“Do changelings make honey?”

Max nearly choked on her mouthful of boiled wild oats. After a brief fit of coughing, she looked across their smouldering campfire to give Daring Do a deadpan stare and drawled, “Do I even remotely resemble a bee?”

“Not now you don’t, but I’ve seen a few depictions of changelings.” Daring cracked a grin. “And I’m pretty sure even a foal can point out a few similarities.”

She raised an eyebrow and retorted, “Do pegasi puke to feed their kids?”

“No, that would be griffons.” Daring chuckled and took a sip of wild berry tea. “But I get your point. No honey, then.”

“Well, you did get the next best thing.” Grinning, Max stretched on the leafy forest floor and raised a foreleg. Spots of morning sunlight penetrated the canopy and danced on her male persona’s rugged, blue coat, and green flames danced around the hoof to reveal black chitin and a couple of pores. She waggled her eyebrows and added, “If you ever want another sample, just say the word!”

“Ugh. Nothing personal, but I’ll stick to stuff that isn’t someone else’s bodily fluids, thanks,” Daring said with a wince. She then gently blew on her steaming cup of tea – Max caught a whiff of wild berries in the steam – and then added thoughtfully, “Although… you might be able to start a business empire selling that stuff. It works better than any sleeping aid I’ve ever tried.”

“Looks like you could use one right about now,” Max said as Daring Do yawned widely.

Come to think of it, so could I…

They’d lost nearly a whole twenty-four hours recuperating deep in the woods just south of where they’d jumped off the train, which included sleeping throughout most of the next day, too. Come nightfall, they’d abandoned camp and set off to the southwest, running through the denser parts of the forest whenever they could to stay hidden from any watchful eyes in the sky. And in the places where they had to cross open grassland or rivers, at least they had the cover of darkness to reduce the chances of being seen.

Max hadn’t noticed any signs of Galleon’s followers tailing them, but she and Daring were quite sure that he would have set a few pegasus sentries at strategic locations on the way to the ruins in the deep southwest. Anything that reduced the odds of detection or interception meant more time to get their act together before the inevitable confrontation.

Whatever that’s going to involve.

She had no idea how the two of them were supposed to stop an entire cult on their own, let alone some ancient evil awakening in a long-forgotten city. Then again, if the books were anything to go by, Daring would figure something out once they saw it for themselves.

That pretty much left them with nothing to do but run, eat and sleep. And run they had. Almost non-stop, for the last ten hours or so.

Max could feel her muscles throbbing as she shifted to find a more comfortable place on the leaf litter with fewer sticks and stones.

Ouch. I’m gonna feel that in the evening.

In the absence of a proper bed, she would’ve preferred to sleep hanging upside down, just like she used to in the hive, but that would’ve been a dead giveaway that Daring’s unicorn companion was more than he seemed. It was way too early to show all their cards, so she just had to deal with it.

“You go on and get some shuteye first,” said Daring. She downed the last of her drink and rose, stretching like a cat. “I wanna forage for a bit.”

Max pushed through the onset of drowsiness and raised an eyebrow. “What’re you looking for?”

“Oh, important stuff,” she said, twirling a hoof vaguely. “Things like food, medicinal herbs, kindling, that sort of thing. I’ll need daylight to correctly identify some of them, because let me tell you, putting mashed warlock’s bloom on an open wound instead of sunbulb is an absolute nightmare.”

Max knew little of herbalism, so she just took her word for it and nodded. “Okay. Stay safe.”

“Right back at you. I’ll stay within earshot from camp. There should be plenty of what I need close by. Yell if anything goes wrong.”

“Noted.”

Just before nodding off, Max remembered to smother their campfire with dirt. The last thing they needed was a forest fire from stray embers.

Daring Do woke her up sometime around mid-afternoon to swap roles, and Max noticed a thin sheen of mashed plant matter over her cuts and bruises that smelled faintly of earth, mint and… something a little more pungent that reminded her of a very ripe bog in the heat of summer. She wrinkled her nose and would’ve suggested an alternative, but Daring’s absent-minded scowl at nothing in particular changed her mind, so she simply kept quiet and climbed into a tree to kept watch whilst Daring lay down in the shadiest spot and went to sleep.

She amused herself snapping twigs and whittling them down into imitations of quills and pens with varying degrees of success, wishing that she’d brought along a book to read or maybe some stationery and paper so she could work on her own stories in the meantime. Probably for the best, since it would’ve gone against the whole point of keeping watch for danger, but heck if it wasn’t all so boring. She’d even gone over Galleon’s stolen notes, but most of it went right over her head, and she’d already memorised most of the map and where their destination lay in relation to everything.

Eventually, she managed to work herself into a kind of mental torpor in which she just had enough alertness to notice animals coming and going, but with enough blankness to help speed up the passage of time.

By sunset, the sky had grown thick and heavy with rain-laden clouds just waiting to burst. Daring awoke to her slightest touch, and together they wordlessly broke camp and set off at a run in the deep shadows of the forest.

If they didn’t feel like chatting when they started running, the torrential rains that came down about half an hour later pretty much killed any further inclination they had for conversation. Thunder would effectively put any exchange of words to an abrupt end, and although the downpour did help to keep her cool from running so much, it made the forest floor treacherous with sticky mud and clumped detritus.

The leeches came out, too, but they much preferred her travel companion, and Daring Do had a rather miffed scowl on her face when she noticed a whole bunch of them twitching and dislodging themselves as soon as they got a taste of Max’s blood. She allowed herself a smirk as she used magic to pluck them off Daring’s hide whilst they ran.

Her muscles ached, but they maintained a steady pace as they traversed the woodlands. With some luck, the might cut down on the head start that Galleon had over them.

They came across a couple of docile bears along the way, which were apparently well-fed and too lazy to bother with them. Max had also sensed a wolf pack lurking around at one point, but they got through their territory quickly enough without incident.

The rain finally let up in the last couple of hours before dawn, and they settled down in a small but dense grove of chestnut trees. Daring started up a fire, using a scavenged bunch of hard sticks and fungi that produced a steady flame with very little smoke. Max, on the other hoof, performed a leisurely sweep of the area for animals or ponies, and to allow her pounding heart and gasping lungs to calm down. Finding none worth their attention, she returned to camp and saw that Daring had already gotten some water boiling in a tin pot and was busy cleaning up the salves she’d applied to her injuries.

