Captain Feathers sat in the hot sun outside the fort, staring at her hooves with faded, unfocused eyes. Fancy had been sitting with her for some time, but had long given up trying to improve her mood. In a way, he’d known it to be a fruitless effort; she’d just lost almost her entire squadron, how was she supposed to cheer up after that?

Only twenty-three Red Wings remained. Even if the servants decided to fight, it still amounted to less than thirty pegasi. What could thirty do against a dragon?

A shadow passed over them. Fancy looked up to find Colonel Mander there with some wooden plates on his back. He offered one to Fancy; it had a couple cucumbers and some hay. Fancy wasn’t hungry, but he took the plate anyway. Another plate was set before Oak. She didn’t even acknowledge it.

Fancy leaned towards her. “C’mon, Captain, you’ve got to—”

“Don’t bother, Fancy,” Colonel Mander grumbled, taking a position on the other side of Oak. “She’ll eat when she’s ready to. Just thought I’d offer it.”

Fancy watched as the colonel started eating, noting he had no cucumbers on his plate. At last Fancy began eating, though he avoided the vegetable. If the colonel wasn’t going to eat them, neither was he.

The sun beat down on the three of them. An occasional wind threatened to steal away their hay. The wounded still lay in the shade of the castle, though most of them had been treated. A small caravan rumbled off in the distance, carrying the dead and most severely injured back to Estéril Pezuñas. The number of wagons seemed so insignificant compared to the number of ponies lost.

They sat in silence, Fancy and the colonel quietly chewing their meal and Oak staring at her hooves. Fancy eyed the cloud that now hovered over the fort. The cheer it had brought had been so very short lived, and the cloud seemed almost mocking in its carefree fluffiness.

Fancy's ears perked as Oak shifted. He turned to find her slowly lifting her plate. She munched on the hay, her eyes hard and her movements robotic. After swallowing her first bite, she finally spoke. “Fancy, do you remember what you told me before the march?”

He said nothing. Colonel Mander glanced at them curiously. Oak finished another bite of hay. Her voice was as hard as steel.

“I’m not sure I want to survive this war.”

Fancy shot an alarmed look at the colonel, who returned it with a dark expression.

Colonel Mander turned back to his plate. “You don’t get a choice in that, Captain.”

Oak’s eyes narrowed, but her gaze was still on her plate. “When that black devil shows up, I’m going to fly down his throat. We’ll see how he laughs with a spear in his gullet.”

“Suicide’s not the way to do it, Oak,” Fancy said.

“Then give me a weakness,” she snarled, her eyes rising. They scorched like the sun. “If you can give me one weakness, I’ll go for it instead. I don’t care what I have to do, that dragon’s going down.”

Colonel Mander sighed and patted her shoulder. “I understand how you feel.”

She slapped his hoof away and turned on him. “Do you? I trained those ponies, Geri. I showed them all my moves. You give me a name and I could have told you the size of the pony’s bucking horseshoe! Don’t tell me you understand!”

He studied her for a few seconds, and Fancy saw what might have been memories floating through the stallion’s eyes. He looked as if he wanted to speak more than anything, to correct her claim of holding a unique pain, but in the end he just turned back to his meal.

“The dragons don’t have a weakness,” Oak grumbled, also focusing on her plate. “I’ll end it. Maybe my kid will have a better chance because of my sacrifice, and the families of all those poor jerks who won’t be coming home.”

The colonel sighed from around his hay. “There must be something.”

“The closest thing we’ve got to an expert is Fancy.” Oak took a crunching bite of one of her cucumbers. “If he’s got nothing, we’re screwed. Having the guts to stand up to Reddux doesn’t make him any more useful than either of us.”

Fancy huddled over his plate with a guilty feeling. He thought on that moment on the beach, when he’d been so determined to face Reddux and help Celestia. He’d been so useless. If Celestia couldn’t stop a dragon, who could?

He closed his eyes and envisioned that moment; the fear, the anger, the instinctual need to act. He could see the red menace’s face, that fanged grin as he flew straight for Fancy. Crystals. He’d actually bothered to fire crystals. How was an attack like that supposed to pierce those scales? The memory filled him with dread; again he watched as his magical creations shattered like glass against scale after scale, never doing anything. The only part they’d managed to get through was—

Fancy’s plate clattered to the ground. He stared at the fort, but he wasn’t looking at it. No, he was looking at an image, frozen in his brain as if time had stopped. Slowly, he brought his eyes up to the cloud.

