And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but

The truth in masquerade.

I woke up early; the armchair in Starry's room hadn't exactly been comfortable. Starry was still asleep—with her head buried under her pillow and her blanket tangled around her hind legs, it looked like she needed to sleep in. Not wanting to wake her to find out what I should be doing, I decided to try fixing the two-way radio I noticed on her desk—having remembered Starry saying it was broken.

There hadn't seemed to be anything really wrong with it aside from a few loose components, so I tightened them down and it worked just fine, though the reception was pretty poor.

But through the static, I could make out a raspy voice speaking in slow, mournful tones:

Beware the makers of history, kid. They know not their own.

I stared at the radio, wondering if there was more, but all I heard was static. It was a strange transmission, like the one I'd heard on my Pipbuck during my first night under the pouring rain. But this time I didn't have to just listen.

Hesitantly, I put my hoof on the transmit button and pushed it down. "H-hello?" I spoke into the microphone.

There was a pause with only more static before a voice—different from the first; he sounded young, maybe my age—came on over the radio: "Who's on this channel? Identify yourself, over," the voice barked. There was a familiar tone to his voice, one I'd heard from the senior engineers in maintenance whenever I'd interrupted them during one of their . . . breaks.

"Day? What are—" I looked up to see Starry lifting herself out of bed. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she squinted as though even the dim light that filtered in through the boarded-up window behind me were a blinding glare. But then her eyes opened wide as she saw me at the radio, and she leaped out of bed, almost tripping over her own hooves as she stumbled over and snatched the microphone away from me.

"Watchtower, this is Constellation. Standby," she groaned into the radio.

"Roger, Constellation. You've missed seven check-ins. No messages pending. Watchtower standing by, over."

Starry clicked the radio off and stood there, looking down at me. "What are you doing playing with my radio?"

I felt my ears flush hotly as they folded back. I lowered my head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I just wanted to fix it for you. It wasn't badly broken. I—"

Starry cut me off by holding up her hoof. She mumbled something to herself and slowly stumbled back to the bed. After fumbling around with her saddlebag, she pulled out her aspirin bottle and a full bottle of scotch. I sat at the desk quietly while she shook out a tablet into her hoof and then swallowed it down with a swig from her bottle. She sat there, silent for a moment, with her eyes closed.

"Thank you, Day, for fixing the radio for me." Starry opened her eyes and turned her head to look at me, her eyes no longer bloodshot. She smiled. "Why don't you go downstairs and have Chrys make you something for breakfast. I'll be down in a minute."

I gave a small nod. "Okay, ma'am—"

"Starry," she corrected me.

"Starry. I'll see you downstairs," I said, and made my way to the door. I unlocked all the deadbolts but glanced back over my shoulder at Starry. She shooed me out with a smile and a wave of her hoof as she moved back to the radio. So I left her alone and headed down to the diner.

Downstairs, I saw Chrysanthemum as she was clearing empty bottles off the table with the passed out pony in the corner. She collected the bottles in her chartreuse aura and paused for a moment, looking over the stallion, then gently brushed a hoof along his mane. He stirred a bit, possibly the only sign of life I'd seen from him since the first time I set foot inside the diner. and Chrysanthemum left him alone.

"Oh. Good morning, Day," she said cheerfully, on her way back behind the bar. She saw me looking over at the stallion in the corner. "He lost his wife several months back. Poor thing. I set them up together. I try to help, but there isn't much I can do when all he wants is to drink himself to sleep."

"You just let him do that?"

"What else is there? Throw him out in the rain?" She shrugged. "I keep him warm, and sometimes when he's lucid enough, I give him a shoulder to cry on."

She turned to me and smiled. "But how about you? Did y'all have a Lucky Night?" she asked with a wink.

My wings bristled and I cringed. Her innuendo I could ignore, but that . . . "Please don't use that word."

"What? Lucky? It's your name, isn't it? Lucky Day? Starry told me last night. I think it's cute the way you tried to hide it from me."

I sat at the bar and slumped down with my face on the counter. "Can I just get something to eat, please, Miss Chrysanthemum?"

"Aw, hun, don't be so formal with me. Really. Just call me Chrys."

I glanced up at her with my head still resting on the countertop. "Will you forget what Starry told you about my name? Chrys?"

"Certainly!" She smiled cheerfully. "Now, for something to eat . . . I've got these, though I'm sure it's nothing as fancy as what they fed y'all in the stable." She reached under the bar and pulled a packet about half the size of a loaf of bread and set it down in front of me. "Managed to trade for a couple crates of these last week."

"What is it?"