Max collapsed onto the soft, leafy and most importantly, dry ground by the fire and sighed. Changelings normally didn’t get bothered by rain since water just slid off their chitin, but maintaining a soaked coat for hours really made for an awful night. Worse still, simply putting a little pressure on her ribs sent brief jolts of agony through them like nails; she hadn’t quite recovered from the pummelling she’d received from Wind Shear and Furlong.

By then, Daring had finished wiping her wounds clean with their limited supply of gauze, and just as she reached for her little jar of freshly-mashed poultice, Max cleared her throat and said, “It’ll be faster if you let me help.”

Daring paused and raised an eyebrow. “Does it involve changeling goo?”

“Uh… yes.”

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

Max squinted at the assortment of cuts, welts and bruises on Daring’s limbs, especially her wings. Most of the lacerations had lost their angry redness and turned a healthier shade of pink, the bruises didn’t look quite as dark as before, and new feathers had begun replacing the tattered ones. Daring clearly had a way with herbal first aid, but with all the running they’d done and were going to do, Max wouldn’t trust her wounds to stay closed all the way.

“I get it. Our secretions weird you out,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “but we also know that it speeds up healing more than anything short of a healing spell. And the resin will keep your wounds from splitting open again while we’re running. The sooner you can fly, the sooner we can reach this lost city and stop whatever Galleon’s up to.”

“Hmm…” Daring cast a sideways glance at her wings and fluttered them experimentally, then turned back to Max with a frown. “You know, I’m supposed to be the pragmatic one here, but you make a good point. So how does it work?”

Max tilted her head. “Uh… you just hold still while I remove those bandages and put stuff on your wounds. It’s not a magic ritual or anything.”

“Right, right.” Daring nodded sceptically and shrugged. “It’s just that there’ve been all sorts of stories going around since you guys attacked Canterlot. Apparently, there’s this professor who insists that contact with any fluids from a changeling is tantamount to a proposal, and some stallion found himself married to one of their top spies, and father to a few bug-pony foals after she laid her eggs in his stomach.”

“What?” Scowling, Max scanned her for any indication of deceit, but found none. She then had a fit of sniggering and said, “Okay, that’s got to be the best rumour I’ve ever heard. You sure that wasn’t supposed to be his draft of a horror novel based on us?”

“With that guy, it’s actually kinda hard to tell.” Daring grinned ruefully. “So… no side effects?”

“Course not.” With a snort, Max placed crossed a foreleg over her chest. “Cross my heart and blah, blah, blah. It doesn’t mean there’s anything between us and you’re not going to wake up as a changeling tomorrow or anything crazy like that. Just think of it as medicine you can get on site and on demand. Seriously, this can’t be worse than what you find in a spa; ponies pay big bits to put the weirdest things on their faces.”

“Actually, that’s a pretty good point…” Daring sighed and gingerly stripped off her torn shirt, revealing a few more ugly welts on her back that she couldn’t properly treat by herself. A couple of them oozed clear fluid.

Ouch.

Max winced sympathetically as she leaned in closer to sniff her wounds. None of them smelled infected, and Daring had done a pretty good job of keeping them relatively clean with what little they had, but she could do better. After getting a nod from Daring, she shifted her forelegs back into their natural forms and began applying ichor to her injuries, and sealing off any open wounds with sticky resin that would soon harden and dry into a protective layer. Once done with the untreated wounds, she moved on to remove the patches of gauze and bandages on Daring’s other injuries to repeat the process.

Whilst she worked, Daring craned her neck back and gave her a sideways glance. “Hey, while you’re at it, care to fill me in on the full extent of your transformation powers? I’d like to know what you’re capable of before we tangle with Galleon again.”

Max blinked a couple of times. Transforming was such an integral part of changeling adulthood that she’d never really thought about how best to describe it. It would be like asking a pony what they’re capable of in terms of breathing.

“That’s pretty general. Where do I start?” she asked.

“I dunno, you tell me. How about…” Daring shrugged and held a hoof out several inches above head height. “How big can you get? Can you disguise yourself as a puddle or squeeze through tiny holes like jelly?”

“Hah. I wish. There are serious limits on what we can do. The further we go from something pony-shaped and of equal mass to our basic form, the harder it is to do and maintain.” Max then gestured at her muscular body and continued, “This guy’s my upper limit. Any bigger and I’ll have to cut corners somewhere just to avoid burning out, like making him lighter than a stallion his size should weigh. Or the opposite – I can turn into a foal, but it’ll be so dense that I’ll sink like a stone in water.”

Daring nodded. “Makes sense. Is that the standard?”

“Heh. I’m above average.” Max grinned for a moment, then soured up when she remembered Thorax. “I’ve got a brother who can turn himself into a rock the size of a pumpkin, but that level of talent’s wasted on him. Little grub’s afraid of his own shadow.”

“Pity. He might’ve been a useful teammate.”

Max thumped her on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m plenty good enough for what we need to do! Trust me, he’d be useless in a fight.”

Daring Do chuckled.

Max paused in her ministrations and frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s actually nice to see that even changelings have sibling rivalry.”

“When something like ninety-five percent of us have the same mother, that’s pretty much the only kind of rivalry we can have.” Max rolled her eyes and snorted. “Also, rivalry? With him? Please. I’ve got dozens of siblings who hate my guts and might actually present a credible threat to my safety, but he isn’t one of them.”

Slowly, Daring turned around with a cocked eyebrow and knowing smirk. “You’re not actually worried that I’m going to treat you like a disposable sidekick, right? You almost sound like a teacher’s pet jealously protecting his status.”

“Have you even met any of your fans?” Max gave her a half-lidded stare. “There are ponies who’d love nothing more than to snip off a lock of your hair to display in a glass case or steal one of your clothes to sniff and cuddle like their blankie when they go to bed. Not that I’m into any of that… but you get the idea.”

Daring scoffed. “As opposed to ponies who have attempted to exsanguinate me, actually used my blood for summoning eldritch horrors and tried to carve out chunks of my liver to feed to their interdimensional pets? Please, most of my fans are pretty tame in comparison.”

“Yeah, well, just let me have this, okay?”

“Hah! Sure. Just… try not to centre your whole life on what I do.” A grave tone seeped into her words as her smile faded. “I mean, I have no idea what a healthy changeling lifestyle is supposed to look like—”

“Tending to hundreds of ponies in stasis pods and harvesting their love daily for consumption,” Max deadpanned.

