Outside the Reach of His Hooves

by applezombi

Rating: everyone
Tags: Drama, Ocellus, Thorax, Pharynx, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 5848

Last minute holiday cancellations lead Pharynx on a desperate flight to the School of Friendship

Pharynx is still coming to terms with all the changes, both to the Hive and to himself. While Thorax leads his people into the bright new future, Pharynx is desperately trying to keep the Hive safe.

Is it so wrong to worry about each and every member of his Hive family even while the rest of the Hive is buzzing over holiday festivities? Especially the one member of his Hive studying abroad at the School of Friendship?

Thank you to ninjadeadbeard for help with the cover art, and daOtterGuy for pre-reading.

Written for CitreneSkys for Jinglemas 2021

Published 2021-12-25 14:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-12-25 14:50:01 UTC

Overreacting

The nervous march of Pharynx’s hooves on stone provided a dissonant percussion to the carol Thorax was absently humming. Thorax’s wings buzzed as he flew about the tree, letting it swing gently from the pulley that held it up as he adorned it with useless colorful baubles. Pharynx spared them a glance; perhaps they could be filled with some sort of defensive weapon, an area denial substance like caustic slime or caltrops, then thrown like…

Pharynx blinked, then sighed, before returning to his pacing. He wasn’t supposed to think like that as much. He’d promised. It still irked, though; just like the rest of the so-called festive decorations adorning the stalactites and stalagmites of the cave home he shared with his brother. The bright greens and reds made him cranky.

Still, there was a petty sort of glee as he allowed the cadence of his hoofbeats to offset Thorax’s song. If he had to put up with this stupid pony holiday, he could at least be aggravating about it.

“She should have been home by now.” Pharynx called out, pausing in his pacing.

“Twenty-six,” Thorax said idly. Pharynx looked up at the suspended tree and growled at his brother.

“It’s true, though. She should have been here an hour ago.”

“Twenty-seven, now,” Thorax said, and gave a sigh of his own as he buzzed down to land next to Pharynx. “I know you’re worried. But you need to relax.”

“Worried?” Pharynx shoved Thorax away with a hoof. “I never said I was worried! Ocellus is the first changeling to live outside of the Hive since we changed. Having her out by herself is a strategic weakness and an ongoing security threat! Any number of enemies could hurt Ocellus, or kidnap her and force us to…”

“Pharynx,” Thorax held out a hoof to his brother. “It’s okay to be worried about her. I am too.”

“I told you, I’m not…”

“Do we need to have another conversation about the strategic value of being diplomatically close to other races? About the security that comes with having Ocellus and her connections to the dragons, the griffons, the hippogriffs, and the yaks?”

“No.”

“Well then, I don’t think this nervousness is really about Ocellus’ exposure as a strategic weakness, is it?” Thorax said triumphantly. “Just admit you’re worried, and then come help me decorate the tree.” He smiled. “If it helps, half of these glass balls are filled with a quick-acting knockout gas I got from one of Starlight’s alchemist friends. The blue ones.”

“Really?” Pharynx perked up.

“It’s Hearth’s Warming, Pharynx. Think of it as one of my gifts to you.”

Pharynx opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I… I didn’t get you anything.”

“You keep all of my changelings safe,” Thorax said, and before Pharynx could protest he was pulled into a hug. It was mercifully quick, though Pharynx still had to check to make sure no one else was watching. Who would be, in their own private family home? But Pharynx still felt the flash of embarrassment. “That’s all the gift I need.”

It wasn’t often that Thorax spoke possessively of their people. Usually only in private, between the two of them. But Pharynx knew just how much Thorax cared for all of them.

Still, though, he had an image to maintain. Even in private. “Whatever. You said it, so now you can’t get mad when I don’t have a present for you. You know, if…”

A flash of green fire lit up the room. For a moment, Pharynx thought that perhaps Thorax had transformed into something, though he couldn’t begin to imagine why. But then a scroll appeared in the air in front of Thorax, bound in a ribbon and complete with a wax seal. Thorax picked it up.

“The seal’s from Princess Twilight’s school,” he said, cracking the seal with a hoof. His eyes darted about as he scanned the paper. “It’s from the Princess, about Ocellus. She…”

“What?” Pharynx demanded impatiently. But Thorax read silently, his lips moving without noise. Finally, he wordlessly handed the letter to Pharynx.