"It's an MRE: Meal, Ready-to-Eat. From what I hear, they were used by the old Equestrian military as field rations. It's basically a brick of processed cornmeal with chunks of dehydrated fruit mixed in. Fifty caps."

Assuming it was a fair price, I was about to pay with the caps I'd earned the previous night fixing the generator when I realized I had left the caps in my saddlebag back in the room.

"Don't worry about it, hon. I know you're good for it." Chrysanthemum smiled, pushing the MRE across the counter to me.

I thanked her and opened the package. It certainly didn't look like much, and "a brick" turned out to be a pretty apt description for the two hundred year old ration. Still, as I bit off pieces of it, I found it to be mostly tasteless, but satisfying.

A loud crash came from upstairs, causing me and Chrysanthemum to jump. And no sooner had it occurred to me that Starry could be hurt than I was already halfway up the stairs, calling out: "Starry!"

Chrysanthemum followed right behind me as I burst through the door into Starry's room. We stood there, breathless, my chest pounding as we looked over the scene: The floor was a mess of radio parts, scattered in all directions from where it had hit the floor beside the desk.

Starry was standing over the shattered husk of the radio, her wings flared out in shock at our sudden intrusion.

"What happened? Are you okay?" I asked.

Starry blinked and looked down at the smashed radio. "I . . . everything's fine, Day. I just—the radio. It, uh, fell."

"Fell?" I echoed. How many times had I explained my injuries in the stable as "I fell"?

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Day." She forced a laugh. "It was so stupid of me: I was just reaching across the desk and just knocked it over." She knelt down to start gathering up all the broken pieces. "You did such a nice job of fixing it for me and now look at it. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Starry," I told her.

I closed my eyes, then took a slow breath in. But it wasn't really okay, was it? Did she not trust me for some reason? Was she just trying to spare my feelings about something? Or was she trying to protect herself? From what? Me?

But I couldn't call her out on it. How could I? Without her, I'd be all alone. Whatever had happened, it wasn't worth possibly losing her over it. I had to stick with her. I had to get along. So it was really the best thing for me to do.

It was a lie, and I knew it. But what else could I do? I opened my eyes and breathed out. "It's okay," I repeated the sweet nothing and smiled as I knelt down to help her pick up the pieces.

Chrysanthemum beat me to it, though, sweeping up all the little pieces into her chartreuse aura and depositing them on top of the desk. Her attention was on the room, however; her face was slacked while her eyes, wide, wandered across the walls. I imagined it was probably the same look I'd had when I had first seen the inside of Starry's room. "What have you been doing up here, Starry?" Chrysanthemum asked.

"You know I've been looking for something. Well, this is all just part of how I'm searching. Oh! Actually, that reminds me:" Starry ran over to the map on the wall. "Day, I know where to go next. The Sunstone facility is here." She tapped her hoof on the map. "I figured it out last night from the logistics records I got from the office building. You know: the one where we met? Well, I was right: I was able to correlate the shipments of materials with its construction and then cross reference with the shipping company records that I have to find out where it is. So that's where we should go next. That's where the trail leads. We can fly there in a couple hours."

"Um, Starry . . ."

"We'll be able to check it out," she kept talking, her voice running so fast that I was barely able to follow what she was saying.

"Starry . . ."

"And be back here with the next clue—"

"Starry!"

Finally, she stopped and turned back to me. "What is it?"

I glanced over at my bandaged wing. "I don't think I can make a flight that long." It had been only a couple days, and though my wing wasn't sore anymore, I knew from the last time it had been dislocated that I wouldn't be capable of more than a short flight for at least a week. At least, not without risking further injury.

Starry blinked at me a few times, then turned back to the map. "Okay. Okay. We can make it on hoof. It'll take a bit longer, maybe a whole day to get there . . . we can save some time if we cut through this forest here." She ran her hoof across part of the map.

"That's a dangerous place," Chrysanthemum spoke up. "You'd be better off going the long way around."

Starry looked from Chrysanthemum to me and frowned. "I think the less time we spend on open ground, the better, with the way things have been going. I'm sure we can handle whatever's in the forest."

Chrysanthemum shuffled around on her hooves. "Then . . . then at least let me help guide you."

"You know your way around there?" Starry furrowed her brow.

"Sort of—yes. I used to date one of the merchants who came here to trade with Mum. Sometimes I traveled with him, and he made his route through the forest." She bit her lip. "It's been a while, but I'm sure I can help y'all avoid the dangers in there. And 'sides: the prospectors who live around here won't be back for another couple days yet. I could stand to get out for a while."

"How much does your guidance cost?" Starry asked.