Daring blinked a couple of times. “I see… But since you look like you fancy living like a pony, I’m just saying that there’s more to life than obsessing over me.”

“Sounds like something AK Yearling would say. She’s not as cool with fans as you are.”

“Familiarity breeds contempt, as they say.”

Max felt another scowl coming on as she probed Daring’s emotional output, but she didn’t seem to mean it as an insult. Besides, maybe she did have a point; the more time she spent in the hive, the more frequently she wanted to punch someone in the muzzle.

“What’s your deal with AK Yearling, anyway? Does she pay you royalties?”

“A fat bunch,” Daring said with a glint in her eyes.

Max thought she’d sensed a bit of crafty mirth leaking from her as well, but she had masked her emotions pretty well, and the moment had already passed, so she filed that thought away for later and said, “So that’s how you really fund your research, huh? You must be loaded with bits.”

“Uh, not exactly,” said Daring with a shake of her head. “Miss Yearling has a crazy-good lawyer, and insurance costs a bomb, what with all the stuff I usually end up breaking. Funding schools isn’t a trot in the park, either.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Schools?”

“Of course! The more literate the population, the more potential readers there are for my series, and therefore more bits. But more importantly, influence. Colts and fillies – and apparently tonnes of grown-ups, too – practically worship fictional me already. Daring Do could probably declare herself empress of Equestria, and half the population will go along with it.” Daring raised both forelegs skyward and cackled. “And one day, when I choose to reveal myself, even the princesses will pale in comparison to my power. Muahahaha!”

The heck?

Max surreptitiously threw a glance at Daring’s saddlebags, searching for any strange plants or mushrooms that she might’ve eaten.

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she resumed tending to Daring’s wounds and mumbled, “Yeah, you really should’ve been born a changeling. You would’ve conquered Equestria ages ago. Heck, if you were my mother, I might never even entertain the thought of overthrowing you.”

“Heh heh. If your queen ever wants a consultation, tell her to send me a letter.”

Daring sighed and arched her back, flexing her foreleg and waving it around to test its full range of motion. The patches of drying resin stretched with her wounds, but didn’t break or leak fluid. Her eyes widened as she said, “Dang. These feel pretty good. I don’t feel like a mummy at all. Will they come off on their own?”

“Uh, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

Max scratched the back of her neck as she eyed the sparse strands of coat stuck to the edges of the resinous patches. “Well… yeah, they’ll eventually come off like normal scabs, but they’ll probably take a lot of stuck hair with them because they’re pretty tough. Unless…”

A raised eyebrow. “Yes?”

“This resin is usually for… restraining ponies – something you can add to our checklist of tricks, by the way – but our saliva dissolves it. It’ll make it less painful to remove if you want them off early, but I’m not sure you’ll want any changelings drooling on you.”

“Or over me, for that matter,” Daring murmured.

Max pretended not to hear.

Instead, she concentrated on patching up the last of Daring’s wounds. By then, most of the morning fog had lifted, and the sky had turned a light blue, with shafts of golden light blazing through the eastward gaps in the trees. Birds had come out in full song, and there was something rather picturesque of the grove with Daring Do sitting on her haunches, with her back to a strapping unicorn stallion.

Peering downward, she could see the wiry musculature underneath Daring’s coat that spoke of years of either hard labour or strenuous exertion. She put a hoof on one particularly gnarly knot of muscle and almost winced at how hard and tense it felt.

A stray thought occurred to her.

Should I?

She kneaded it gently.

Almost instantly, the muscle loosened up with a twitch, and a tiny sigh escaped Daring Do.

What the hay. I might as well.

Max ran both hooves systematically across Daring’s back, searching for more knots. Daring’s ears perked up as she did so, but she said nothing whilst Max worked on pressing and squeezing the tension out of her stiff muscles. A moment later, she even started leaning into Max’s hooves, with the tempo of her breathing wavering between soft hisses, sharp intakes and slow exhales to match the kneading of her hooves. Max could taste whiffs of relief, gratitude and even a little bit of pleasure leaking through Daring’s mask of impassivity.

Hayseed, the fanservice practically writes itself…

“Valiant.”

Not that she was above such things…

“Valiant Dawn.”

With a start, Max ealised that Daring had been calling her by her persona’s name.

“Uh, yes?”

“I’m going to kick your flank into Tartarus for starting this without warning.”

Max froze. Daring’s words had been delivered with all the casualness of one commenting on the weather, with the finality of a statement rooted in fact and not conjecture or wishful thinking. If she could sweat like a pony, she probably would’ve started dripping like an overfilled sponge right there.

“Then again, since you’re not half bad at this…” Daring reached around with a foreleg and pointed at the small of her back. “Right there. Get it.”

Wondering if it was just a trick, Max gingerly prodded the area and found a particularly hard bunch of muscle. Working the tension out of it took a little more strength, which had the side effect of sending a shiver up Daring’s spine.

“Ooh, yeah. That’s the spot,” Daring moaned as her wings quivered.

This is getting weird.

With a heavy sigh, Daring got to all fours and turned to give Max a critical scowl. “Okay, was that a cultural thing or your own idea?”

Max chuckled nervously. “Sorry. Had a brain fart.”

“Is that so?” Daring raised an eyebrow, then popped her joints as she stretched in place. A grin then split her face as she playfully punched Max in the shoulder. “Relax, big guy. I won’t kick your flank for overstepping your bounds so long as not a word of this gets out to the masses. Daring Do doesn’t melt when massaged.”

“Duly noted,” Max said with a weak nod.

“But seriously, try not to do that again.” Daring waggled single wing feather at her. “Let’s keep this professional, eh?”

That ship has probably sailed…

But Max kept her mouth shut as they went about the next task of foraging for food and water. After a quiet meal of berries and lightly-roasted chestnuts, they tidied up and doused the fire. The sun had risen well into the clear sky, which would practically eliminate any chance of stealth the moment they left the forest. They needed to be well-rested to resume running the moment it dipped back below the horizon.

The following night was pretty much the same routing of covering as much distance as possible while the darkness favoured them. They ran, ate, slept and kept a watchful eye out for predators and Galleon’s lackeys.

On the next sundown, the fifth evening after counting the train ride as their first day out, Max found herself woken by a somewhat annoyed Daring Do. It looked to be sometime just before dusk, with the sun still piercing the canopy with a few orange rays. But before she could ask about it, Daring hushed her with a sweep of her wing and motioned for her to get moving. She did so without complaint, knowing that something must’ve spooked her to silent urgency.