“Oak?”

The captain grumbled to indicate she’d heard.

“If a pony fell at terminal velocity, what kind of impact would that make?”

She glanced at him with a small frown. “What the hay kind of question is that?”

He ignored her and jumped to his hooves. He gazed at the cloud, concepts rolling around in his skull. When those concepts clicked together, he burst into a gallop for the gate.

“Hey, where are you going?”

Colonel Mander shouted. “Less talking, more following!”

The shade of the cloud covered Fancy, reducing the heat by only a fraction. He charged through the gate and went straight for the guards of the keep’s main entrance. He slid to a stop, dust and dirt flying around him. “Where’s Whinnie? I need to talk to her right away!”

One of the guards pointed. “She’s on the northern wall.”

Fancy bolted, running right past Oak and Colonel Mander as they caught up. They said nothing, only turned to pursue.

Fancy raced up the steps three at a time. Once at the top, he spotted Whinnie standing just above the fort’s main gate, staring after the caravan heading north. Fancy came to another sliding stop.

“Lieutenant Colonel! I need to talk to Commander Dune. Bring me into the keep!”

Whinnie gave him a perplexed frown, then shook her head. “Sorry, Fancy, no can do.” She gestured to the horizon. “The commander’s with the caravan.”

Captain Feathers landed on the wall beside Fancy. “What? He abandoned us?”

“Watch your tone, Captain.” Whinnie shot her a scowl. “For your information, the commander’s going to Estéril Pezuñas to try and recruit more soldiers. He knows we don’t stand a chance after this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Fancy declared with confidence. “The dragons have a weakness, and I know how to exploit it! We can—”

“First Lieutenant!” Whinnie stomped. “It is my job now to see that what few defenders we have are ready to enact the commander’s plan. I simply don’t have time to entertain your illusions of grandeur.”

“What?” Oak launched and hovered over them. “He said he knows of a weakness! Weren’t you listening?”

“We already have a plan,” Whinnie countered. “The longer we stand here coming up with hair-brained alternatives, the less drilling we can perform preparing for it. Now stand aside, I have work to do.”

Yet when Whinnie turned around, she walked right into the broad chest of Colonel Mander. He stared down at her with his best stone-faced scowl. “I think it’s in everypony’s best interest to at least hear what the First Lieutenant has to say.”

Whinnie stepped back, but managed to meet him glare-for-glare. “Well then it’s a good thing you aren’t in charge here. Stand aside, Colonel.”

Fancy threw up his hooves. “I can’t believe that you actually think Commander Dune’s plan will succeed!”

“It’s the plan we came up with!” Whinnie turned on him. “You were there. All of you were there! You agreed to it.”

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Oak growled. “You and the commander said ‘this is how it’s going to be’ and pulled rank if we gave any criticism.”

Whinnie thrust a hoof at her. “You’re on thin ice.” The hoof turned to Fancy. “I am not changing the plan this late in the game. Respect the chain of command!”

“The chain of—” Colonel Mander’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes bulging and his face red.

“That’s right, the chain of command.” Whinnie turned to him. “Is that understood, Colonel?”

Colonel Mander stood there in silence, his upper lip twitching. Fancy thought there might be steam coming out of his ears. This image worried him; the last time the colonel had behaved in such a way, he’d given up and stormed out. Fancy glanced at Oak, but she was watching Whinnie in the same way Fancy imagined a hawk eyes prey.

Colonel Mander turned with a jerk and marched to the edge of the wall, facing down into the courtyard. He shouted, the sudden sound making Fancy jump as it boomed across the fort. “Soldiers of the 8th Battalion, let me ask you all a question: do you like being under the command of an officer who sits all day in his cool tower while you drill in the endless sun?”

Most of the ponies below – caught off guard by the abrupt query – shared questioning looks, but more than a few of them answered “Neigh!”

Whinnie bared her teeth. “What are you doing?”

“Do you want to follow a commander who ignores the words of his advisers and the needs of his soldiers?”

The neighs were louder this time.

“Colonel, I’m warning you—” Whinnie leaned back as Oak shook a hoof in her face.

Colonel Mander surveyed the gathering crowd. His eyes shined with anger. “Do you want to obey the orders of a stallion who happily sends most of our battalion, our friends and companions, on a suicide mission for no reason?”

