Never gone

Molly’s stomach crept along the ground on her hunt. Her orders from the princess received, she would not, under any circumstance, be seen or heard by anyone. Back at Canterlot she had been briefed of the pink pony’s uncanny perceptiveness. Years of tracking and hunting had served her well. Her preys hopping would mislead many would-be trackers. The hoof prints talked to her as well as the smell of that disgusting pie. The fallen limestone buildings surrounded her as she stalked. A fetlock hair was left behind; it faced north. She had kept out of sight and had taken great care to move with speed. An unfortunate beam of light strayed into the building where she had paused. She looked around at the architecture for the first time. Great rolls of cloth and stacks of reeds lay in black urns. Upon the wall was pinned designs of changelings wearing gowns. Under her breath she muttered to herself.

“Why would they make clothes for themselves? Why not the ponies whose lives they tried to destroy?” Her voice, quiet as it was, stirred the air. The small breath had begun to reverberate throughout the room and caused the dust on the ceilings to break free and fly around. Molly heard the structure crack. The bricks on the east wall began to fly loose and the ceiling started sliding down. She ran towards the window and dived through it with her wings tucked. Rolling out on the ground had caused her vision to dance and spin. She lay there as the building behind her collapsed.

“Well so much for not being heard.”
As she stood up and focused the fountain in front of her came into view. The aestetics of canterlot seemed so fake and unreal in comparison. From the hoof carved limestone basin arose an obsidian tree. In three different paths it opened up into an ebony mold. The changeling that raised its arms to the sky from the flower seemed to be yearning to fly. The midday sun seemed almost reachable by its outstretched hoof. As the dust settled around her she began to notice the ebony lining the stone roads. Everywhere she looked the sun would glint or shimmer off of everything she saw. She waited for her pink charge to show up, yet no one came. She had come from the west over the mountains and had gone northeastern through the town. Now in the obvious center of commerce she continued to walk north. All the buildings to the south had caved in and had no signs of life, while the northern ones seemed more alive. Again silence reigned and she walked alone.

She had picked up on that somehow still pungent pie, but had kept walking. The complete silence would alert her if someone broke it. It appeared she was now walking through an artificial parkland. The carefully tended grass wound around the curving pathway towards a large black castle. Molly chose each step carefully as she avoided disturbing the grass. The trees were healthy and the sun shone through them on all sides of the park like a natural fence. So lost in reverence she almost bumped into the great castle. Looking up, however, proved her wrong. The glass windows were all shattered. The once decorated stone walls were eroded. Even the size of the place got her confused. No bigger than a Canterlot mansion stood a once proud castle. The same limestone as all the others had built it. The black outline from before now stood corrected. Changelings of all sizes lay about on the near lawn. The roof was littered with their corpses. Some who had seemingly tried to make their way by force had died in every place concievable. Every window, every egress was clustered by their bodies. Molly came to the front door where one wearing armor had died standing guard. She came close to inspect it.

“Iron armor means a poor military. Rigidness of posture tells of loyalty.” She walked around and inspected it from the side. “Carapace cracked in many places. exposed skin white. Could mean starvation.”
She took one glance behind at the pile on the lawn. She could tell that a similar fate had befallen all of them. Her hoof hesitated at the doorknob. A warrior like her has seen death before. This was almost unreal. It reminded her of what she had thought should happen to her former enemy before. She wasn’t imaginative enough to think of something like this. Steeling her eyes through the door she walked inside. The light from inside was a light green. What appeared to be the pods from the invasion hung from the ceiling. Tables had been set up around them along with wooden bowls and spoons. Bending down to pick one up she saw a set of green eyes blink at her from under the nearest table. In surprise she lowered into her battle stance. The bowl rolled through the groove in the stone floor and tapped the door. A scream could be heard through the shutting doorway.