"Oh, don't worry about it, hun," Chrys smiled. "There'll be salvage out there, right? I can just help myself while we're out there. I'm no stranger to prospecting myself."

"Alright." Starry nodded. "Thank you, Chrys. We'll be happy to have you along." She brushed a few of her stray hairs back under her cap. "Alright, let's get ready and head out, then. We've got a long way to go."

***

There had been no definite line marking the edge of the forest. As we had walked, we could see the forest ahead: At a distance, it looked to be a dense wall of trees that somehow always seemed to be just ahead of us but never got any closer. The wall only grew in height until the towering trees loomed over us while still never seeming to draw any closer. Even as we'd pass one tree, then another, then a few more, it always seemed to be out on the horizon.

And yet, when I glanced behind us, I realized that it ran across every horizon, and suddenly we were deep in the forest, having entered  it at some point along the way, but exactly which point, I couldn't remember. It had simply crept up and surrounded us without our knowing.

There were no birds, no small animals—or large ones for that matter. Just trees as far as I could see. The sky above was just barely visible through the high boughs, where most of the leaves still clung to their parent branches. Underfoot were dried, mulching leaves and scattered branches. The sound of those leaves and branches crackling and snapping under our steps was broken up every so often when a gust of wind would roll through the forest, and the tired old trees would sway and creak, as if threatening to crash down on us.

"Keep your eyes out for movement among the trees," Chrysanthemum cautioned us as she led the way. "The best thing we can do is try to . . . to avoid . . ." She stopped for a moment and put a hoof to her forehead as she cringed.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

Chrysanthemum gave a vigorous shake of her head and took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Um." She looked around, her ears twitching. "Do you hear that?"

Starry and I both stood still, craning our ears around. But all I heard was the slow creaking of the trees.

"Hear what?" Starry asked.

Chrysanthemum shook her head again. "Nothing. Just a . . . ringing—ringing in my ears. It's Nothing. Come on. Let's not waste time." She set off again, a slight hurry in her step

I exchanged a glance with Starry, concerned that something might be wrong with Chrys, but not knowing any way to help. Starry shrugged a little and nodded. "Come on." And we pressed on deeper into the foreboding wilderness.

"Are y'all sure you don't hear that?" Chrysanthemum asked again after a short while.

Starry and I both shook our heads. Neither of us heard anything.

"Do you wanna stop for a rest?" I suggested. "We've been walking all morning, maybe—"

"No," Chrysanthemum answered curtly. "Thank you. No. I . . . I think we should keep going until we're out of the forest."

Starry glanced over her shoulder, her ears perked up. We all stood silently until Starry moved in closer to us, whispering, "I think we're being followed. We should definitely keep moving. Stay on your guard. Day, where's the pistol I gave you?"

"It's in my saddlebag."

"Well, get it out."

"But I—"

"Don't argue with me. Do it," she said sternly. 

I closed my mouth and nodded quietly as I reached back into my saddlebag and dug out the laser pistol which Starry had given me the night before. I tucked it into the front pocket of my stable uniform, and Starry nodded in approval.

Chrys floated out a pair of small pistols from her own bags. They wavered slightly as she held them in her chartreuse aura. She winced briefly and shook her head again before nodding to Starry. "Let's keep moving."

Every dry leaf and every snapped twig seemed to get louder, letting the entire forest know where we were with every step we took. If there were monsters lurking among the trees, they surely knew that we had intruded. The forest felt somehow alive and like it were very much aware of us. But for all I could see, and for all I could hear, we were alone. There was an aching feeling in my stomach, a gnawing little doubt that ran up my spine to scream in my ear: "There is something out there!"

As we continued further, Chrysanthemum began to stumble and waver from side to side. Her magic imploded, dropping her pistols to the ground, and she stopped to lean against a tree. She gave a dry heave and let out an agonized gasp.

"Chrys, what's wrong?" Starry asked, moving toward Chrysanthemum's side, but keeping her eyes and ears scanning around us.

"Dizzy," Chrysanthemum groaned. "Like knives in my ears." She gave another dry heave.

"Day, help her up. We're going back to the diner," Starry commanded.

As I approached Chrysanthemum, I suddenly found myself lying on the ground. It all happened so quickly that it took me a moment to process what had happened: Somepony had thrust me aside after dropping out of the trees and landing between me and Chrys.

With a flick of his hoof out from under his cloak, he threw some kind of green, glowing powder into Chrysanthemum's face while I was just getting back on my hooves. Chrys instantly fell back, choking and gasping for air, and I—I just stood there. I watched her writhing on the ground.

Starry was quick to act, however, rushing toward the cloaked figure. She took a swing at his head, but he ducked under her hoof.