They set off at a canter and went westward for several minutes before they reached a dense thicket to hide in. After they’d hunkered down in the shadows, Daring said, “Just got dragon mail. Needed to relocate in case somepony had spotted the trail of fire.”

Max nodded. That makes sense.

Daring then tossed her a rolled-up scroll. “Take a look.”

Dear DD,

This letter is private and confidential, and is meant for your eyes alone. What you choose to do with the information I am about to disclose is up to you, but I can assure you that it is of the utmost importance.

A substantial gap of empty paper followed the first paragraph. Max glanced at Daring Do, who then motioned for her to continue and said, “Go on. I’ve read the whole thing already.”

Max nodded and unrolled it until she hit the next paragraph.

It was not easy, but I was able to acquire a damaged sample of one of those artefacts you mentioned, and I accidentally found something that it responded to.

The artefacts emit traces of light when in close proximity to changelings, and if my calculations are correct, they gain full functionality upon physical contact with one. The exact mechanism by which it does so currently eludes me, and I cannot discern their function without access to a complete relic, but I can say for sure that my rigorous experiments with the sample and a certain acquaintance of mine point to one conclusion:

Your partner is most likely a changeling.

I do not know how familiar you are with the species, but they are shapeshifters that excel at subterfuge and feed on the positive emotions of their victims. Most of them have been reformed very recently – both in cultural and physical aspects, fascinatingly – and are very nice now; my acquaintance is one of them. They’ll never pose a national threat again, probably, but individual ponies are still vulnerable to those clinging to their less savoury traditions.

If you have been feeling weak, irritable, depressed or confused for the past few days, then your partner is most likely the cause of it. Subterfuge and numbers are their biggest strengths, so if she is alone, you should be able to deal with her if she becomes hostile for any reason.

If you have been feeling any romantic inclinations, I would strongly advise getting some distance away from her to clear your head. It is not real.

Be careful, and good luck.

On the off chance that you are aware of the nature of your partner and have taken measures to ensure that she is sincerely working with you, then I apologise for being a bit of an alarmist. You never know, you know?

Max lifted her eyes from the letter and raised an eyebrow at Daring Do. “So… have you been feeling any romantic inclinations recently?”

“After you tried to skip a couple of steps yesterday?” Daring threw her head back and laughed. “Not a chance! But hey, at least we have solid confirmation that we’re on the right track. Finish it.”

On another note, you might be interested in knowing that your adversary is stepping up his game. There were several break-ins and thefts at universities and museums across Equestria in the past few days. Worse still, they were quite brazen about it, using sheer force and speed to overwhelm security. A couple of royal guards were even injured by the use of explosives and other weapons in the University of Canterlot.

If things start looking like you might need support, just send word and I will do what I can to dispatch a squad of guards to your location. I might even join in if timing permits and if you would have me.

Good luck!

Your friend,

TS

PS: I was TS’s assistant for testing those relic fragments. She has introduced me to your books. I think I like them, and I would love to meet you one day.

A hopeful future friend,

Tx

Max scowled at the second set of initials. Apparently, one of her siblings had just up and decided to get all close and friendly with Public Enemy Number One of the hive. Worse still, it sounded like most of the hive had gone along with it and made nice with ponies. That is, if Twilight was telling the truth. She knew that ponies had other ways of ‘reforming’ anyone who didn’t agree with their way of getting all warm and fuzzy.

Oh, hayseed. It can’t be him…

Then again, he would be the first to get in line to kiss up to the ponies. And the letters fit, too.

It’s him, isn’t it?

“Something the matter?” Daring asked.

“Eh?” She looked up from the letter and saw Daring’s brow creased with concern. “Nah, it’s nothing.”

“You sure about that?” Daring glanced at the letter, then locked eyes with Max. “Sounds like things have been rough for your folks back home. Civil war or revolution, maybe even another battle with Equestria?”

“Either way, don’t care.” Max shook her head and stared off into the distance, taking in the sights of the endless forest in the fading light of dusk. She then chuckled. “Wanna know a secret?”

Daring sat down on her haunches by Max’s side. “Sure.”

“I got exiled because I read your books and kept a whole collection of them hidden in the hive.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Got accused of being a pony spy. As in, an actual pony disguised as a changeling, instead of a changeling acting as a double-agent for ponies.”

Daring blinked a couple of times. “Uh… okay. Wow.”

“Yeah. That’s my family.” Max grinned. “Changelings are stupid, too.”

“You know, that could be taken both ways,” Daring said with a half-frown, “but you’re probably right. So what’s eating at you?”

Before answering, Max dug a hoof into the soft earth and ploughed up a sizable chunk of dirt, revealing a half dozen tiny bugs and a couple of earthworms. They squirmed and skittered in the loose dirt and leaf litter, desperately trying to hide from the sudden exposure to cold air and light. She casually flicked up a beetle before it could burrow away, and it bounced a couple of times before it landed squarely on its back and wiggled its legs in a futile attempt to right itself.

They’ll never pose a national threat again, huh?

“Dunno. Depends on what exactly Twilight Sparkle means by reformed, the circumstances of said reformation, and how many of us were affected. Something feels off about the whole thing,” said Max, holding hoof over the beetle as if to squash it. “I’ve never really thought about what I’d do if I ever found myself the last of a dying culture. Or even species, because it sounds like the hive got its flank kicked extra hard this time. It’s… kinda sad. On the other hoof, maybe everyone just decided to pony up even harder than what I’ve been doing, and suddenly I’m not such a special snowflake of a rebel anymore. I don’t know which I’d find more annoying, and I don’t like being this unsure of my feelings. It sucks.”

A moment of silence stretched between them before Daring spoke again.

“Well, while you’re sorting it out, you can distract yourself by being stupid with this pony,” she said conspiratorially, wrapping a wing around Max’s shoulder. “Because we’ve got a whole doomsday cult to stop, and we’re gonna have do it without any backup. I need you functioning at a hundred percent for that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No backup?”

“I’ve got no dragonfire to send a message back, and I’m not sure if mail service even exists out here. Besides, Galleon took the first stone you activated, so it’s going to be a tight race to get there before he does something we’ll all regret.”

Max considered it for a moment. Then, she grinned and stuck her hoof out. “No one ever said I was great at sharing. I’ll take all the stupid glory I can get.”

Daring grinned back and bumped hooves with her, then rose to all fours and squared her shoulders. “Clock’s ticking. Time to move.”