Pharynx stared at the graceful, precise script on the page. His brow furrowed as he read, his expression darkening with each word. Finally he crumpled the page and met eyes with his brother.

“I have to go get her.”

“Pharynx…”

“You read the letter! She’s being imprisoned! For a crime she didn’t commit!” Pharynx slammed a hoof on the floor. “It’s an act of aggression against the entire Hive! We must respond!”

“Don’t you think you’re…”

“I swear, Thorax, if you say I’m overreacting, I’ll chop down this ‘tree’ monstrosity and use it as target practice for the nymphs learning to puke resin.” If Pharynx was being honest with himself, he really was overreacting. Deliberately. Thorax was usually a good king, but sometimes he had to be shocked out of indecision. Pharynx didn’t mind using extreme behaviors to do it.

Thorax glared at him for a second, before a light came on behind his eyes. With a musing expression, he looked up at the tree, and with a deep, grating sound in his throat, hacked a sticky glob of resin at the trunk. The bright green goo oozed over the bark, a stark contrast with the brown.

“Hmm. Festive.” Thorax gave a small smile. “And now your threat has no fangs, Pharynx. Maybe it should be a new tradition! I’ll let the nymphs know tomorrow.” He was always looking for new and different ways to celebrate the pony holiday.

“And you’re changing the subject. We have to mount a rescue for Ocellus.”

“You read the same letter I did, Pharynx. And I’ve never known Twilight Sparkle to prevaricate. I’m not sure Ocellus would be willing to come back with you.” Thorax wasn’t looking at his brother; his eyes were up at the tree above him. He tweaked the rope a few times, making the pulley jerk around and causing the tree to begin rotating, slowly. With his eyes narrowed, Thorax spat a few times until the trunk and roots were polka-dotted neon green.

“Why aren’t you angrier about this? A changeling has been kidnapped, imprisoned for something she didn’t do, and you’re just…” Pharynx’s hoof waved at the tree. “…decorating!”

“If you absolutely have to go, I won’t stop you, Pharynx,” Thorax still wasn’t looking at him, focusing casually on his handiwork as the ooze slowly dripped off the tree onto the stone floor. “I’m going to need a pair of promises from you before you go, though. Sworn on the egg that bore you.”

That made Pharynx hesitate. He’d been ready to spring off the floor, his wings twitching. But despite Thorax’s casual mien, the oath he asked for betrayed how serious he was.

“What promises?”

“I think you’re overreacting, and that Ocellus is fine. I think she stayed by choice, just like Twilight said. And I think you’ll get there and she’ll tell you the same thing. So I want you to promise that if she says all that, you come home. You don’t force her to come back.”

“I promise,” Pharynx said. That was easy.

“And for the second, I want you to promise to keep a low profile. I’d rather not cause an international incident just because you refuse to believe in the goodwill of other creatures.”

“What if I’m right?” Pharynx’s wings were already buzzing. He was ready to leave. Immediately.

“You’re welcome to rescue her.” There was something aggravating about Thorax’s quiet confidence. At the same time, though, Pharynx wanted his brother to be right.

“Fine. I promise.”

Through the Cold Skies

The skies were bright and mostly clear. Pharynx wasn’t sure if it was an ominous signal or not; usually there’d be at least a few pegasi flitting about, but it was early enough that they were probably at home, opening Hearth’s Warming presents or sharing breakfast with their family. There was nopony about to see the turquoise pegasus with a blue and black mane flying over their farms and homes.

But the trip from the Badlands to Ponyville was long and lonely. Even in pegasus form, with their superior wing stamina and staying power, he had to take a break about an hour’s flight southwest of the growing little town.

Pharynx found one of the few clouds dotting the skies, slowing his wingbeats enough to land gently on the fluff. Cloud walking really was the best part of taking a pegasus form. There was something about the vantage point that he really enjoyed; while staying relatively hidden from those below, a changeling in disguise could spot threats from above, miles away.

The vantage point made him feel safe enough to rest, so Pharynx relaxed into the cloud, entering into the half-aware, half-doze that all changelings were taught as nymphs. It was a good way to get some shallow rest when on a solo mission.

Not that there was much need for infiltration missions any longer.

As Pharynx tried to quiet his agitated mind so he could rest, though, he couldn’t help but remember his last solo mission for the Hive.

“Going out again?”

The cold, imperious voice behind him echoed off the cave walls and made Pharynx pause, barely suppressing a shiver as he set his saddlebags on his back and turned slowly.