"Stay your aggression," came his voice from under his cowl. He hopped to the side nimbly as Starry rounded to kick at him with her back hooves but she missed again. "Your friend is gone; fiend unmasked. Look, see for yourself." Again he dodged Starry as she tried for a flying tackle but caught only a pile of dry leaves and twigs.  The cloaked figure stood over Starry and pointed his hoof.

I looked where he pointed, back at Chrysanthemum. What I saw . . .

Where Chrys had been, I saw something else. She had a black, leathery hide; eyes without pupils, just solid, opalescent blue; and long, sharp fangs that stuck out from the corners of her mouth. Her horn had a similarly dangerous-looking shape, and in place of the long, bouncy curls of Chrys's mane, there was instead a short, straight, silky gray mane. Delicate, gossamer wings protruded from her back, buzzing and twitching erratically.

Starry had stopped trying to fight the cloaked figure as she too looked back at Chrysanthemum to see what she had turned into. We were silent as we watched her. She stopped choking and slowly sat up when she looked down at herself and saw what we saw.

"No . . . No. No, no!" She looked up at us. "I—I can't—I'm not—" She faced the cloaked figure. "You! What did you do to me?" Chrysanthemum cringed and her horn flared chartreuse, but only for a moment before imploding. "What did you do to me!" she screamed.

"Your true face, revealed; your masquerade uncovered," he answered, stepping forward slowly. "Prey on us no more." He pulled back his hood to reveal his striped visage and eyes that boiled with an intent . . . an intent I'd seen before. I'd seen it in the eyes of security ponies inside the stable. Never interfere with security; just keep your head down and get along.

Everything I'd ever known told me to stay out of it—to just let it happen and move on, forget about it. But as I looked down at Chrys as she lay there cowering helplessly, with tears rolling down her cheeks . . .

"Wait! She's our friend. She's done nothing wrong!" I pleaded with the cloaked zebra.

He stopped and turned to face me, his head tilted to one side. "I didn't think ponies spoke our language. But that changes nothing." He pointed a hoof at Chrysanthemum. "Do you see what she is?"

"I see that she's afraid!"

"What are you?" Starry demanded, looming over Chrysanthemum.

"I'm Chrys! The same Chrys you've always known!" she pleaded. "Starry, please! I'm me—I'm still me . . . I've always been me . . ."

"She is a monster. I must keep her, however. There are more to find," the zebra said.

"I'm not a monster!" Chrysanthemum cried, burying her face in her hooves. "Not a monster . . . not a monster . . ."

"Stop! Both of you!" I shoved past the zebra and Starry to stand between them and Chrysanthemum, my good wing flared out. My temples pounded with every beat of my heart. Each thundering pulse was like a loudspeaker inside my ears: "You have to get along . . . It's important to get along," it rang, commanding me to mind my place, not stand in the way, and to let Security do its job. Inside the stable I would never have dreamed to stand between Security and somepony I barely knew. But seeing Chrys like that—like a small, innocent, helpless little foal . . . I fought against the pounding in my head, the pounding which told me to stand by and just let them do what they wanted. I had to protect her.

"I won't let you hurt her," I said. With the way my heart was racing, I felt like I might pass out. It took all the effort I had just to keep my knees from buckling as my legs shook.

Starry, to my surprise, backed up a step. Her eyes were wide as she stared at me. The zebra didn't back off, though. "She feeds on my tribe!" he shouted. "She, her kind, feast, we suffer. I will see it end!"

"No! I don't! It's not me!" Chrysanthemum yelled back. "I . . . I'm not part of . . . that . . ."

I glanced back at her over my shoulder and watched as she shakily got back on her hooves. "Part of what?" I asked. "Chrys, what's he talking about?"

She looked around cautiously and trembled. "We're not safe here. Please, I'll—I'll tell you everything, just . . . we can't stay here." She cringed as her horn flared impotently again. "And I need to change forms! I can't . . . I can't be like this. I feel . . . wrong."

The zebra hesitated. He lowered his eyes for a moment before he reached under his cloak and brought out a small cloth rag. "Wipe away the dust; magic will come back to you. But betray us not."

I took the rag and turned to face Chrysanthemum. She tried to reach for the rag with her magic, but it again imploded on her. "Here, let me," I said, reaching toward her, but I stopped when she ducked away from me. "It's alright, I won't hurt you," I reassured her.

She took a shaky breath and nodded, closing her eyes. I sat down in front of her and got a closer look. I could see the green powder that the zebra had hit her with. It sparkled like glitter in the dim light that trickled through the forest canopy. Gently, I started wiping it off her face. She grimaced, and I wasn't sure if it was because of my touch or if maybe the powder was hurting her, but as I got to her horn and cleaned the little green flecks off of it, her face relaxed.