The outcry filled the air, fueled by anger and pain. Whinnie’s eyes went wide at the sight of the guardponies joining in.

“And when that commander abandons you to the mercy of the enemy so he can rest easy in Estéril Pezuñas—” He thrust a hoof at Whinnie, who shrank at the sudden attention, “—do you have any intention of following the lapdog officer he chose to command in his stead?”

The soldiers and guards stomped and shouted, raising dust as they cried their frustration.

The colonel clapped his heavy hoof on Fancy’s shoulder. “We have with us a survivor of the Slaughter of Sueño, the one pony who stood with Princess Celestia against Reddux on the beach of Estéril Pezuñas!”

Fancy felt his cheeks burn as the crowd all but screamed its approval.

“He has a plan!” Colonel Mander shook Fancy, nearly knocking him over in the process. “He believes he knows a way to bring down a dragon!”

Fancy felt his legs wobble as more cheers hit his ears.

“But no!” Colonel Mander’s leg was flung Whinnie’s way again. Her yellow face had gone white. “The Lieutenant Colonel says we should stick to Commander Dune’s plan, the same plan the two of them dreamed up while ignoring the advice of me, the Captain of the Red Wings and the Hero of Sueño!”

The cheers reverted to angry shouts. Whinnie gulped.

“So you tell us: would you rather follow the chain of command, or do you want to kill a dragon!?”

The ponies below stomped and cheered with such enthusiasm Fancy thought he felt the wall shake beneath his hooves. Even the wounded ponies were shouting their approval.

“Y… y-you can’t do this!” Whinnie’s eyes darted about. “This is treason. Mutiny! When the commander finds out about this, he’ll have your heads!”

“Red Wings, to me!” Captain Feathers rose to hover high above the wall, and she was soon joined by her remaining pegasi. She looked down at Fancy with a firm smile. “We’re with you, First Lieutenant. That dragon will go down long before the last Red Wing loses her wings!” Her squadron gave a unified cry, every one of them possessing an expression of fierce determination.

“You have no idea the trouble you’re in!” Whinnie turned on the colonel. “You’re all going to be court martialed! If you know what’s good for—”

The colonel caught her in his hooves and threw her effortlessly over the wall. She shrieked, but a pair of pegasi caught her just before she hit the ground. They deposited her in the dirt, the soldiers forming a wide circle around her. She trembled in the center, head swiveling to take in their dark faces.

Colonel Mander sneered and pointed to the keep. “Lock that no-account up in the commander’s office!”

The soldiers shouted their approval as two of the guards grabbed Whinnie and dragged her to the keep. She made no attempt to fight them, though she did shoot a dark look back towards the wall. “You’re going to regret this! Every last one of you!”

The front doors closed with a bang and the world went silent. All eyes turned to Fancy, who had been rooted to the spot ever since Whinnie’s fall. He swallowed the lump in his throat. His heart pounded in his swelling chest. No amount of stuttering could get his appreciation out. After a while he dropped to his haunches and released a long, slow breath.

Fancy looked up at Captain Feathers and her Red Wings. She nodded to him, a confident smirk on her lips. He gazed at Colonel Mander, who returned the look with a firmness only he could muster. He looked down at the soldiers below, who were all watching with expectant expressions.

“Well, stop gawking! Let’s hear this plan.” Colonel Mander slapped Fancy’s shoulder with enough force to make him stumble.

“It had better be a damn good one.”

A rumbling sound roused Fleur from her slumber. She jerked to a sitting position, awake in an instant, to find herself beside the tent. The shadows of the cliff kept her somewhat cool, but Fine's non-presence worried her.

“Tialvis! Come out here, you old crone.”

The booming voice filled Fleur with dread. She crept along the side of the tent and peered around it. Fine Crime lay behind the rocks alongside the massive wall of Crater Lake, where they’d chosen to hide from the ponies that patrolled the northern cave. He spotted her and signaled that she should stay low, so she crawled to him on her belly. Upon reaching the rocks, she looked beyond them and let out a gasp: the black dragon she’d seen at Sueño sat before the cave entrance, the ponies all fleeing inside. Her heart pounding, Fleur glanced to Fine, but he only shrugged and indicated that she should listen.

“I grow impatient, eggsitter.” The dragon stamped his claw, generating cracks in the dry earth. “Show your ancient face.”

