5 seconds.

Just 5 seconds.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5. That's it!

It wasn’t more than 5 seconds after his crossbow was fired, that the gryphon found himself amidst the scene of a massacre, and staring down the shaft of his own weapon. The clubs of all his compatriots were broken, as were their spines. Most of their beaks were crushed as well. Of the five of them, the shooter was the only bandit who knew what hit them: A single changeling, seething with anger, and pointing a loaded crossbow at him.

“H-how…” the gryphon choked, “how did you move so fast?!”

Fletcher grit his teeth. Then he vanished.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he whispered in the gryphon’s ear, right before slamming his foreleg down on his wing. There came a snapping sound from the bones therein, as well as an agonized howl from the shooter. The gryphon tried to take a swing at the changeling, but he had already vanished again and was dealing a punch to the flank on the opposite side. The beast’s pelvis sounded a loud crunch, and he screamed even louder.

“You’ve broken a family!” Fletcher yelled as he moved on to the gryphon’s legs. “I’m not letting you join your little pals until I’ve broken every bone in your body!”

The pace continued, a series of quick, hard strikes at random locations on the gryphon’s body, until the tom was lying on his belly, every leg having been broken in several places. Fletcher was now working on the other wing, and was making sure to be reeeeeal slow about it.

“AHHHHHHH! P-PLEASE! HAVE MERCY!” the gryphon screamed.

Fletcher stopped. “Mercy…” He grabbed the gryphons ear and pulled it upwards. “Do you hear that?!”

Over by the carriage, the foal was still crying.

“You took lives without so much as a second thought, over something as stupid as money! That child’s family is gone forever now, because of you! You dare to speak of mercy?!”

The gryphon didn’t say anything, his only response a pathetic whimper.

“That’s what I thought,” Fletcher hissed.

“Please... just end it quickly,” the gryphon whined.

Fletcher’s eyes narrowed. He stared daggers at the mongrel as he walked around to face him. He was silent for a long time, considering his words. A quick death is far too good for you, but in the interest of getting a now orphaned foal out of the rain, I shall show you your precious ‘mercy’. He slowly brought the crossbow up.

“Very well.”

Click.

Shoom!

-------------------------------------------

Fletcher slowly approached the crying foal and the pony couple laying in the mud. He reached ahead with his magic and levitated the carriage door overhead to shield the child from the rain. Would it be kinder to just send the poor thing where its parents are?

Suddenly, something caught his eye. A feeble hoof was trying to rock the bundle back and forth. The stallion was still alive! Fletcher cursed himself as he bolted toward them. If he hadn’t spent those precious seconds punishing the last gryphon, he could have been getting them help by now. He just assumed the parents were already gone. Fletcher slid to a stop, frantically turned the stallion over, and brought him upright.

“Thank goodness! You’re ali--”

The word died in his throat when he saw the wound. The stallion looked up at him with hazy eyes.

“Thankyou,” he croaked.

Without looking away from the stallion, Fletcher picked up the bundled child with his magic and wicked away the moisture. Then he began to rock it back and forth in his aura.

“D-don’t speak, I’m taking you to get he--”

“I’m not going to make it," the pony interrupted him. "Please, take care of my daugh--”

“Don’t say that! Come on, we’ve got to get you to a hospital.” Fletcher started to envelope the stallion in his aura so he could lift him onto his back, but the stallion made him pause, pressing a shaky hoof against his chest-plate.

“The body knows when it’s a goner, my Friend,” he whispered.

“But your daughter needs you! A child needs to have a father!” Fletcher cried.

The pony coughed. Then he smiled despite the pain, or the blood trickling from his lips. “She’ll have one,” he rasped, “one that’s even better than the one she was given.”

Fletcher blinked. “Me?! You can’t be serious! I’m a changeling! As far as you lot are concerned, I’m a monster. You honestly intend to leave your daughter with someone like me?!”

“No Sir...” The pony's eyes began to close. “Monsters don’t defend the helpless. You Sir, are a hero, which is exactly what a father is supposed to be for his daughter.” Tears streamed from the stallion’s eyes as he spoke those last words. He coughed again. “I don’t have much time. Please, promise me you’ll take care of her.”