Halfway through the motion of rising up after her, Max paused to look at the still-struggling beetle. After watching it flail its legs around for a couple of seconds, she sighed and lazily flipped it right side up again. It scurried off to hide under dead twigs and leaves.

Well, this bug isn’t done yet.

By Max’s reckoning, the change in landscape had been pretty gradual for the past few nights. The prevalence of pines and deciduous trees had lessened the farther southwest they went, and they were encountering fewer and smaller stretches of grassland that pockmarked the forest.

However, this particular leg of their journey brought a rather abrupt change in scenery. After just a couple hours’ worth of running, Max noticed the forest rapidly giving way to dense jungle. Towering pines had all but vanished, and she only recognised a few beeches, oaks and elm here and there, surrounded by broad-leafed tropical evergreens draped in tangled masses of vines, creepers and ferns. Snakes slithered around in the thick undergrowth, and at one point, they even had to take to the air for a short while to avoid a manticore that they’d startled to furious wakefulness.

The warmth and cloying humidity didn’t bother her too much, but she could see that Daring had slowed down considerably, panting like a dog with a soaked coat. The absence of wind only made it worse, and they had to take breaks every now and then to rest and cool off.

A couple of hours before dawn, they came across strips of land where the trees thinned out considerably, allowing them a clear view of the mountains looming up ahead on the south-western horizon. Much of the soil was exposed there, and at first, Max took it as the result of some huge monster’s rampage. But after spotting swaths of vegetation sheared off at the stems, she realised that they had entered farmland. Rather haphazard and small by pony standards, but farmland nonetheless, as confirmed when they found uniform rows of seedlings and unusual vegetables farther in, growing serenely in the moonlight.

Max had not sensed the presence of sapient emotions aside from Daring’s muted output, and they hadn’t yet seen any lights or dwellings, but it was obvious from the lack of weeds that someone was tending to the land.

They slowed to a cautious trot and kept to the shadows, but Max couldn’t shake off a creeping anxiety that someone was watching or following them. Unlike the rune stone in Daring’s saddlebag, whose whispers she had learnt to ignore in the past few days, this new presence felt like it occupied a spot somewhere between instinct and imagination.

She caught Daring’s attention with a soft hiss and whispered, “Careful. I don’t like this place.”

Daring swept her gaze around the plantation and perked her ears. All around them, the jungle sang with the chirping of insects and occasional squeaks and squeals of larger animals. Eventually, she whispered back, “Are we in danger?”

“Can’t tell.”

Daring took another look, then pointed at a crude irrigation channel dug into the soft ground a few metres ahead. “I don’t like it either, but we’re running out of water, and that might lead us to a potable source. We’ll check it out and get lost real quick.”

“Okay.”

It turned out that a series of irrigation channels kept the crops watered, and they all led to a narrow stream with surprisingly rocky banks. Max didn’t think much of them at first, but she’d sated her thirst with the crystal-clear water, she realised that many of those ‘rocks’ had sharp angles and flat surfaces. Those might’ve once been part of a platform or low wall, or even steps.

Ruins.

“That’s the last one,” said Daring as she stoppered up a dripping-wet canteen. “Let’s go before—”

The sharp crack of a dry branch split the night, echoing in the darkness.

They froze in place, searching the darkness for the culprit.

A couple of seconds later, Max heard an eerie, whistling call of some night bird she didn’t recognise. The trees and bushes on the river bank rustled with activity, and before they could act, a semicircle of torches flared to life in rapid succession around them, blinding her with bright, yellow flames.

“—well… shoot,” Daring finished lamely.

As Max’s eyes adjusted to the light, the blobby shadows holding the torches gradually sharpened into six figures of varying shapes and height. Three of them were earth stallions, one looked like a diamond dog, and two were hulking minotaurs. All males, too, judging by their heavy musculature. They each held a torch in hand, paw or mouth, and in their other hand the three bipedals held tools like an axe or sickle that glinted in the firelight.

How the heck did I miss them?

Stepping forward, one of the minotaurs raised his torch high and uttered a string of melodic syllables that somehow didn’t clash with his deep, guttural voice. Max didn’t recognise any of the words, but he’d delivered them with a cautious tone rather than confrontational, and he’d kept a relaxed grip on his sickle the whole time, so she guessed that they probably weren’t in danger.

Yet.

That was good.

Less good was the fact that she could not pick up on their emotions at all. Daring Do might’ve kept her mental guard up around Max most of the time, but every now and then, she regularly tasted the gist of her emotional undercurrent beneath that mask. The minds of these jungle folk, on the other hoof, felt just about as lively as statues to her. Tasteless, colourless and utterly inconsequential to her hunger, like lower life forms.

And yet, they clearly showed as much intelligence and sophistication as anyone else. One of the stallions looked jittery as a mouse compared to his companions. The minotaurs both had their eyes wide and mouths slightly open with reserved delight, like explorers who’d just discovered something nopony had ever seen before, and the diamond dog wore the scowl of someone none too pleased at being woken up from a pleasant nap. In all likelihood, they owned and worked the land Max and Daring stood on, and judging by the similar tribal markings all over their limbs and torsos, had their own culture to boot.

Heck, even the little rune stone felt more alive to her senses than they did.

“Sorry. We don’t speak that language,” Daring said as she stepped out of the stream.

When her words were met with confused stares, she swapped to something that sounded like Zebrican. That didn’t result in comprehension, either, and so Daring began cycling through a series of phrases in various languages that Max barely even recognised. Each one was met with the same blank looks, until the leading minotaur strapped his sickle to his belt and held up a hand to stall her with an polite but firm smile.

Daring ceased her attempts at communication with a sigh, then shrugged when she met Max’s eyes.

The minotaur said a few words to the diamond dog, who then responded with a grunt and stepped forward to face them. Upon closer inspection, Max noted that his lanky stature and long, sharp muzzle more closely resembled a wolf than a dog, and he wore no collar. No jewellery of any sort, either.

“Pohnees, yas?” he rasped, working his jaw and tongue as if tasting something unsavoury.

“Yes.” Daring nodded. “We’re just here to—”

“No!” The diamond dog cut her off with a firm shake of his head. “Not I. Fahlow now. Find… good speeker than I.”

“Right. Lead the way, then,” said Daring with as she dipped her head and made a forward motion with a hoof.

If the words didn’t get the message across, her polite gesture certainly did.