I sat back and smiled at her. "I think that's all of it. Can you use your magic now?" I asked.

Chrysanthemum opened her eyes and looked at me. She blinked a couple times before her horn shimmered with her bright chartreuse aura. Her magic flashed around her, and she stood there, looking like she always had, with her vibrant green coat and her blue and white mane, styled in long, bouncy curls. She looked down at herself and let out a sigh. "Thank you, Day," she said, smiling back at me.

She winced suddenly, putting her hooves to her ears. "That noise! Make it stop!"

"What noise? What are you doing to her?" I turned around to face the zebra.

From under his cloak, he brought out a small polished stone, set with a yellow gem and with arcane runes etched into it. "It must be the effect of the repellant talisman I made. She's the first I've seen react to it."

"So turn it off!"

He hesitated. "It can't be turned off. Not without destroying it."

"Do it!"

"It's the only one I have. It took months to make. We'll need it to find others like her: the ones who have been tormenting my tribe."

Behind me, Chrysanthemum let out an agonized groan.

"It bothers her only when she wears her mask. She can go without it."

"Chrys?" I turned back to her. She was doubled over, clutching at her ears as she writhed on the ground. "Chrys, if you change back, it'll go away."

"No!" she yelled through gritted teeth. "You don't . . . understand." She spat out her words between pained gasps for breath. "This hurts . . . but that other . . . body feels . . . wrong! I can't!"

"Suffering like this, you can end it any time. Yet you endure—why?" The zebra looked Chrys over with a skeptical gaze.

Chrys forced herself up to look the zebra in the eye. "If you had to spend your whole life trying to escape what you were born as . . ." She grimaced, and for a moment she looked ready to pass out. Her normally vibrant color had turned pale, and beads of sweat ran down her face and neck. "What would you suffer just so you could be yourself?"

The zebra was silent for a moment of careful consideration then his brow furrowed. "Whispers in my ear. You who could be anything, how can I trust you?"

"Please, sir," I said, my head bowed and my ears splayed. "Chrys has been kind to me since I met her. She's helped others, and she's helped me. Please, don't make her suffer."

Behind me, Chrys laid back down. She clutched at her stomach as convulsive dry-heaves wracked her body.

The zebra looked at me, his eyes wide in shock. After a moment, he glanced down at the talisman in his hoof. He sighed and dropped it on the ground, then stomped it under his hoof. The gemstone cracked with a small flash of light.

Almost instantly, Chrys's pained groans stopped, and I watched as she shakily got back to her feet. Her color returned slowly as she wiped the sweat and tears from her face. After a few slow breaths to steady herself, she looked up at me and smiled. And then she hugged me.

I winced slightly as she threw her forelegs around my neck and nuzzled my cheek. "Thank you," she whispered then looked over at the zebra. "I'm so sorry for what they're doing to y'all." She took a deep breath, and I felt her embrace tighten around me briefly before she let go. "I said I'd tell you everything, and I will. But we have to go somewhere safe first."

"Someplace safe indeed," he replied. "Follow me and do not stray. We'll go to my home."

"Hold on, now," Starry said as she pulled me aside. "Day, you know we can't go around solving everyone else's problems; we have our own to deal with."

I looked up at her. "But, ma'am . . . Starry . . . this is our problem, isn't it? We need to get through the forest, but there's something out there and Chrys is the only one of us who knows anything about it."

"So let her stay and deal with it. We'll go back the way we came and go around the forest." Starry sighed and pulled out her canteen for a drink. "It'll take longer, but at least we'll know what we're up against out there."

I fell back a half-step. "Just . . . leave?" I glanced back over my shoulder at Chrys. She stood cautiously away from everypony else, with her back against a tree. I felt a tightness grip my chest like a claw pulling on my breastbone. "We can't just abandon her! She's our friend!"

Starry took another sip. "I don't even know what she is anymore. And we certainly don't owe this zebra anything."

I backed up another half-step. I felt as if I were going to be sick. No matter what I did, it would mean losing somepony: If I went with Starry, we'd leave Chrys behind. If I stayed with Chrys, Starry would leave me. I'd already lost everything from the stable, I had just started rebuilding my life outside, and now I was about to start losing it again.

My legs tingled with hundreds of little pinpricks, and I struggled to keep my breathing steady. With a glance over my shoulder at Chrys, I gave Starry my decision. "I can't leave," I told her. "I won't leave." I sighed and hung my head, knowing that I'd be moving on without Starry.