In the green glow of the Hive’s light, his Queen stood, staring down at him under arched brows.

“If you allow it, my Queen,” he bowed low.

She huffed. “If you insist. You know what you’ll find, though. Or what you won’t find.”

“He’s not dead, Your Majesty.”

“You seem so sure,” a vulpine grin split her muzzle, but it didn’t touch the hostility in her eyes. “Well, good news for you. I also know he’s not dead. I would have felt it.”

“Then…”

“There are reasons other than death for his absence, drone. Cowardice. Treason.”

“Thorax would never…!”

“You don’t know as much about Thorax as you think you do, drone.”

“I am aware that Thorax can be… unconventional sometimes, but he is an asset to the Hive. After our…” he paused, and Queen Chrysalis glared at him. He gulped. “…setback at Canterlot, we can’t afford to leave resources behind.”

The queen leaned down, slowly, her horn glinting in the light and her eyes narrowed. “I am not stupid, drone. Nor am I easily deceived. Would you like to try again?”

“He’s my brother, Your Majesty.” Pharynx felt his heart sink. There was no way she’d let him go now.

“So it’s sentiment,” Queen Chrysalis stood back up, rolling her eyes. “Weak. Idiotic.”

“B-but I’m not wrong. He thinks outside the box, looks for unconventional solutions to insurmountable problems. Thorax is…”

“I’m tired of your arguing, drone. I already said you could go.” The Queen seemed tired. “Only the training of the nymphs has to resume soon. I had hoped you would return to your old duties. But if you’re too busy searching the countryside for your brother, I suppose I could step in and take care of things.”

“Y-you, Your Majesty?”

“I have been known to train the young, now and then,” the Queen huffed. “Perhaps the survival rate is not as good as yours, but I can assure you the drones my methods produce are far hardier and elite than the drivel you’ve been churning out.” She turned, her hoofsteps echoing menacingly in the stunned silence that followed.

“Wait!” Pharynx desperately called, as he shrugged out of his saddlebags. “Wait. I… I’ll stay. I’ll return to my post, Your Majesty.”

“Good. No more wasting your time searching for a traitor. I’ll expect you to take charge of tomorrow’s class, first thing in the morning.” Her tail swished angrily as she left, not even bothering to look behind her.

Pharynx was left behind in the small round cave that made up his and Thorax’s room. He glared at his brother’s nest, empty and gathering dust. He hadn’t seen or heard anything of Thorax since the invasion. He walked over, kicking at the pile of rags and fluff that made up Thorax’s sleeping pile. A wave of dust puffed up, and Pharynx turned away before he had to breathe it in.

It was then that he heard a delicate cough behind him. Then another. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the room until he found a particular stalactite that hadn’t been there before. Silently Pharynx cursed his inattention. He should have noticed long before, when he came in to pack. He was getting sloppy and distracted. He faced the offending stalactite, staring at it patiently.

For a few moments nothing happened. Pharynx sighed, then picked up a bundle of the dusty cloth with his magic and hurled it at the stalactite.

The stalactite let out a terrified yelp and tumbled to the floor in a clatter of stone, before igniting with green changeling fire. Pharynx was ready to pounce, until he saw the tiny nymph who had been spying on him.

“Ocellus.” He kept his voice blank and even, though inwardly he was quite proud. He’d never known she was there. And from what he could tell, neither did the Queen. She was something special.

Not that he’d say anything.

“U-um. Y-yeah, it’s m-me,” she stammered, shrinking against the floor as he stepped forward. “S-sorry.”

“You’re in my room, Ocellus.”

“Uh… yep, I am!”

“Why are you in my room, Ocellus?”

The little nymph was shaking. Pharynx sighed, and lowered himself to his stomach on the floor next to her. “Hey. Relax. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” Ocellus said. She didn’t stammer a bit. “I’m never afraid of you, Pharynx.”

He had to stop himself from scowling at that. What about all the yelling during training? He was the hardest drill sergeant the Hive had, besides Queen Chrysalis herself. He was supposed to be intimidating.

Something must have shown on his face, because Ocellus giggled, taking a step or two forward to wrap her tiny hooves around his muzzle in an awkward sort of hug. He let it happen for three seconds before shoving her off and standing to his hooves.

“You didn’t answer me. Why are you in my room, Ocellus?”

She shuffled her hooves, looking down.

“I miss Thorax.”

He snorted, deliberately not looking at his brother’s nest. “Weak. Sentiment is worthless.”