They went more or less in the same direction that Max and Daring had originally taken, moving at a leisurely pace.

The three stallions took the lead, whilst the diamond dog flanked them and the minotaurs marched in the rear of their formation. Every now and then, one of the stallions would throw a nervous glance at Max; the minotaurs in comparison had far more confidence in their safety, if their rather animated chatter was anything to go by. At one point, Max saw one of them making flapping motions with his hands whilst giving Daring’s back a sideways glance, as if debating on the likelihood of her ability to fly.

Have these guys seriously never seen a pegasus or unicorn before?

“You once mentioned something about being able to pick up on emotions,” Daring whispered to Max whilst they walked. “I don’t think they mean us harm, but do you feel otherwise?”

“Something’s wrong,” Max whispered back with a shake of her head. “I can’t get a read on them. If I were blind and deaf, I wouldn’t even think that they were anywhere nearby. It’s freaky.”

“Huh. Neat.”

Max scowled at her.

Daring chuckled softly. “No offense. We can talk about it later.”

After about ten minutes of walking, they started seeing clusters of wooden huts in small clearings interspersed between clumps of trees and bushes. The ground also had fewer tree roots snaking around, and chunks of weathered stonework dotted the area, many of which had sunken into the earth. But farther in, they found a greater number of huts along with more substantial ruins that actually resembled walls, pillars and even a couple of broken arches. It was hard to discern their exact colouration in the moonlight, but nearly all of the stonework had the same black sheen as the little rune stone in Daring’s saddlebag.

Incidentally, the thing was still calling to her, and rather insistently in the last couple of minutes. She shivered when she felt its cold claws and whispers stroking the inside of her brain. She almost wanted to simply grab Daring Do and make a run for it.

Hang in there. It’s just a stupid rock. It can’t hurt you…

Save for their escorts and a few huts with smoking chimneys and dim light flickering from their windows, the whole village was fast asleep.

Just then, one of the stallions broke away from their group and went ahead at a gallop, presumably to notify someone in charge. When they finally caught up, they found themselves in a village square of sorts, with a circular stone platform in the middle that stood several inches above the ground and spanned roughly a dozen metres across. Unlike the loose cobblestones and trampled earth elsewhere, the stonework looked quite solid despite extensive weathering and the odd root bursting out of a crack or patch of dirt here and there.

Three figures stood in the middle of the platform. Max recognised the first pony from their group, whispering something in the ear of a grizzled, wizened earth stallion, with a long beard and thinning mane. He wore a simple headdress of woven reeds and small bones, and his markings looked far more intricate than his younger companion’s. Another diamond dog stood next to them, this one female and bent over with age. Unlike the others, she had only two or three bands of tribal markings on her right arm.

Their escort stopped and kept a respectful distance from the trio in the square, but one of the minotaurs nudged Max and Daring forward until they stood on the edge of the platform itself. The elderly stallion then beckoned them over with an easy smile and a few words in the local dialect.

“Chief Tilga welcomes you to our village,” said the diamond dog by his side in a thick accent. “I’m Carat, and I will speak Equestrian for him.”

“We’re honoured,” said Daring Do, inclining her head slightly.

“You’re from Equestria, aren’t you?” Max asked.

Waves of sour-yellow suspicion and annoyance radiated from Carat as she narrowed her eyes and growled, “Yes. But we are here to discuss your presence, not my history. Chief Tilga will begin.”

At Carat’s nod, Tilga smiled and spoke, pausing every now and then to allow her to translate.

“We have seen many outsiders like you crossing our land and going to the mountains, swiftly as the wind. The other chiefs say that many amongst them are violent, rude and care not for the living green of the world. They answer to no call but their own, and have been seen stealing crops and tools. You however, have at least shown some care in traversing our land, and therefore have been granted safe passage for now.”

Tilga’s brow creased, and his eyes hardened.

“Answer truthfully. Do you seek treasures in the mountains and beyond? Many have come and returned with nothing. Some are never seen again, for monsters lurk in the darkness beyond our borders.”

Max shared a look with Daring.

“These ponies you’ve seen are most likely the ones we’re following. They say that they’re searching for some ancient pony of great power,” Daring replied. She paused for Carat to translate it, and when the chief remained stony-faced, she continued, “We’re not sure if they’re telling the truth, but these ponies have been known to cause a lot of trouble for everyone back home, so whatever the case, we intend to stop them from achieving their goals. If they succeed, they might even pose a danger to you and the other villages.”

Whilst the chief thoughtfully pulled at his beard, listening to Carat’s translation, Max discreetly scraped at the platform’s black stonework beneath her hooves. Some of the surfaces had straight grooves and curving striations that suggested an intentional pattern rather than random wear and tear throughout the ages. She just needed to clear some of the dirt to get a clearer look…

“Valiant!”

“Eh?” Max tore her eyes away from the ground and found Daring Do scowling at her.

“Come on, don’t zone out on me.”

Whoops.

She’d already missed the chief’s response.

Not her fault, though. Between the foreign chatter of the jungle folk and the whispers in her skull, she found it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation when she had a mystery sitting right beneath her hooves. Something massive, ancient and maybe a little terrifying. She just knew that it held a great deal of promise…

“I understand. You have no reason to trust us, and I can’t prove that we’re telling the truth right now,” said Daring. “But what’s the harm in letting us go after them? As you’ve said: at best, we come back empty-hooved, and at worst, we’re never heard from again. Either way, we’ll be out of your manes.”

Chief Tilga gave them a sad smile and shook his head.

“All life is precious, even if it unwittingly pursues its doom. I would sooner send you home angry and disappointed than allow you to cause your family grief. Go back. The mountains hold nothing worth dying for,” Carat translated. Once done, she snorted and growled, “He’s right. Be smart and turn back. Let those ponies waste their time. In his life, Chief Tilga has seen five expeditions sacrifice everything and still fail to find anything of value. He is doing you a favour.”

Daring Do let her breath whoosh out, and Max tasted a smidgen of exasperation leaking from her. She stepped forward and raised her voice slightly to respond, but Max didn’t hear her words. One of her hooves had lifted away from a pattern with tapering grooves pointing away from a central depression that looked suspiciously like a diamond dog’s paw. Or maybe a tiny dragon’s.

She took a couple of steps over to Daring’s former spot, and on a whim, placed her hoof directly on the depression where the owner’s palm would be.

The instant she touched the cold surface, the voices rose to a familiar crescendo and the world vanished.