"Day . . ." I looked up at Starry. The silver bars pinned to her collar glinted in the cold, sparse light that filtered down through the trees. She took another drink from her canteen. "Alright, Day," she sighed. "You have a point: this is the easiest way to get to the Sunstone facility." Starry approached the zebra. "You can help us get through this forest?"

"This, I do not know," he answered with a shake of his head. "Masked hunters live in shadows. Your friend will explain." He nodded toward Chrys, and then continued, "Make hunters hunted; make free my tribe, only that—" He stomped his hoof. "Will make clear your way."

Starry gave a slow nod. "Okay . . . that sounded enough like a 'yes' to me. Lead the way. Come on, Day, let's get moving. Chrys, or whoever you are—"

"Starry, please! I'm still me. I'm the same Chrys you've always known."

"You'll go ahead of me where I can keep an eye on you," Starry said with a note of finality in her voice. Chrys didn't argue. She hung her head and took her place behind the zebra while Starry and I followed behind her and we started walking through the forest again.

During the walk, the silence was broken only by a few brief moments of conversation. The zebra introduced himself as Kijiba. And Starry remarked how strange it was that I could speak the zebras' language. A large portion of the stable's population were zebras, I explained; everypony there spoke both languages fluently. Perhaps it was the just the mood we were all in, or maybe Starry thought better of asking more about the stable, but whatever it was, the conversation ended there.

After a while of traveling deeper still into the forest—all the while, glancing over our shoulders and listening for another ambush—the dark, stoic trees that loomed all around us gave way into a clearing. Even with the cloud cover, the light of day, however muted, was a welcome sight as we emerged from the forest canopy's shadow.

The clearing was populated with a number of huts built from wooden boards and thatched roofs. The huts looked old and poorly maintained; on every one of them I could see mold growing on rotten wood and holes in the thatching. There was no glass in any of the windows, leaving them open to the air with its humid oppression.

Each hut had its own small—I hesitate to call it a garden—they were more like small patches of tilled soil where meager amounts of various wheats and grains grew amid tangles of weeds. The village was quiet and deathly still, such that the slightest movement caught my eye as we passed along the outskirts: From behind the broken window shutter, a zebra foal's curious eyes peeked out to watch us before his mother pulled him away into the shadows. Another zebra glared at us from behind his small plot of crops. His face was gaunt, with dark shadows under his eyes. Through the stalks of grain he was tending, I could see that his body was practically emaciated, as though he could barely grow enough to feed himself.

There were other villagers about, but those who didn't retreat into their homes greeted us with the same cold, spiteful glares. Yet it didn't seem like our presence had at all interrupted their normal activities; as if their whole lives were spent exchanging looks of pure contempt and barely-restrained malice toward one another.

"Do not pay them heed," Kijiba said. "Their stares are as much for me," he continued, "as they are for you."

"Why?" I asked.

Kijiba didn't answer right away. I almost thought he was ignoring the question before he spoke up. "I am . . . unwelcome. Traditions, I don't follow. So they think me mad."

"Why don't you leave?" Starry asked.

"And where would I go? This has been my only home. Here is all I know," he answered bitterly. "My home, my people; even being unwanted—" He glanced back at us over his shoulder. "Could you leave your home?"

Nopony said anything more, and Kijiba continued leading us in silence. But I had to wonder about my own home—or, rather, the fact that I didn't have one anymore. What Kijiba had said was right; even unwanted, I could never have simply left. It had been the circumstances that had forced me to leave, and I would give anything to go back. Well, almost anything . . . I couldn't take back what I'd done. It had been too important, and I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't done it.

I just hadn't expected I'd have to live with myself after I had done it.

Trailblazer had mentioned having to learn to live again after his exile, and I suppose that's what I had to do myself. I had to leave my old life behind and find a new one for myself. In a way, I had died when the stable door closed behind me, but instead of passing on to live with the goddesses above, I was left to wander the wasteland as a ghost, lost and searching for . . . something. I needed to accept that my life had ended so I could move on.

And I tried to. But somehow it seemed that the wasteland was always conspiring to remind me of what I'd done . . . of what I'd lost.

As we walked on, we passed by a mare, but unlike the other inhabitants of the village, she didn't keep her distance and instead approached me. She wasn't old, but her face was wrinkled and her mane drooped listlessly over one side of her neck. Her left eye was bruised and swollen shut, and she favored her left foreleg as she walked. Her good eye caught mine and I stood still while she came closer until her face was right in front of mine. I grimaced at the smell of her breath but held still in her gaze.

"What is this that, with my eye, I do see? Some little bird, fallen out from his tree?" The mare scowled at me. "Fly home, little bird, back home to your nest. For you, do you not think, that would be best?"