“But…”

“Nymph!” he shouted, and she instinctively snapped to attention, her tiny hooves jerking stiff and upright. “What is the greatest strength of the Hive?”

“Adaptability, sir!” she called back the rote response.

He nodded. “Exactly. You can’t keep hanging on to Thorax. It’s time to adapt to his absence. Grow past him, and grow stronger.”

“But…”

“I don’t care if he makes you feel safe, Ocellus. It ‘s time to move on.”

“He doesn’t make me feel safe, Pharynx. Thorax makes me feel happy. And I miss him. But it’s you who make us all feel safe.”

Pharynx had no response for that.

“…ster pegasus? Hey, you, up there on the cloud?”

Pharynx blinked a few times, then inched over to the edge of the cloud and looked down at the pony that had broken him out of his half-asleep memory.

While he’d been resting, the cloud had drifted above a snow-draped farm. He could see an old earth pony stallion looking up at him, his coal-grey hoof at his mouth as he called out.

“Yeah, you, mister pegasus. Come on down, won’t ya?”

He was dressed like a farmer, with a worn but clean wide brimmed hat that shaded his eyes as he looked up. A wool scarf was wrapped around his neck. Pharynx looked, but he didn’t see any other ponies.

It was probably safe.

Pharynx lifted off the cloud and beat his wings slowly, just enough to float gently to the ground in front of the farmer.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. The cloud must have drifted while I napped.”

“Nothing ta worry about, young stallion,” the farmer waved a hoof. “The name’s Beetroot.” He held out a hoof, and Pharynx shook it.

“I’m called Pharynx.” Thorax had said he had to keep a low profile, and go in pony form. He didn’t say anything about lying or fake names.

“Huh. That’s a funny handle.” Beetroot shrugged. “Anywho, I spotted ya on that there cloud and thought I’d call ya and make sure everything’s okay. It’s Hearth’s Warming Day, after all.” He narrowed his eyes, then plowed forward with the boldness of age. “Ya got somewhere to be for the feast? Can’t stand the thought of somepony being alone on the holiday.”

“Even a stranger?” More pony sentiment. Didn’t they have security protocols?

Beetroot laughed. “There’s no such thing as a stranger, sonny. Just a friend I ain’t met yet.”

This is why speaking with ponies was sometimes so unsettling for Pharynx. Sure, they had their con artists and liars. But most of them were just like this old farmer.

“Thanks, I appreciate it, but no. I am on my way to see family. Kind of last minute thing.”

“Oh!” the farmer’s eyes lit up. “You probably mean that sweet little changeling at the Princess’ school. Ocellus, right?”

Pharynx stepped back, his wings spread nervously. But Beetroot just eyed him with a laugh.

“I may be a backcountry hick, son, but I ain't dumb. I know what it means when a pony’s named after a bug part. And when they forget to add a cutie mark to their disguise.”

Pharynx reared back, actually jerking a few feet into the air, hovering while he craned his neck to check. There was a cutie mark there, a grey storm cloud with wings. He glared back at the farmer, who was smirking.

“So, you are Ocellus’ kin. Well, it ain’t none of my business why you feel like you gotta hide. But when you see that little one o’ yours, wish her a happy Hearth’s Warmin’ for me, will ya’?”

“You… you’ve met Ocellus?”

“Oh sure,” the farmer waved a hoof. “Your kin’s a real sweetheart. All her friends are, really, even that cranky griffon. C’mon on to the cellar. I’ve got a barrel of cider that needs taste-testing.”

“Your family won’t miss you?”

“The grandfoals are busy playing with their new toys, and my own kids’re napping.” Beetroot turned and began walking towards the back of the farmhouse, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Pharynx landed and followed him.

The door to the root cellar was heavy oak, and Beetroot heaved it open with barely a strain of his muscles. It was a reminder of how strong ponies were. How much of a threat.

There was nothing stopping Pharynx from ignoring the invitation. This farmer didn’t know who he was. There would be no real harm done if Pharynx just turned and flew away. He’d rested all he needed to, after all.

He followed Beetroot into the cellar.

The simple cellar was lined with shelves, each one full of glass jars with preserves, canned peaches and apples and green beans. There was even a trio of wooden casks against the north wall. Beetroot approached them, licking his lips.