Max found herself rising, rising, rising. Higher than the trees and hills. Maybe high enough to reach the clouds. In her mind, she could see the lay of the land like a cartographer’s rudimentary scribbling for miles around her position, with varying degrees of black and grey to distinguish geographical features. Faint, greenish lines snaked across the land like veins, forming a vast network that connected clusters of light to one another. The largest cluster by far lay somewhere in the mountains; it glowed like a bonfire compared to the fireflies everywhere else.

She didn’t get to enjoy the light show for long.

A prickling sensation at the back of her neck forced her to tear her eyes away from the spectacle below, and she stiffened when she saw thousands of shadowy figures surrounding her in the dark space she floated in, stretching to infinity. Despite her inability to make out their exact features, they reminded her of the Master that she’d encountered whenever she touched the rune stone, except that they did not speak, and they did not have the same force of personality as the Master. They felt more like those portraits in old castles that were a little too lifelike, with eyes that followed you wherever you went. A dark council of sorts, watching and judging.

Max flattened her ears as their invisible eyes appraised her every strand of hair, every inch of skin, every iota of disappointing inadequacy. She’d made the mistake of entering their presence still disguised as Valiant Dawn, a mere pony.

This isn’t me.

Max frantically tore into her foreleg with her teeth. Her disguise ripped away in pieces like wet, inky pulp that dissolved into smoke, revealing familiar chitin beneath. She worked feverishly, like a rabid animal twisting and flailing on the ground as it tore its own hide off. Eventually, the last repulsive scrap of coat and skin sloughed off, and she stood tall and proud before the dark council, a fully-fledged changeling.

But within seconds, Max felt as if her limbs had turned to jelly under the weight of their combined gaze. Their disdain still tasted foul and rotten, black as pitch. She did not belong. And yet, she could not find the will to hide or flee.

This isn’t me.

Trembling, Max raised her foreleg again and bared her fangs.

Wait, this is wrong…

And yet, ripping into her foreleg had never felt so right. Her chitin cracked and blazed with flame at the broken edges, crumbling to dust and green cinders that floated away in the wind. And beneath them she saw—

“Damnation, Max, snap out of it!”

Max heard a sharp crack and felt the world swing sideways. She tilted severely but managed to stop herself from toppling over at the last moment.

“Wha?” she slurred as she rubbed her smarting cheek.

Each blink brought back another little piece of the world, starting with the platform beneath her hooves. The grooves and striations glowed with the same eerie, green light as the little rune stone in Daring’s saddlebag, spreading across the entire platform, forming a pattern strikingly similar to the lights that she’d seen in her mind trip.

It’s a map…

Next, she noticed that only she and Daring remained on the glowing platform. The locals surrounded them with their torches tipped towards her, as if to fend her off like some wild animal, and all of them except the chief had some weapon or tool drawn whilst they whispered or muttered under their breaths to one another. The minotaurs and diamond dogs had wary frowns on their faces, but the ponies stared with wide eyes and their ears flattened back. Only Tilga had retained his steady composure, watching in silence.

Daring circled the edge of the platform like a trapped fish, with a nervous smile on her face and her wings held up to forestall any action as she met their eyes one after another and said, “Just—just take it easy for a minute, okay? He’s an associate of mine and doesn’t mean any harm. And I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for the lightshow.”

The heck is she on about? Why is everyone looking at me?

Max groaned. A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes, and her brain felt a couple of sizes too big for her skull. Her wings twitched and buzzed as she scrunched her eyes tight and massaged her forehead, but it did little to relieve the pressure. She then opened her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw right through the hole in her foreleg. Her teeth felt sharp, and a quick look downward told her that the rest of her body had reverted to their chitinous forms as well.

“T’chaak,” she muttered in her scratchy voice.

Some of the jungle folk collectively took a step back whilst someone behind Max uttered a sharp expletive, immediately followed by a whooshing sound.

Quick as lightning, Daring Do leapt towards her just as she whirled around to face it, and Max yelped when she saw an axe flying towards her neck. Just before the glinting edge connected, Daring deflected it with a powerful kick and sent it tumbling into a shrub.

“Okay, let’s not do that again.” Daring stood protectively in front of Max with her wings spread wide and glared at the male diamond dog who’d thrown the axe. He looked somewhat surprised, and when his tail drooped and he mumbled something in an apologetic tone, she continued, “Yeah, yeah, we’re all on edge. No harm no foul, but can we please get some non-violent communication going? Tilga? Carat? Lend me a hoof, here!”

Chief Tilga barked out a few stern words to the villagers, which at least got them to settle into less aggressive postures. They didn’t put away their tools or weapons, though. After exchanging a few words with the diamond dog who’d attempted to open Max’s neck, he then addressed them directly.

Whilst he spoke in their native tongue, Daring leaned close to Max and whispered, “Be ready to fly.”

She didn’t feel up to the task of using words with that headache, so she settled for a curt nod.

By then, Tilga had finished speaking, and Carat stepped forth to convey the message. “Kaal is sorry for his fearfulness; he will not attack you again unless commanded. I do not know if you are monsters or spirits, but if you spoke true and have no interest in our lands, then hurry and be on your way. Whether to the mountains or back to the north, I do not care. Keep away from my people and our homes, and no harm will come to you. Do you understand?”

“Loud and clear, chief. We’ll be out of here in no time.” Daring Do bowed, then nudged Max and gave her a pointed look.

Oh, right.

Bowing only aggravated her splitting headache, but Max simply grit her teeth and murmured, “Yes, we’re leaving.”

“Then go swiftly.”

Daring crouched low and leapt into the air with a powerful downward thrust of her wings. Good thing that enough of her damaged feathers had been replaced with healthy ones in the past few days for sustained flight. Max followed suit, but with significantly less speed as her diaphanous wings had trouble beating with the proper rhythm. Moments after her hooves had left the surface of the platform, the glowing patterns dimmed rapidly until the stone looked black and inert.

She found Daring hovering about a hundred tail-lengths above the platform and mutely waved her off when she tried to make a fuss about her wobbly flight. With one last look at the awed and/or fearful natives below, they set off towards the mountains together at the fastest pace Max could manage.

The farther they went from the village, the lesser the throbbing in her skull, and her coordination improved with every passing minute. Thankfully, the sky had a decent amount of clouds to keep them hidden from the ground, and a gentle tail wind meant that she didn’t have to fight to stay on course.