“She must have extended family, an Aunt or Uncle that would take her in?”

The pony shook his head. “She has nopony. Please, I beg you.”

Fletcher’s good eye was watering. After a long pause, he finally answered. “I promise I will make sure she’s taken care of. What...what is her name?”

Another smile graced the stallion’s face as a peaceful expression washed over him.

“That’s up to you. She’s yours now,” he muttered. The stallion released a final, peaceful sigh, and ventured off to see his wife.

Fletcher’s eyes squeezed shut, releasing the stream down the good side of his face. The pony misunderstood him. If he took care of the filly himself, she would die. Children give love to their parents unconditionally. While it was possible that he could remain in changeling form so he wouldn’t harm her, doing so would likely get him caught very quickly. Not to mention he'd probably terrify the poor thing.

Fletcher shook his head. She was better off with a family of ponies anyway.

The closest city to them was Canterlot. He would take her there and find an orphanage. That way, at the very least, he could come in disguise to check up on her, to make sure she was well taken care of until a family adopted her.

He turned his attention to the filly he was rocking in the air. She was dry now, but she was still crying... He didn’t blame her one bit. He gently lowered her into his hooves and rocked her back and forth.

Since he wouldn’t be with her very long, he changed into his favorite unicorn disguise: black coat with blue eyes, and a mane ‘n’ tail to match. He’d need it if he was going to take her to town, but this also let him comfort her with the sensation of warm fur.

He caught a glimpse of her face for the first time, and she was absolutely beautiful. Her coat was a warm, creamy, butterscotch color, and her mane was a soft blend of blues. She looked like the shores of a sandy beach. The sight of her tears, and the knowledge that there will surely be many more to come in her life, were enough to break his heart.

“Shhhhh, it’s alright little one,” he cooed. “Everything’s alright.”

The filly settled somewhat at the warm touch, but still continued to moan. Fletcher wondered, as he wiped away her tears, if a pony’s foal would respond to a changeling’s lullaby the same way. In the hive, changelings didn’t have family units. They were like a village. Every changeling was raised by the entire hive, their needs met by the nearest adult. So naturally, Fletcher knew how to take care of children, just… not pony children. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, Fletcher began to chirp a lullaby.

Changeling lullabies, or even their songs for that matter, weren’t like normal songs. There were no spoken words, just harmonious vibrations and frequencies that sounded like chimes, or string instruments, or the sound of running a wet hoof over the rim of a crystal glass. The unique thing about changelings was that, because of their unique tongues and throats, they were able to chirp multiple different melodies at once, which was pretty much impossible for any other creature. This ability was what allowed them to mimic any voice. Fletcher chuckled mentally. If they really wanted to mess with someone, a changeling could speak with multiple voices at once, make echoes, or throw their voices. He screwed with Dizzy a couple times doing that, and they’d laughed for hours.

To his pleasant surprise, he noticed the same change in emotions as a changeling foal would in response to his lullaby. He tuned it based on that feedback, and it wasn’t long before she settled down. She then snuggled into him as close as she could, and fell asleep. Fletcher sighed. If I were a pony, I’d keep you in a heartbeat little one. I’m so sorry this happened to you.

Having a desire to rid her of this horrendous scene, the changeling took a dry blanket from the carriage, snugly bound her to his back with it, and with a floating door overhead, began the long walk to the capital. Changing to a pegasus and flying would have been much faster, but after using those techniques on the gryphons he didn’t have the energy to fight against the wind. That, and he wouldn’t be able to hold up the door and keep them dry so she could sleep. No. This was fine. She was warm, dry, and sleeping soundly, which was all that mattered.

Author's Notes:

Wow hey? Fletcher wasn't kidding about that whole 'unleash Tartarus' thing!

Ok, so a note about everybody vs everypony so you guys know I'm not just slipping up every time I switch. As a creature that can turn into any of the multitude of beings in the MLP universe, changelings use the term everybody, unless they are in disguise. Then they use whatever term is appropriate for that culture.

Anyway, if you like it, be sure to show it! Fav and like, but also leave comments. I love hearing reader's favourite parts, what they liked, and so forth.
Cheers.