A deep but feminine voice responded from within the cave. “What is it now, Eruk?” Fleur shrank down behind the rocks as a green dragon – one of the other attackers – brought her long neck out of the cave. “Is there a reason you keep coming to disturb me?”

The dragon turned his gaze about the desolate region. “Reddux has not returned?”

“No.” Tialvis peered at him. “You know he hasn’t had time. What is your real purpose?”

Eruk’s lips curled back in a wicked grin. “I merely wished to reassure the lady that the plan is going well: the army of Celestia was destroyed.” He puffed out his massive chest and flapped his wings, the resulting winds stirring up sand.

Tialvis gave a derisive sniff. “So you came to gloat. Again.”

Eruk rubbed his chest with a smug expression. “Jealous? I am sorry that you must waste your time safeguarding a bunch of unborn hatchlings while Reddux and I have our fun, even if that is the proper role of females.”

“There is nothing fun about the slaughter of the ponies,” Tialvis corrected with a low growl. “I am doing my duty and preserving the future of our race!”

Fine nudged Fleur. “You hear that? Sounds like they're hoarding eggs in there.”

Fleur nodded, but then scrunched her face in thought. “But I thought Parjin said dragon females rarely have more than one egg. Why would there be a lot in one place?”

“Do not act so noble,” Eruk hissed at Tialvis. “You are as selfish as I am, eggsitter. Nursing those hatchlings will not replace the egg you lost.”

Tialvis let out a roar that shook the earth. She came forward, her arms appearing in the sunlight as she raised herself up. “You insulting worm! You are no better! Tell me, Eruk: does it make you feel proud murdering the ponies when your mate is already dead?”

Eruk let out a bellow to rival Tialvis’s, his claws reaching for her throat, but he stopped himself just short of grasping it. His arms shook and his face contorted in rage and effort, but at last he turned away from her. “Do not speak of her to me. It’s not my fault!”

“Of course it isn’t.” Tialvis relaxed and lowered herself back into the cave. “You must not blame yourself, Eruk.”

“I should have been awake,” Eruk hissed, his claws opening and closing repeatedly. “I should have protected her!”

“Even dragons cannot stay awake forever.” She reached a claw for his back.

He jerked away, launching to hover over her. “Do not touch me! I won’t be touched by another female for as long as I live!”

“That will be a long time,” Tialvis observed. “Tell me, ponyslayer: when you have drank your fill of their blood and their dragonslayer is dust, will you be satisfied?”

“Never.” Eruk landed well away from her. “I could kill every last pony in the land and not be satisfied. I will not give them the chance to kill another female. Never again.”

Tialvis tilted her head. “Is that why you keep coming back? To ensure I am safe?”

Eruk sneered and looked away. He made no attempt to answer.

Just then, Fine shifted and groaned. Fleur turned to find him lying on his barrel and clutching his head in trembling hooves. With a small gasp, she dropped to his side and tried to look at his face, but it was well hidden beneath his canons. “Fine, what’s wrong?”

“Be quiet,” he hissed through clenched teeth. His entire body began to shake.

Fleur stared at him, a sense of helplessness coming over her. She reached for him, hesitated and pulled back. He sucked in sharp, gasping breaths, his back heaving, and she could hear indecipherable whispering from beneath his legs. With no idea what to do, she crept back and watched with bated breath.

There was no telling how long the apparent fit lasted, but finally Fine came out of it. He heaved a long gasp and stretched his entire body, then fell panting to the dirt.

Chewing her lip, Fleur approached. “F-Fine? Are you okay?” Her ears perked to the sound of beating wings. She looked over the rocks to see Eruk flying north once again. Tialvis was gone entirely.

Fleur turned back to Fine, who hadn’t moved. She bent down to study his face, only to find that his fringe had flopped over it. She reached a shaky hoof to move it, but paused; the roots of his mane were red. As she pondered this change, Fine groaned and began to sit up.

“Well,” he grumbled, “three weeks are up.”

“W-what was that?”

He brushed his mane back and shook himself as if to remove water. “I had a vision, and a strong one.”

She blinked. “A… vision?”

“Yep.” He ignored her stare and approached the rocks. “So they’re gone. This is a golden opportunity.”

Fleur walked up next to him and tried to look him in the eye. “What’s a vision?”