Once they’d put about a mile between them and that stupid platform, Max released a tremendous sigh. “Hayseed, I think I need a drink.”

“You’re telling me. Those guys totally flipped out when you went whoosh with the green fire.” Daring wiped imaginary sweat off her brow and shook her head. “Came close to giving me a heart attack, and I still had to keep them from going berserk until you woke up. At least they didn’t seem to know what a changeling is, or things might’ve gotten real messy. Sorry about hitting you, by the way.”

“Nah, you did me a favour.” Max chuckled and gave her a half-hearted grin. “I’ll be sure to repay you someday.”

Daring fished a canteen out of her saddlebag and smiled as she tossed it to Max. "Here. It's not the kind of drink you're asking for, but it's better than nothing."

Max downed a quarter of the fresh water in there, then passed it back. "Cheers."

Daring took a swig as well and then stowed the canteen, saying, “What happened? That thing back there, it was a map, wasn’t it?”

Max blinked and tilted her head. “You knew?”

“Educated guess. Saw the patterns, but wasn’t exactly the best time to point it out, you know?”

“Right.”

Max went silent for a moment, savouring the cool caress of the air. She missed travelling like this. Most of the sky was still dark indigo, but the eastern horizon at their backs had already brightened to an azure blue. The sun would soon come up, and they’d probably have to fly under the jungle canopy to avoid detection if the clouds dispersed. They were too close to take long rest stops anymore; Galleon might’ve found the city already.

As they passed over a river far below, she visualised a couple of lines running perpendicular to it, crossing it at two points roughly three miles apart before curving off at different angles. One led to ground-level structures with incomprehensible names and functions, whilst another led to a deep, subterranean… tomb, maybe.

All this she saw—no, knew of, in spite of the thick canopy and morning mist obscuring everything on the ground. Max turned her eyes towards the mountains, and she recalled the labyrinthine nexus of pathways that—

Argh!

She gritted her teeth and hissed when a spiny worm of agony writhed inside her brain.

“You all right?” Daring called out. “What the hay did that thing do to you?”

Shadows.

Watching. Judging.

This isn’t me…

She mentally shook herself and pushed those thoughts away.

I’m a changeling. Changelings don’t get identity crises. That’s stupid.

The shadowy figures and their fancy mind games were irrelevant. But, oh boy did she wish she could travel back in time to meet the ones who’d built those ruins so she could ram their tails up their—

“Uh, Max?”

She blinked and tasted Daring’s worried concern, which was apparently because she’d been giving the scenery a thousand-yard stare. With a grimace, Max gently tapped her temple with a hoof and said, “Sorry. You were right: it was a map, and that thing just pumped a bucking library of topographical info straight into my head back there. Hurts like crud, but I’m better now.”

“Ouch, that’s rough.” Daring winced sympathetically. “And bloody impressive, too. Whoever made these must’ve been messing around with some apocalypse-grade magic; it’s probably the reason their civilisation collapsed. And… wait a sec; if it’s in your head now, are you saying that you know exactly where we have to go?”

Max managed a weak, fanged grin. “Sort of. Galleon’s right. There’s a huge city under the mountains. It’s too painful for me to think about the details right now, but I’m sure that his dinky map nailed at least one of the entrances. That’s where we’re going.”

“Looks like you’re taking the lead, then.” Daring performed a bow in mid-air and made a sweeping gesture with an upturned hoof, like a doormare welcoming a guest. She then snorted and added, “Damn. This adventure’s feeling a little skewed with our relative contributions right now. If this keeps up, I’m going to become a sidekick in my own book.”

It didn’t sound too bad to Max, until the implications sank in. Then she shuddered. “Get AK Yearling to edit that out. Your fans will murder me.”

“Nah, come on.” Daring appraised her from horn to tail and nodded with an approving smile. “Digging the new look, by the way. It just screams coolness. You’re like the perfect blend of pony, alien bug, edginess, badflank and practicality. Trust me, once you make it into pop culture, the fans will eat you right up.”

Max jaw hung loose. She wasn’t sure whether to blush or shudder again.

It really should be the other way around…

“Also, that word you said back at the village. Was that changeling?”

Max stared at her for a moment or two before she remembered. “Oh, you mean t’chaak? Yeah, it’s… it’s just a swear word in Vespid.”

“Vespid, huh? Interesting. What’s it mean?”

“It won’t fit a teen rating,” Max deadpanned. Tilting to the side, she leaned close and whispered into her ear.

Daring’s eyes briefly widened before she chuckled heartily. “Oh, that’s a good one. Hah! I’ll have to remember that. Could you teach me more?”

“Swear words?”

“That’d be nice, but I was thinking of the language in general,” Daring said with a roll of her eyes. “Learning how to be vulgar in someone else’s language is usually the fun part, but I’m not all crass and filth, you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Max grinned and banked sharply to evade a good-natured swipe from her. “Well, ponies lack the parts to get the clicks and vibrations right, but I can teach you the simplified version we use when in pony form. Once this is all over.”

Daring held a hoof out. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They bumped hooves, and then Max transformed back into a pegasus version of Valiant Dawn. Feathery wings had better aerodynamics for speed, plus a little bonus: with a few mighty sweeps, she accelerated past Daring and rolled right into her flight path to let her ride in the resulting slipstream. That way, they could save time and effort by trading places every now and then.

The lush greenery of the jungle and the misty mountains quickly lulled them into companionable silence. This far south, the peaks had no snow, despite their dizzying heights. The only things missing were a sizeable lake and a beach, and it’d be the sort of place ponies went to for a vacation.

Her brain didn’t enjoy quite the same degree of serenity, what with all the roiling thoughts of the reformation of the hive, the jungle folk’s undetectable emotions, mind-altering ruins and the spectres that inhabited them, all demanding her attention.

No, no. No talking, no thinking. Just keep flying.

Max imagined her unpleasant thoughts simply slipping away, like water on her carapace. Those things could wait until later, once her brain stopped feeling like somepony had gone poking at it with a sharp stick. For now, she wanted nothing more than to savour her success at not being a total embarrassment in front of her heroine so far, and their imminent arrival to their destination after a ridiculously long and tedious trek. At this rate, their adventure might make for a decent book after all.

As the mountains and the forgotten city therein grew closer, so did her predatory smile.

Act Three, here we come.

Between a couple of bouts of illnesses and general laziness perfectionism, this chapter was a real tough one to push out.

It feels unusually talky, too. Hope it entertains.

Enjoy!