Reshackled

-=Chapter 2=-

Shacklebolt awoke with a start, jolting upright. He held his chest with a hoof and gasped, panting heavily. The insectoid had blacked out on impact, and didn't remember anything afterwards. Now, he was on a small bank with not but his own tracks beside him, indicating that he'd somehow dragged himself out of the water.

"H-how did I get here?"

Shacklebolt blinked and looked around. It was still dark out, and he was still in the forest. He couldn't see the castle anymore, only a foggy river surrounded by endless trees. He looked up at the clear night sky filled with twinkling stars marred only by a thin streaking cloud.

"Wait a second..." He squinted and looked harder at the cloud. It was moving in an odd way. "That's no cloud. That's smoke!" He got up onto his hooves and shook himself dry. "And where there's smoke, there's fire. And where there's fire, there may be people!"

With renewed hope, Shacklebolt began his trek towards the base of the flowing pillar. Several minutes later, Shacklebolt spotted a campfire in a small, bare glen. Around the fire were several tents and, seated on the dirt ground, were four short ponies that resembled the statues in the castle perfectly.

Two of them were, as far as Shacklebolt was able to tell, normal ponies. Another one had a pair of wings on its back, and the last one had a spiral horn on its forehead. The four ponies were wearing clothing as well.

Shacklebolt ducked behind a nearby tree for a better look. The two normal ponies and the pegasus were eating bowls of savory-smelling stew while the unicorn read a book and mumbled to himself. Upon closer inspection, the ponies' clothing appeared to be leather armor.

The insectoid hid back under the foliage. "Those guys look like hunters. But that's stupid; why would ponies hunt? Maybe they're adventurers?" He looked back at the group and steeled his nerves. "It's talk to them, or keep wandering in these stupid woods."

Taking a gulp and ignoring the weight of fear in his chest trying to hold him back, Shacklebolt stepped through the brush and addressed the ponies. "Um, excuse me, sirs? Y-you are sirs, right?"

The four ponies' heads snapped up at the appearance of their new visitor. Their faces bore expressions of surprise at first before turning to heated aggression.

Shacklebolt felt something intangible hit his face like a wave of heat passing just under his skin. A tingling, prickling sensation permeated his front, causing him to flinch in confusion.

"It's a changeling!" the closer of the ponies said, "Grab him!"

Shacklebolt stepped back. "A what? Wait, what are you--"

Before he could react, the other normal pony was on his hooves and lunging forward. Without even thinking about it, Shacklebolt dodged his tackle. The pegasus was right after him, and tried to throw a punch with his forehoof. The insectoid blocked it with a flawless wax-off and countered with a reversal punch to the chest.

Jumping back, Shacklebolt's logical side of his mind realized what just happened. "H-hey! Why did you just attack me? And..." He caught the second pony mid-buck and flipped him sideways. "...HOW THE FUCK DID I DO THAT?!"

Another prickling sense in the back of his head warned him of a rear attack, and he bucked, striking the first pony in the face. He was about to turn around for a follow-up attack when his body froze in place, surrounded by a pale blue glow.

"Can't you idiots even handle one little bug?" the unicorn scolded. His horn glowed with the same pale blue light as the one now holding Shacklebolt in place.

Is this... magic? Shacklebolt rose into the air under the command of the unicorn's spell.

"I have him," the unicorn said, "Get the ropes and tie him up good."

One of the ponies chuckled darkly. "Hey, boys. Check out the hoof irons. I bet he broke out of some prison." The pony grinned sadistically. "This bug'll fetch us a nice bounty once we take him in."

Shacklebolt gasped and squirmed, but could not free himself of the magic binding him.

"Well, where'd you escape from?" the unicorn asked, "Tell us and we'll make this hurt as little as possible."

Shacklebolt gulped and looked fearfully at his captors. He felt a strange warmth welling in his horn. "A-a castle, way over--"

"Did he just say a castle?!" the pegasus yelped, "Guys, we just hit the jackpot!"

"Hey!" the unicorn suddenly snapped at Shacklebolt, "What do you think you're doing?!"

The so-called changeling was gritting his teeth and grunting as more energy collected in his horn. Suddenly, the blue aura around him turned green and moved all at once towards his head like a sheet being yanked off of him. It collected into a shining sphere that burned the tip of his horn. Unable to bear it any longer, Shacklebolt begged the burning to go away, and it complied immediately.

The sphere stretched into a beam that struck the unicorn dead on and sent him reeling back. Shacklebolt dropped to the ground and grabbed his head.

Get up. Run.

The changeling obeyed and scrambled to his hooves, then turned tail and ran, the other ponies hot on his trail. He ducked and weaved between trees and under branches, running as haphazardly as he could to lose his persuers.