“It’ll be easier to show you than to explain,” he claimed. “I need to move quickly to make this work. Stay here.”

“Wait!” She jumped to her hooves as he began to climb over the rocks. “Where are you going?”

“Those ponies will be coming out of the caves soon,” he replied. “I’m going to capture one and drag him back here for an interrogation. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon, and then you’ll see who you’re really working with.”

She watched him go with wide eyes. He’d spoken so casually, but something told her his definition of ‘interrogation’ involved more than just a few questions. Shuffling, she watched as he galloped towards the caves, covering a surprising amount of distance in a short time. Was he really that confident he could just kidnap a pony?

Then again, he did claim to be an assassin. Did assassins also kidnap from time to time?

She dropped back into the shade of the rocks to ponder what she’d seen. There had been so much information coming so quickly, from Fine and the dragons. That ‘Eruk’ had spoken of a pony killing his mate in her sleep, or at least that was what she’d gathered from the conversation. Surely something like that would have been common knowledge in Equestria, right? One doesn’t just kill a dragon and not boast about—

Her eyes went wide in sudden understanding. To think, Daring Deeds was revered as the dragonslayer! If all his tales of heroism had been a lie, what would that do to his reputation? She started to smile, but her idea collapsed instantly with the realization that she had no proof.

With a groan, she shoved thoughts of that bastard aside and refocused on Fine Crime. He’d said he’d had a ‘vision,’ but it looked more like an ‘attack’ to her. Was he suffering from some kind of illness? He’d said something about three weeks passing. This wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned that timespan: he’d also talked about a three week time limit when he mentioned an interest in killing her. She’d come to think that he was trying to scare her, perhaps to test her conviction again. Could there be some correlation?

And what of his mane? Where had that red come from? Had it always been there and she’d just never noticed? Fleur pondered in the shadows for a long time, lost in her thoughts as she struggled for answers that just wouldn’t come. She wished he would be straightforward with her some more, instead of misleading her into these circular thoughts.

Something white flew over the rocks, jolting her from her reverie. It was a pegasus, who hit the ground with a low groan. She stared at the mare, momentarily stunned beyond comprehension, but then Fine climbed back over the rocks.

“You weren’t kidding,” she whispered, taking a cautious step towards the pegasus. The poor pony had a broken wing and her orange mane was a mess of tangles.

“Keep back.” Fine pushed her towards the tent, his horn shining red. “Give me a moment.” He sat and raised his horn high. He concentrated with his eyes closed for several long seconds, and then the magic spread in a wide circle before fading away. He smiled and turned to the pegasus, who was just beginning to climb to her hooves.

“Now then, you’re going to answer some questions.”

The pegasus shook her head and scowled. “I’m not answering a thing. All I have to do is scream and the rest will be on you in an instant.”

“Not if you scream while inside my silencing barrier, they won’t.” Fine took a few steps closer, his manner ominous. “Look, just play along and this will all be over.”

The pegasus peered at the sky, clearly considering the possibility that Fine was bluffing.

“First,” Fine said, catching her attention, “why is Tialvis guarding a bunch of dragon eggs?”

“Go to Tartarus!” The pegasus turned and started to run, but before she could get two steps something red formed before her legs: it was a thin, glowing sword. It stabbed into her hoof and she fell with a cry. Fleur winced and felt a moment of trepidation for what was about to happen, but she refused to look away.

Fine jerked the aural weapon out and sat before the pegasus. “Now now, there’s no need to make this needlessly messy. I—” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Well, well…”

Fleur saw it, too: the blood oozing out of the pony’s wound was green. She gaped at it, trying to process what she was seeing.

“Secret’s out.” Fine lowered the blade so it was aimed at the pegasus’s throat. “Why not drop the disguise, hmm?”

The pegasus glared at him… then smirked. Something akin to green flames rose up her body, making Fleur gasp at the sight of black, chitinous legs, bug-like wings and a twisted horn. The creature flashed her a fanged grin and winked with big, otherworldly blue eyes. She’d heard stories of changelings, but to actually see one…

“I’m less inclined to be nice to a bug,” Fine grumbled, catching the changelings attention. “You know what I want. Talk, and I’ll make this quick.”

The changeling’s horn began to glow. “Or I can just—” It’s words caught as Fine pressed the tip of his weapon against its throat.