“This is what I was coming for when I spotted you. The missus gets annoyed if I touch any of the hard stuff before dinner, but somepony’s gotta make sure the cider tastes okay before the grownup party tonight, right?” He winked at Pharynx, and retrieved a tap and a pair of chipped ceramic mugs from a nearby shelf. He carefully inserted the tap into one of the three casks and filled both of the mugs.

“You won’t get in trouble?”

“She might give me a little grief,” Beetroot shrugged as he filled the mugs. “I’ll be fine. But you’re here to wet your throat, and to hear about your family, right?” He passed one of the mugs to Pharynx.

Pharynx waited until Beetroot took a long drink before sipping a little of his own. It was fruity and sweet, but the bite of alcohol dominated everything. Beetroot licked his lips then eyed the amber liquid. “Little stronger than I’d like. We’ll have to go slow.” He laughed again. “So. I didn’t realize Changelings celebrated Hearth’s Warming.”

“It’s pretty new to us,” Pharynx said. “The king likes the idea of it, but he wants to make our own traditions. I find it all a bit silly.” He didn’t know why he added the last bit; he barely knew this stallion.

“Silly’s fine, as long as the important bits are there,” Beetroot sat on the floor, leaning back to take another drink. “Family, friends, togetherness, all that stuff.”

“He made sure to keep those details,” Pharynx said. He felt impatient; he was still nervous about Ocellus. “You were going to tell me about Ocellus, though? About how she’s doing?”

“Everypony in Ponyville loves havin’ the school around, and not just for the business it brings,” Beetroot said. “Sure, there’s some chaos sometimes, but nothing we haven’t dealt with before. One o’ my own grandfoals, Celery Stick, is attending the school, and he says Ocellus is kind to everypony.” He paused, giving Pharynx an apologetic flinch. “Everycreature. There was even a time when Celery was supposed to foalsit his younger siblings, only one of his teachers was gonna make him stay late to retake a test or something. Ocellus stepped right up with no warnin’. That girl’s great with foals, lemme tell ya. A real natural.”

The story reminded Pharynx why he was here, though. “That’s why I’m here. Something happened and Ocellus and her friends got in trouble. They made them stay late over the holiday break.”

“So you flew down to check on her?” Beetroot said. Pharynx nodded. “Well, if she got in trouble I’m sure it weren’t no big deal.”

“But it wasn’t her. It was the griffon.” Pharynx couldn’t help but growl. “He sabotaged the tree and wouldn’t confess, so Twilight said they’d all have to stay until somebody admitted it. Only when he did confess, they punished Ocellus and her whole group of friends anyways.”

“Huh.” Beetroot said, motioning his hoof for Pharynx to go on. So he did, telling the whole story he’d gotten from the letter. “Sounds like your kin’s got a real loyal streak in her. Skipping the holidays to support a lonely creature? It’s just the sort of thing a good friend would do.”

“But I thought your holiday was about friendship and family. Not having to choose between the two.” He couldn’t help a little bitterness.

“That’s tough,” Beetroot nodded. “But maybe it was like this. Maybe Ocellus was smart enough to know who needed her more. Because she knew she had you and yours at home, to give her strength, she was able to help her friend.” He smirked again, before polishing off the last of his cider. “Or maybe she knew you well enough to know you’d come runnin’, and she could have both.”

Shelter from the Snow

“So, I hope we all learned a valuable lesson today about communication.” Sandbar’s saccharine pronouncement was met with a chorus of groans, as well as an avalanche of Hearth’s Warming detritus; Gallus and Smolder both rained crumpled wrapping paper down on him while he fended them off and laughed. “Hey! We’ll have to clean all that up again!”

“You sound like Professor Sparkle when you use your lecture voice, you know?” Gallus grumbled.

“At least it’s not slime!” Silverstream chimed in. “Wrapping paper is way easier to clean up than slime! It doesn’t even require a mop! Or industrial solvents!”

“Sure, rub it in,” Gallus complained good-naturedly.

“No, don’t rub it in! Yona just got the last of the slime out of her fur an hour ago!”

Ocellus watched the banter from a spot by the library’s wide window. Even though she didn’t feed the way she used to when she was younger, she could still feel the love in the room. It was like a fluffy pink cloud, bouncing around the room, floating between the friends, binding them together. Every affectionate nickname, every sarcastic quip, every well-meaning tease filled the room with lightness and beauty. She inhaled, resisting the urge to flick out her tongue to taste the beautiful sweetness of it all.