"I . . . can't go home," I told her. "They won't let me come back."

Her wrinkled brow furrowed as she glared at me. Without saying anything more, she simply snorted and pushed her way past me.

I stood there in a bit of a daze. Something about the encounter with that mare had felt very unsettling, and left me with a cold shiver running down my back. I snapped out of it when Kijiba turned back to get me.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

"That mare," I said, pointing toward her; she hadn't yet gotten very far with her limp, "she . . . was telling me to leave."

Kijiba looked past me at the mare. He harrumphed. "Ignore her. Her husband disappeared a few days ago. Right after she got that limp and black eye."

My eyes went wide at that. "Are you suggesting her husband did that to her? And that . . . she . . ." I leaned in closer to Kijiba and lowered my voice to a whisper, "Did she murder him?"

Kijiba's eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips, taking a moment before he answered. "It's not safe to talk here. Let's keep moving. We can speak more freely at my home."

I nodded, and we continued on.

***

Kijiba's hut was noticeably different from the rest of the village. It was built into the hollowed out trunk of a massive old tree, with no outward signs of decay, and not only did he have what I would call a proper garden, but there was also a flower garden with an entire rainbow growing in it.

Inside the tree was only a single room. The air was thick with the scent of moldy pages, mixed with the fragrance of dried flower petals.

The room was crowded with all four of us, but there was space enough to move around comfortably, if only barely. Starry stood beside me nearest to the door while Kijiba sat down by his table, and Chrys stood in the center. Our eyes fell on her.

"Just what the hell are you?" Starry demanded.

"I'm . . ." Chrys chewed on her bottom lip and sighed. "I'm . . . a changeling. I can turn myself into almost any animal."

"Not just animal, but any pony she wants. Her disguise—perfect." Kijiba was quick to add.

Starry's eyes narrowed. "So was there another pony out there who looked like this? What did you do to her?"

"It's not like that! This is me! Just . . . me."

"So you've been tricking us the whole time. That line you fed us about traveling with a trader through this forest? That never happened, did it?"

Chrys looked away.

"And I bet that cute little story about Mum taking you in wasn't true either."

"No! That was true! I never lied to you before!"

"You were always lying to us! You let us believe you were a pony."

"I am a pony!" Chrysanthemum cried.

Kijiba cut Starry off before she could yell at Chrys again. "You wear this mask; you wish you were pony. Lies to tell the truth?"

Chrys choked back a sob and wiped her fetlock across her nose. "I've lived almost my whole life like this—like a pony."

"But you're not a pony," Starry countered. "You don't even have a real cutie mark. It's fake just like everything else about you."

"I wanted a cutie mark as much as any filly or colt does! I tried so many things, hoping desperately that maybe if I were good enough at one thing, I could get a real cutie mark like everypony else. That if I just wanted it hard enough, that it would make me a real pony." She let out a sound that was something caught between a cry and a laugh. "That never happened. But I really do have a talent for matchmaking. Starry, you've seen the ponies at the diner: every couple there was put together by me, and none of them could be happier."

She looked up at Starry. "You remember Scrap Yard and Rubble, right? Remember how sweet her laugh is? Oh, and he had such a great sense of humor! It was like nothing in the wasteland could ever take away his smile." She closed her eyes and let out a wistful sigh. "I set them up together when I was just a filly. When I watched them share their first kiss, I felt something—a chill, a tingle, it was like opening my eyes for the very first time. I almost broke down crying in front of everypony in the diner when I looked back and still didn't see anything on my flank." Chrys sobbed again then took a deep breath and looked up at us. "That's when I accepted that I'd never get the cutie mark I knew I was supposed to have. So I made this one up:" She turned to show her flank. "Two roses, entwined together in a heart. Because all I want to do is bring ponies together in love. Is that so wrong?"

The room was quiet except for Chrysanthemum's sniffling. I found myself questioning what it really meant to be a pony. If she lived as one, thought of herself as one, was I in any position to say otherwise? As she was, she was indistinguishable from any other pony. If that didn't make her a pony, then what did?

While Starry seemed, at best, unconvinced, I decided then that if Chrys said she was a pony, I would believe her.

"I don't understand." I turned to Kijiba. "You said there are others like her, and they feed on your tribe?"

He nodded. "I read in my books; masked monsters that feed on love. They feed, and we starve."

"No, that's not what they're doing to you." Chrys wiped the tears away from her eyes. "There's no love in the air here. It tastes foul. Others like—" She grimaced and bit her lip. "Others like . . . me could never survive here."