Fine’s dagger rose, the wire lifting over his head, and began to glow brightly. His face had become as hard as stone, and there was a menace in his eyes Fleur had only seen once. That gaze had terrified her before, and it wasn’t pleasant to look upon now. His voice dripped with ominous intent that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Try it, bug. I dare you.”

The changeling’s eyes went wide and it swallowed. Slowly, the light in its horn died down.

“Good.” Neither blade moved. “The eggs?”

The changeling’s strange eyes shifted from side to side as though in search of a solution to its dilemma. After a couple seconds of thought, it spoke. “The Queen made a deal with Reddux to steal dragon eggs and make it appear the ponies were responsible. He intends to raise them as an army.”

Fleur gasped and jumped to her hooves. “The ships!” At their curious looks, she said, “The bodies on the ships, the ones untouched by the dragons! That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

Fine considered her, then looked to the changeling. “Answer her.”

The changeling regained its wicked grin. “Yes, we did it. We found the survivors and drained them of all their love until they were nothing but mindless husks. Do it long and fast enough and their brains just shut down.”

Fleur stepped back, a chill running down her spine. “Y-you’re a monster.”

“We’re just trying to survive,” the changeling replied simply. “Do you have any idea how little food we have? Our race is starving.”

“Not our fault,” Fine grumbled, “and not what I care about at the moment. What else were you planning?”

The changeling once again smiled, this time smugly. “A little something for your precious pony princess.”

Fine’s expression darkened. “Explain.”

“Part of our deal with Reddux was that he couldn’t kill Celestia, only wound her and force her into a regenerative sleep.” The changeling giggled. “She should be in a pod as we speak, having her mind warped and twisted. Soon she’ll be another loyal follower of our glorious queen!”

Fleur gasped. “No! Fine, we have to go back and warn—”

Fine’s leg rose, effectively silencing her. His cool eyes, still set with that terrible menace, never left the changeling’s. “I think we’re almost out of time. Is there anything else you want to add?”

The changeling was undeterred by his manner. “Not a thing, save that the swarm will soon take you both. You think they won’t notice I am missing?”

Fine nodded. “So be it. Fleur?”

His eyes were like daggers, and they rooted her to the spot. “Y-yes?”

“Remember what I told you about learning the truth about me?” She nodded, and he turned his eyes back to the smug changeling. “You’re about to get your lesson. Things are going to get very dangerous, so whatever you do, stay right there. No matter what you see, don’t speak, don’t cry, and for your own sake, don’t run. Understood?”

“Umm… yes?”

“Good.”

“Aren’t we dramatic?” The changeling leaned forward, pressing its throat against the blade. “Go on, then! I’m happy to die for the Swarm.”

Fine heaved a deep breath and closed his eyes. He remained that way for several seconds, still as stone. The changeling shifted and cast a glance at Fleur, but she only shrugged.

Fine’s eyes opened wide and a broad, toothy grin formed on his face.

“You won’t be.”

The dagger floating at his side shot forward, encased in a powerful red aura. It pierced the changeling’s horn at the hilt, the tip of the blade punching through the other side. The changeling let out a cry and started to fall back, but its body jerked to a stop as the blade rose a few inches. The creature grappled with the weapon in its horn.

The shriek was like a white-hot blade piercing Fleur’s brain. She covered her ears and stared slack-jawed as the blade twisted. The changeling struggled to move its head to accommodate the motion.

“Stop!” The changeling squirmed and clawed at its head. “For the love of Mantis, stop!”

There was a resounding crack, a jagged line forming in the poor thing’s horn as the knife completed its turn. Fine jerked the blade out and the changeling collapsed in a sobbing mess, green blood covering its head.

“That’s a lovely sound,” Fine whispered, his bulging eyes studying the slowly rotating knife. He still held that wicked grin. “So pleasant, so sweet.” He took a step towards the changeling. “Won’t you sing for me some more?”

“You’re crazy!” The changeling charged him, but the blood was in its eyes. Fine dodged easily, and as he did the aural sword sliced low and cut off one of its hooves, green gunk spraying across the rocks.

Fleur covered her mouth, a sick feeling in her stomach. She saw the damage, the blood littering the ground, and looked upon Fine. Yet she realized quickly that the pony before her wasn’t Fine, not even remotely. He might not even qualify as equine anymore. She wanted to run and hide from this… this thing that used to be her companion, but she didn’t dare move.