Outside it was snowing. It wasn’t a storm, just a slow, gentle fall of fluffy goodness. It reminded Ocellus of confectioner’s sugar, often a staple in Professor Pie’s lessons. Ocellus alternated between watching the snow and watching her friends.

The school’s courtyard would normally have been full with ponies capering about in the fresh fallen snow, but most of them would be home with their families now. Ocellus liked to watch them, too, but there was something quietly beautiful about the pristine, untouched scene. At least until a black cat padded his way across the snow, leaving a wake of tiny pawprints in the snow behind him.

Ocellus watched his progress with interest. Cats were fascinating to her; they always seemed to have a plan. There was always a dignified deliberateness to everything they did; they were in complete control of their surroundings.

The cat paused near one of the courtyard’s evergreen trees, leaping up to one of the low, needle-ridden branches, before casually beginning to lick the snowflakes from his fur. Once his eyes met hers, and they stared at each other as the snow drifted between them. Ocellus watched him a moment longer, until the sound of movement brought her attention back to the room.

“Ocellus, we were about to go find some after-lunch hot cocoa, if you…” Silverstream stopped, her eyes shooting wide open. “Ooh! Is that a kitty? And he’s all alone, out in the snow! I’ll bet he’s freezing his little paws off! I hope he’s not lost. Where is his owner?”

“No collar,” Ocellus noted, pointing at the cat. “But, um, Professor Fluttershy says we shouldn’t automatically assume a wild animal needs our help. I’ll go out and see if the kitty needs something, okay?”

“Ooh, yeah, you would be best at that, huh? You could even turn into a kitty! I’ll bet you’d be the cutest kitty ever!”

Ocellus felt her cheeks heating up. “Um, maybe, I don’t know. But I was going to go out as myself before trying any shape changing. Cats are sometimes nervous around other cats, and maybe as a changeling I can convince him I don’t mean any harm, first.”

“That sounds like a good plan. But bundle up, it’s cold out there!”

“Of course, Silverstream.” She had to go back to her room anyways. She made her way out of the library door, and down the hall towards the dorm.

In Ocellus’ own room, her saddlebags were still packed from when she’d been expecting to head home for the holiday. She stared at the bags for a moment; they were nearly brand new, a gift from Thorax when she’d started the semester.

It made her remember before. Saddlebags hadn’t been necessary before. No changeling needed saddlebags, because everything was the Hive’s, and the Queen’s. Personal ownership didn’t exist before. Even now it was odd to think of owning things for herself. It’s what made Hearth’s Warming gift-giving so important to her, now.

Ocellus opened up one side of her bags, to find the brightly-wrapped packages still where she’d left them yesterday. With a small smile she closed them again before sliding the bags over her back.

In the closet, Ocellus found a scarf (another personal gift, this one from Rarity) and a set of boots. If she got too cold, she could change into a bear or something. After a moment of thought, she also snagged a small blanket, in case the ‘kitty’ was cold, too. Then she slipped outside.

There was nopony about, just as Ocellus had seen from the window. In the distance towards the town, she could hear the joyful shouts and cries of ponies playing in the soft snow, but the school itself was quiet. Ocellus didn’t mind; it was the stillness of peace, of calm meditation and quiet sunrises. She couldn’t help but smile as she stepped out onto the snow, hearing the nearly imperceptible crunch as she moved over to the evergreen where the cat waited for her.

The black tom didn’t even look up at Ocellus as she ducked under the low branches of the tree, nestling into the bed of fallen needles underneath. She awkwardly crawled in, removing her saddlebags so she wouldn’t get stuck on the branches.

“You cold?” she asked. The cat ignored her, continuing to lick his paw. She shrugged, and pulled the small blanket out anyways, placing it on the ground next to him. “Well, it’s there if you need it. And you don’t need to play cool to impress me; I already look up to you.”

The cat turned to look at her, glaring at her with cat eyes long enough that Ocellus started to giggle. “Fine, if you want this conversation to be one-sided, I can manage.” She smiled, and slid the saddlebags over to him. “Your Hearth’s Warming presents are in the right side. King Thorax’s, too. Sorry, but I had Professor Twilight help me pick them out, so they’re books. I think you’ll appreciate them, though.”

He turned his nose up at the mention of books, before looking back at Ocellus again.

“You’ll have to be something other than a cat for the trip back, though. Because books are heavy.” The cat gave a sigh and slumped into the needles, and Ocellus laughed. “A few books should be nothing for a dragon, or a bugbear, or even a particularly athletic pegasus.