"But the books—"

"Were printed two centuries ago. These changelings here have adapted to a world where bitter emotions flourish." Chrys paused, turning her head to look at each of us. She knew the question we all undoubtedly had on our minds, and with a sigh, she answered what went unasked. "I was born during the early days of the war. I don't remember much from back then, just overhearing my parents talk about plans to wait it out. We were just going to go to sleep for a while—a torpor." Tears began welling up in her eyes again. "The last thing I remember is my mother singing to me to sleep . . . I can't even remember the song . . . and then I blinked and she was gone. And so was my whole world—everything, all of it, just gone! Two hundred years in the blink of an eye! And I was still just a little filly."

Chrys closed her eyes tightly and stifled a sob through gritted teeth. "I woke up here, in this forest, looking up into the eyes of a queen with her hive buzzing all around me. I can hear them now—their shrills and chitters are everywhere, all around us. They were watching us when you exposed me, and now they know I'm here!" She collapsed onto the floor and buried her face under her forelegs as she cried. "I'm sorry! I thought I could lead you around them so they wouldn't find us, but it's too late!"

"Chrys." Starry stepped forward, looming over her. "Chrys, look at me. This is very important: What do they want?"

Chrysanthemum lowered her hooves away from her face. Her eyes were bloodshot. "They want me back," she sniffled. "She wants me back—the queen. I ran away when I was still little. The air here—I can't stand it. They keep everyone in the village on edge and feed off your hate for each other."

Starry pulled out her canteen and took a long drink from it. She looked down at Chrys who was still sobbing on the floor. "I assume," she said, pausing to take another drink, "that we won't be able to simply leave now, will we?"

Chrys shook her head.

"Wonderful." Starry gave an exasperated sigh. "You got us into a real mess here. So what are we supposed to do about it?"

"We have to fight them," Kijiba answered. "My people will believe me; now that I have you."

"No!" Chrys sat up. "I never want to change back ever again. Certainly not so you can trot me out on display and turn the whole village against me."

"We don't really have a choice," Starry said. "The four of us are hardly an army."

"And neither is this village," Chrys argued. "You saw them out there, how they live—they're sick and hungry, and I can taste the malice in the air. Can't you? A single changeling could have them all entranced before they even know what's happening—" Her face turned pale. "I hear them getting closer! They'll turn the whole village against us when they get here." She gulped. "The only chance we have is if we go and talk to the queen."

"What? Just walk right up ask them nicely to let us go? That's a terrible plan!" Starry stomped her hoof as her wings flared out. She pulled out her canteen and finished off its contents, leaning her head back as she tried to shake out that last drop.

"If I can talk to the queen . . . if I agree to stay with her willingly . . . she might let you and Day go."

"And what of my tribe?" Kijiba asked. "Hunters do not give up prey. I'm left with nothing!"

"I'm sorry! I don't know what else to do! If you hadn't exposed me, maybe we could have gotten through unnoticed, but you had to go and hit me with that damn powder—"

The same thought struck us all at the same time, and we turned toward Kijiba. "Do you have more of that powder?" Starry asked. "We can use it against them—incapacitate them so we can stand a chance."

"I used what I had," he answered. "More ingredients, I have; but supply is short."

"Then make what you can," said Chrys as she wiped her eyes again. "If we use it on the queen, if we can defeat her, then the hive will be lost without her."

"And how do we know we can trust you?"

Chrys looked like she was about to start crying again as she faced Starry. "I guess you don't. But it's the only chance we have. And if we don't go out to fight them soon, they'll come for us. They'll take you and they'll put you in trances and make you live out your worst nightmares over and over again until all that's left of you is an empty husk, and then when your soul is empty, they'll feast on your body. It's what happens to everyone who's ever gone missing from this village." She turned to Kijiba. "I'm so sorry. Please believe me. I was never any part of it. What they do . . . I'd sooner starve than become a monster like them."

The whole time, I sat silently in the corner. I could hardly imagine anything more monstrous than what Chrys described. As Kijiba set to work making more of the powder he had used on Chrys, Starry continued interrogating her for anything that might be useful in planning our attack, and I sat quietly, trying my best to hold my stomach down. It twisted into knots inside me and filled me with dread as I looked down at the pistol tucked into my front pocket. I was going to have to use it. I'd have to kill again, almost for sure. Goddesses, I didn't want to. It was one thing to kill somepony in the heat of the moment, but I was going to be part of a plan to murder someone. Even if she was a monster, I felt sick at the thought. But what choice did I have?

I just had to put on a strong face and be the pony everypony expected me to be. Next Chapter: Chapter 7: Heart of Darkness Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 14 Minutes