“Crazy, crazy, crazy. Yes…” Fine turned, his mouth opening wide in a hideous leer as he turned back to the changeling. “I’m so crazy, oh so crazy.” He began to approach it again.

“K-keep away from me…” The changeling tried to stand, but dropped with a cry. Blood seeped from both its forelegs. “No, d-don’t come any closer!” Its horn shined green for barely a second before it cried out and clutched at its head.

Fine was standing over it. He emitted a high pitched chuckle and leaned over its flank. “Blood. Look at all the pretty blood.”

The changeling gave a one-legged buck that caught him in the shoulder. Fine grunted and caught the leg with one of his. He shifted his hold and twisted, putting the changeling in a leg lock. His hideous grin spread, if such was possible, and he began to bend the leg.

“Stop it!” The changeling tried to crawl away, leaving green streaks on the earth. “St-stop! Please! You can’t—”

Fine jerked his body; the leg bent backwards at the knee with a crunch.

The changeling shrieked.

Fleur turned around, dropped to her barrel and covered her ears and face as best she could. She forced down a sob as the changeling continued to scream. Her legs twitched with the urge to bolt, but Fleur refused to obey that instinct. Fine had warned her, and the logical part of her mind told her that she had to heed that warning.

The changeling began to plead for mercy. Fine laughed.

Don’t speak.

The pleas for mercy became cries for help. Fleur felt tears in her eyes.

Don’t cry.

The cries became indecipherable, reduced to hideous, gurgling moans.

And whatever you do…

Fine’s voice split the air: “More, more, more, more!”

Don’t run.

Fleur didn’t know how long she’d lain there, trembling and wishing she were somewhere else. The changeling’s screeches had brought forth older screams, screams that were more familiar to her. Screams of Sueño. She didn’t want to think or hear or see; she just wanted it all to end.

The noises eventually faded. Still, Fleur made no attempt to get up. In time the screams also vacated her mind. She shivered in the dirt, her breath coming in gasps, and very slowly removed her hooves from her ears. Strained breathing reached her. Slowly, anxiously, Fleur climbed to her hooves. It took time to build up her courage, but at last she turned around. She promptly retched, her throat constricting and a stinging pain in her chest.

The changeling was hardly recognizable. It was little more than a black lump oozing green. Its head had been smashed in, the jaw hanging loosely above shattered chitin and gore. Its limbs twisted at odd angles and its body had been torn open in several places. Fine’s knife remained stuck inside the ugly mass.

Fine was sitting with his back to both it and her. He trembled, his entire body rising and falling with his labored breaths. A mess of vomit decorated the ground next to him. Fleur didn’t dare move, lest she call his attention to her. Her eyes darted about, but she knew better than to flee now; he wouldn’t have any difficulty catching her.

Yet for all her fear, Fleur realized something: she was curious. After all the time they’d spent together, she’d come to believe that he was dangerous, but this? Though it might lead to her death, she had to know why Fine had done it. She opened her mouth, hesitated, closed it again.

This was insane. She had to find a way to—

She gasped and began to work her magic. Within a second the spell had been cast and the invisibility veil floated between them. He might not see her… and maybe he’d calm down? It was the only idea she had that seemed even remotely sound.

Fine’s horn shined. His knife pulled out of the changeling with a sickening squelch, then floated over to him. He turned to study it, giving Fleur a good look at his face. Gone was that terrible grin and those insane eyes. Now he appeared only tired and depressed, his shoulders sagged and his eyelids drooped. He reached up, his hoof smeared with green, and rubbed the flat of the blade.

“I’m sorry, Sugarcube,” he whispered. “That’s sixty-five.”

Fleur worked her lips. “F… F-Fine?”

He glance towards the sound of her voice, then turned away. The wire holding the knife slipped around his neck once more. “It’s alright. It’s safe… for another three weeks, anyway.”

She looked from him to the corpse and back. Her heart continued to pound in her chest. “W-why did you do that?”

“Because I’m a monster,” he whispered. “I’m sick in the head. I c-can’t stop.” He bent over and covered his face with trembling hooves. “Now do you understand, Fleur? You never should have c-come with me.”

Fleur tried to control her breathing. She closed her eyes and concentrated, her stomach steadying. When she opened her eyes, however, she spotted a piece of black flesh and had to cover her lips. She turned away and focused her eyes on the tent, just to have something else to look at. Even as she fought for control, however, her mind was running through everything she knew about Fine.