“I know ponies like presents to be a surprise, but you’ll probably wait until you get home to open them, so I’m telling you now.” Ocellus felt the little thrill of misbehavior, the nervous adrenaline of breaking the rules. “There’s two for you. Diplomacy by Haflinger, and The Way of the Intercepting Hoof, by Open Hoof. The first one is about using diplomacy to strengthen a country’s defensive position, while the second is a book on pony hoof-to-hoof combat. I thought you’d appreciate both.”

By now, the cat seemed more than interested, and he sat up to look at the saddlebag. There was an air of curiosity about him now, his nose wiggling as he pushed his nose under the saddlebag’s flap.

Ocellus giggled. “At least you could wait until you get home. It’s good to know that you’ll like your presents, though. It took a long time to figure out the right things to get you and King Thorax both.”

She reached over with one hoof and hugged the cat close to her. He made a small meow of protest, but didn’t struggle as she squeezed him tight. His fur tickled at her carapace, and he felt warm.

Warm and safe. Like he always did.

“Thank you for coming to check up on me. You didn’t need to, you know.”

He meowed again.

“I know you’re staying in the form to avoid an awkward conversation, but you’re here. So, you get an awkward conversation whether you like it or not.

“It’s really nice that you’re here, though. Did King Thorax make you take a disguise?” She laughed. “He doesn’t want you causing some kind of international incident coming to rescue me, right? It’s okay. But it does make me worried. You’re going to have to learn to trust others sometime, Pharynx.”

The cat meowed, sounding annoyed.

“It’s true. I know you’re worried. I was too, when I first came. I’m still worried, every day sometimes. I worry that ponies and other creatures won’t like me. I’m worried I’m too alien for them. I worry that I’ll say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing in some social situation and show to everycreature just how different I am. I’m worried that my friends will realize how stupid and worthless I am sometimes and just leave me behind.”

The cat hissed in fury.

“They won’t, really. Or are you angry about the stupid and worthless thing?” Ocellus began to idly pet the cat as she held him. “I don’t feel like that most of the time. But sometimes.” She let out a breath, misting the cold air. “Professor Fluttershy calls it ‘catastrophising’. She’s given us a lot of strategies for dealing with it. She’s really experienced, you know.

“But you know what strategy I like best? Professor Fluttershy taught us to remember a moment when we felt perfectly confident. When we felt strong and in charge. And to focus on that. I remember a time when I was a nymph. When one of my only friends had disappeared, and everything in the Hive seemed to be falling apart.

“And a really brave, strong changeling reminded me of our greatest strength. Right after he sacrificed something he wanted in order to keep us nymphs safe from Chrysalis. I carry that memory with me. It makes me strong.”

Ocellus sniffed, wiping her eyes with a hoof. “Did you know I never felt safe enough to cry, back in the before? We hid everything, because Chrysalis would pounce on even the hint of weakness.”

She was crying freely now, tears of joy and memory. It was a little absurd, so she laughed. “Sorry. I came out here to help you, not to cry at you.”

The cat meowed his confusion.

“It’s been difficult for you, hasn’t it? You work so hard to keep us safe, and yet the more we spread our wings and test our newfound independence, the harder it becomes, right? And now you’re worried that even though I was the first to go live outside the Hive, I won’t be the last.”

This time the cat just stared at Ocellus. The fear in his eyes was decidedly un-feline. But Ocellus grinned at him, sniffed, and nuzzled his face.

“It was a little obvious. I know how long it takes to fly from the Badlands to Ponyville. You got here pretty quick. Thank you.”

Ocellus didn’t even let go when the burst of green fire washed over him. When Pharynx spoke, his voice was raw.

“I don’t know if I can handle this,” he whispered. “What if others decide to leave, too?”

Ocellus did let go, now, looking at him straight in the eye. “Nymph!” she barked, barely able to keep a straight face as she made her best Pharynx impression. He narrowed his eyes. “What is the greatest strength of the Hive?”

“Adaptability, ma’am,” he rolled his eyes and played along.

“And you can adapt to this. Sure, it’s not going to be easy finding a way to keep your family safe when it starts spreading out. But I trust you. And I’m sure you’ll find a way to do it without having an overprotective meltdown.”

Pharynx let Ocellus hug him close again.

“I might have overreacted,” he admitted. “Sorry I didn’t get you any presents.”

“Sure you did,” Ocellus giggled. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Pharynx.”

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Ocellus.”