When the sound of hoof falls behind him died down, he allowed himself a moment to rest, leaning back against a thick oak. For a few precious seconds, the only sound he heard was himself gasping for air after the hard run. He swallowed to wet his throat, and tried to calm himself down, but the adrenaline coursing through him left him shaking.

A familiar prickling sensation ran up his back, and before he could react to it, a heavy weight fell on him from behind and pinned him down. A hoof pressed on each of his legs, and he felt the warm underbelly of a large mammal on his back holding him down.

The pegasus from before panted and licked his lips. "Heh, you put up a good fight, you did," he said between breaths, "And here I thought your kind were supposed to be impossible to sneak up on."

Shacklebolt tried to struggle, but could barely move.

The pegasus noticed this and laughed. "Aww, what's the matter? Getting tired? Or maybe you're hungry." He leaned down and whispered into Shacklebolt's ear. "Why don't you just be a cute little mare for me, and I'll feed you some good love?"

Shacklebolt gasped silently and tensed up when he felt something brushing his flanks. He wasn't going to wait to find out what it was. Mustering all his strength, he slipped his hind legs forward and lurched his back up, then got on all four hooves and threw the violating stallion off himself.

He heard a rustle and a thud as the pegasus landed nearby, followed by a blood-curdling scream.

"NOOOOO!" the pegasus screamed, "Get it off! Get it off me! HELP!" The winged equine flailed madly in the undergrowth and scrambled to get away from the blue flowers he was rolling in.

Shacklebolt turned and climbed up the tree, then hid in its branches as he watched his enemy from above.

The bandit leapt out from the flower patch and ran, screaming bloody murder. Shacklebolt looked at the flowers, and felt a sickness in him like he'd swallowed a stone.

"Did I..." He bit his lip. "Did I just... kill him?" He sank down and clung to the branch he was on. "He wouldn't have screamed like that if those flowers weren't toxic. I... I can't believe I just did that..."

It was you or him.

"No. I could have just... I could have..." Shacklebolt couldn't think of an alternative. As much as he wanted to think there was a better way, he couldn't deny that his actions were in self defense.

He'd have just caught you again if you didn't stop him.

Shacklebolt lowered his head and sighed. "Yeah..." He looked up at the stars, which showed no sign of movement all night. "That felt longer than it was. I need to get out of these woods."

Cllimbing higher to get a better look, Shacklebolt surveyed the top of the forest. The trees surrounding him seemed to go on forever. Turning around, he saw a cluster of large shapes with small, yellow-orange lights dotting them.

A town.

Shacklebolt dropped from his branch, facing the signs of civilization he saw. His adrenaline began to die down, and rational thought caught up with him. He reflected on his earlier encounter with the ponies, and noticed something off about it.

"Where did I learn to fight like that?" He looked at his chitin-coated hoof. "Am I a soldier? Maybe CIA?" He shook his head. Now was not the time for those questions.

Looking back once more for any signs of followers, he didn't pick up on anything. Sighing, he began his run forward, occassionally looking up at the angle of the stars to make sure he kept his heading.

His mode of navigation was soon taken from him as clouds began to roll over the sky. Lightning flashed overhead, followed by deep, rolling thunder. In moments, it began to rain.

"Well, shit," the changeling said to himself, "If it isn't starvation or insane ponies, it's the fucking cold that's gonna kill me."

Reaching the edge of the forest, Shacklebolt stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the small village and fear grasped his stomach. If this place was filled with ponies too, and the ponies saw him as a monster if his previous encounter was any indication, then by going in there, he would either be captured, or run out, or even killed.

And you think the wilderness will be any more hospitable?

The insectoid shivered and shook the rain off himself, only to be immediately soaked again by the continuing downpour. Fear still gripped him, and he wanted to turn back and run to the castle he started in.

Biting his lip, he came to a comprimise. "I'll just try to talk to someone. Maybe I can convince them I'm not an evil... what did that guy call me? Changeling? If they attack, I'll run back to the castle and try to survive on my own. If not, maybe they can help me."

He looked at himself, then back at the town. "Someone's gotta believe I'm not a monster... I hope."

Fatigue was bearing down on him now. He had to find shelter before the cold got to him as well. Running along the outskirts of town, Shacklebolt tried to decide which would be the best place to ask for help. If he was attacked, he preferred to be somewhere he could easily escape from, and go back into the forest.

A small farm house near the edge of town came into view. Again, the fear came full force, making him step back as he approached the door. A creature such as him appearing in the middle of a stormy night would not be taken well, but he still couldn't stay out here.

Grunting and berating himself for his cowardice, he turned and left, going instead to the large barn next to them. At least this way, he was guarenteed shelter for the night; they could chase him out in the morning, if they so chose.

The changeling crawled into the corner and built himself a nest of hay, then curled up in it and layed his head on his forelegs. Sleep came swiftly for him as even the sounds of the storm were drowned out by the void.