“Ow, my wing! Gallus, get off!”
“Your wing? Smolder’s wing is in my face!”
“Everycreature please calm down, we’re supposed to be cooperating!”
Ocellus didn’t know what friendship lesson Substitute Professor Discord had intended to teach them by trapping them all in a dark, too-small box, but she suspected it wasn’t working.
“... Hey Ocellus?” Sandbar’s voice near her ear sounded pleasantly quiet compared to all the yelling. “I think I’ve found something, but I’m not quite strong enough on my own. Can you help?”
Ocellus wriggled closer, privately glad that her own wings were safely tucked beneath her elytra where no one could step on them, and hesitantly waved a hoof around until it hit what felt like Sandbar’s foreknee. “Show me where.”
“Here.”
Sandbar’s hoof guided her own to the wall, and an abrupt shift in texture at just above head-height. The wall yielded, just slightly, to their push, though she could feel it spring back as she withdrew her hoof.
She wriggled closer yet, trying to get a better angle. “On three?” They were wedged in so close now that she could feel him nod. He counted down, and they both pushed.
It moved, more than could be explained by the sponginess of the material itself, but not quite enough.
“Wait, if I transform–”
“... I don’t think there’s room for a bear in here.”
She rolled her eyes and concentrated–that form seemed like the best option–and felt the change flow over her as her legs lengthened and strengthened and she grew in height and mass. “I do know what I’m doing,” she rumbled in a bass voice. “Again?”
“... Uh, sure.”
3, 2, 1, and this time there was more movement, enough to let them squeeze in even closer and put their shoulders to the wall. Enough to–
Sunlight.
“Hey! We’re free!” Sandbar called back inside, and Ocellus danced out of the way as the yelling abruptly stopped and the rest of their friends came tumbling out. At least no one looked too badly injured, in pride or anything else.
She didn’t see Substitute Professor Discord anywhere nearby, either, but that probably just meant he’d wandered off to bother the Headmare or Professor Fluttershy.
Probably.
Gallus fluffed up. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use a bath. Race ya to the lake?”
“You’re on!” Smolder wasted no time in launching herself into the air, and Yona and Silverstream followed only a breath behind.
“Ocellus?”
The focus she’d been gathering to transform dissipated, and she glanced at Sandbar, surprised. He hadn’t moved yet, and looked vaguely uncomfortable. It was … a bit odd, being taller than him while still in a pony form. “Yes? Good job getting us out of there.”
That provoked a flash of a smile. “I couldn’t have done it alone. Um, can I ask a weird question? Maybe an offensive one?”
She blinked. “Sure, of course.”
“... Why do you look and sound like a stallion?”
She briefly checked herself over. No, this form looked the same as always. “I needed to be stronger, but still pony-sized,” she said. “I haven’t used this particular transformation since training, but it seemed like the best option. Why, does it look weird?”
Sandbar scratched the back of his head, looking even more uncomfortable. “Not weird, exactly, but … wouldn’t you be more comfortable as a strong mare? So you don’t have to deal with–” he awkwardly made a somewhat obscene gesture.
“‘When not replacing somepony specific, it’s important to look just unique enough to catch somepony’s attention, but not so unique that you’ll be memorable when you leave’,” Ocellus quoted, half on automatic.
A chill ran through her, and she forced herself not to shiver. She hadn’t meant–she didn’t like to remember training, now that everything had changed. But that was the reason this form came to her so easily, and Sandbar had asked.
She concentrated and shifted again, tweaking her anatomy and lengthening her mane slightly. “Who do you think would have stood out more?” she asked, voice now slightly higher pitched. “My previous form or this one?”
“There are plenty of tall, strong mares too,” Sandbar insisted. “Wait, … replacing?”
Surely he knew. She didn’t like reminding ponies of how things used to be; everyling knew not to make too big a deal of it, lest the ponies start fearing that they hadn’t changed below the surface after all, but–he was her age, at least. He had to know.
But he was just standing there, looking puzzled, and suddenly her pony transformation felt like even more of a cage than the room they’d just left. She let it drop. “Sandbar, I’m a changeling.”
“I know that.”
She frowned. Shifted again. Shuddered at how familiar it felt, to be full of holes. To be not quite all there anymore.
At least she wasn’t hungry.
She hated remembering how hungry she’d been most of all.
She fluttered her wings, lifting off the ground a short distance, just enough to look down at her friend. “I’m a changeling.”
He wanted to back away. She could see it, in the way his muscles shifted, in the way he leaned away, and even though she’d been too young to join the invasion, even though those instincts were muted now, it was suddenly far too easy to remember that her kind had once called his kind ‘prey’.
… Where was the feelings forum when she needed it?
“I know,” Sandbar repeated, his words steadier than his legs, and it was enough to break Ocellus out of her memories. “... I guess I never really thought about what that meant, though. Sorry.”
Ocellus transformed back and settled to the ground again, tucking her wings away. “I was trying not to draw attention to it,” she admitted. “Sorry for scaring you.”
“I wasn’t–” she gave him a look. “Okay, yeah, I kind of was.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Ocellus stared out towards the lake. It was easier than looking at her friend, somehow.
“But you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” Sandbar finally said. “So, you shouldn’t have to force yourself to use forms that are uncomfortable. Right?”
She cast a glance at him. “Why do you think I’d be uncomfortable? Just because of …” she awkwardly tried to reproduce his obscene gesture.
“Well… yeah. I mean. I’d miss mine if they were gone.”
Ocellus giggled. “I’m a changeling,” she said. “We used to not have any, you know? Queen Chrysalis was the only one who could produce eggs, and Iiiiiiiii … was definitely too young to know how that worked, but I think it involved distilling the love we stole?” She waved a hoof. “And then we transformed and we’re all–different now. More pony-like in a lot of ways. It’s taken some getting used to.”
She shrugged. “But some of us–after we transformed, we had both.”
The more philosophically inclined in the hive were still debating why, she’d heard. Most changelings, their bodies seemed to match their preferred transformations, but there were just enough outliers to prompt debate.
Ocellus had never really cared what her anatomy felt like, so she supposed being like this made as much sense as anything.
“Oh. Huh.” Sandbar paused. “... Would you be happier if you were like that in pony form too, then?”
“Ponies don’t do that,” Ocellus said instantly. “... Do they?”
Sandbar shrugged.
“Being the only one like that would be weird.”
He smiled and nudged her. “You’re the only changeling here, anyway. Why hide it, if it would make you happy?”
Would it? Ocellus didn’t know. And thinking about finding out was scary.
But … it felt like it might be a good kind of scary.
“I’ll think about it,” she finally said. “Race you back to the others?”
Sandbar grinned. “You’re on.”
