Golden Coast had taken over too many cover stories, too many infiltrators and love-gatherers and positions of power from Mire Hive. Normally, that wouldn’t be more than a nuisance, a minor challenge at best, and it’d be a risk worth taking to keep a weaker Hive alive. A seasoned queen wouldn’t have cared much at all, but Queen Miasma had only recently ascended to the throne. Young Queens run the risk of acting with their heart over their Hives, and in the end it had cost her both.
No changeling nor pony bore witness to the battle. All we know is that no changeling corpses have washed ashore, and no survivors rescued, from either Hive. The islands are covered with wind-scattered ashes, the submerged stone cracked.
I couldn’t bring myself to mourn for the loss of two Hives. Not when I’d yet to cry over the stubborn, sassy nymph who’d dreamt of strawberries and sunshine and sand crabs and pancakes.
Sea kelp who, Scout? Sea kelp-
Oh. That’s where you were going with it, isn’t it? You most likely intended some form of friendly ribbing, something about my sense of humor, or perhaps my language usage. Witty until the end.
I wish I could share the news with you, if only to be able to reassure you that we will survive, and, in doing so, reassure myself. The world’s changed. It’s grown more dangerous overnight, and with each passing day, the risk of discovery grows greater. The rumor is that some fool of a Queen’s revealed our existence to ponykind. Whether or not that is true, of course, remains to be seen.
The strawberries have come and gone, Scout. Your final joke is nothing more than a somber echo in my head. I cannot stop thinking about it. Though I doubt you intended it, it’s almost as though you are giving me advice, urging me to take action, to do something about the mess our kind has made for ourselves.
Sea kelp.
Seek help.
Very well, Scout. It’s worth a shot. Seek help I shall, though perhaps not in the jesting manner of your original punchline.
I will reach out to other Hives, and will ask Nimbus to do the same. Strawberry Sunrise must stay alive to avoid suspicion, and the strange librarian of Ponyville must be watched. More infiltrator positions need to be doubled-upon, hopefully even moreso, in case something should happen to the original. We need answers, and we cannot get them alone.
We also cannot continue to fight between ourselves if we wish to survive as a species, but I recognize some infighting is inevitable. Still… if Hives of the sky, the earth, and the sea can find some common ground over strawberries, I’m certain any differences can be overcome with enough effort on all sides.
It has the chance to work. I am hopeful that my Queen will agree, but I’m not certain, at this point, what other options we have. If we pull back, we starve, but we cannot risk either an attack or a plea for truce without frightening ponies. Not any time soon, at least.
Journals such as this one… they are a risk, yes, even with the correct spells put into place to hide it from the common pony’s curious gaze, but I believe they could work for other infiltrators working together. It keeps the story consistent, updates other… other scouts, I suppose, on anything significant between Hives and ponies alike. The records of the past are also quite useful.
It’s one way you’ll live on, as a part of Strawberry Sunrise. The best part, as you’d say.
You weren’t wrong.
Designation: Ash of Hive Noctillus
If you’re reading this (and if it is not just you, Nimbus, old friend), you’ve been sent by your Hive to become the next Strawberry Sunrise. I’m certain you’ve been briefed by those with authority regarding how to proceed, but I’d appreciate it if you’d leave a message for me, or Nimbus, or whichever lucky ‘ling is next in line. Updates are vital to consistency, after all.
Today, Strawberry Sunrise sat on the edge of the fountain in the center of Ponyville, watching the smoke from Canterlot slowly clear. She thought about strawberries, the allies she’s made, and the friends she has yet to meet. Smiling, she walked to the market to open her stall. For her, it’s just another day.
For us, it’s the next step in an alliance between different Hives, another day of small happenings and listening harder than ever to what ponies say, and what they do not… another entry in the diary, if nothing else.
We look forward to reading what Strawberry does next.