“So… why did you bring me along?”

He sighed. “You were going to come regardless.”

“You could have stopped me,” she whispered. “We both know that now.”

She waited for Fine to respond. Seconds passed. She shifted and dared to glance over her shoulder. He hadn’t moved, and he wasn’t looking at her.

“Fine, talk to me.”

He hunched down. “You should be running away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He raised his head. “Aren’t you scared?”

She chewed her lip and tried not to think of the mess just behind her. Instead she noted how she still had goosebumps, and that her heart still acted as a battering ram for her ribs. “I’m terrified.”

He turned at last, his moist eyes meeting hers despite the invisibility veil. “So why stay?”

She thought on the question, looking back on everything he’d told her since they’d left the castle. One line stood out, and she latched onto it. With the firmest, most determined look she could muster, she answered.

“Because I refuse to succumb to my fear.”

His lips parted slightly and his eyebrows rose. He stared in her general direction for some time, all sadness and anger and weariness gone from his face. What he held in his expression now was something she’d never seen in him before: wonder. Fleur had to lock her legs to keep from fidgeting under that gaze.

At last, Fine smiled. The sight broke her from her solid state, for it was a warm and gracious smile, the kind she imagined he’d never be able to have.

“That’s a good answer,” he said with a small nod.

Fleur blushed and glanced away, but that lead to her looking at the hideous lump between them. She felt her stomach heave and covered her lips, jerking about to face the tent once more. “S-so, this ‘illness’ of yours. Um… once every three weeks?”

“I’ve managed to push through the withdrawal symptoms for eight weeks before.” He shuddered. “I don’t intend to try that again.”

Withdrawal symptoms? She shook the stray thought away. “But you won’t be dangerous for three, right?”

“That’s the usual span of time, yes. It varies by a few days.”

“Alright, then.” She turned to look at him from the corner of her eye, the best way to avoid the mess. “What do we do now?”

Fine hadn’t lost that warm smile. “You’re a gutsy kid, you know that?”

She cringed as her stomach churned. “Please don’t talk about guts right now.”

His smile faded and he turned away. “Sorry. What now?” He stood and shook his hooves in a vain attempt to get rid of the blood. “Now we enter the caves and see if we can’t find some eggs.”

“The eggs?” Fleur stood and walked gingerly around the stains in the dirt, passing through the veil she'd formed. “What about Celestia? She could be in trouble.”

“She probably is,” Fine acknowledge, his expression now resolute. “Estéril Pezuñas is too far away, it’ll take days to get there by hoof. By the time we arrive, it will almost certainly be too late. I’ll send a letter to my boss warning him of the situation, but that’s the most we can do. Our job is to find those eggs; without them, we have no proof that Reddux and the changelings are framing Equestria for the sake of war.”

With a sigh, she came alongside him, her eyes drifting briefly to the ever-still sun. “I hope Celestia is okay.”

Fine snorted derisively. “If it was just her and her royal guards, I wouldn’t count on it. My boss is in the city, though, and he’s actually competent, so she’ll be fine.”

Fleur blinked. “You don’t think Celestia’s competent?”

“Not even remotely.” Fine looked at the blood on his chest and cringed. “I should probably take a quick dip in the lake; this stuff is gonna draw plenty of attention.”

She glanced at the nearby corpse and shivered. “I think I’ll go with you.”

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.” He turned and approached the cliffs surrounding the lake. “I think I saw a ledge we could climb up this way. Oh, and Fleur?”

She walked alongside him, but kept her distance. “Yes?”

His warm smile was back. “Thanks.”

She cocked her head. “For what?”

“Nothing.” He held his head high and moved at a trot. “Just thanks.”

She watched him move ahead with a perplexed frown. After a few seconds, she glanced back at the corpse. The sight of it threatened her stomach yet again, so she hurried to catch up. Though she didn’t know exactly what she was dealing with in Fine, she was prepared to go along with him. Even with this, he was still less of a monster than Daring Deeds.

After all, monsters don’t show remorse.

Author's Notes:

What's this, I'm updating on Super Bowl Sunday? Why yes, yes I am. Is that a bad move? Not according to the 'online users' counter down there.

How many of you forgot about the scene that introduced Fine in this story? Bet it makes a little more sense now, huh? Those of you who have read No Heroes will understand his situation far better than others.