Something poked Fluttershy in the face and woke her. It was still dark, and she could just make out the outline of a long eared critter against the dimly illuminated world outside her side window. It took her a few seconds to wake up enough to realize the critter was gesturing to her.

“Angel Bunny... what is it?” she asked.

The rabbit made a few quick gestures that she couldn’t make out in the gloom.

“Are you hungry for a midnight snack?”

The rabbit shook his head and waved his paws around again.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

He shook his head again.

“Did you have an ‘accident’ in your bed again?”

He let out a small cry and slapped her hard enough to turn her head towards the back window. Then he was next to her, pointing towards it and jumping up and down. She got up and made her way to the window. Looking down she saw a half dozen chickens milling around in the moonlight, leaving tiny tracks through the snow.

“Oh my! They should be in bed. How did they get out?” She turned to the rabbit beside her. “Come on. We need to get them back inside before they freeze their little wings off!”

She hurried downstairs and grabbed her coat before stepping outside. It was freezing, and even with her coat the still night air almost instantly sucked the heat from her. The end of winter was close but it was still brutally cold, and a layer of snow a few inches thick covered the ground. Shivering, she trotted out to the group of chickens and shoo’d them back towards their coop. They clucked and tried to scatter, but she managed to keep ahead of them. She turned to ask Angel to check for more on the other side of the house, but the only tracks leading from the door were her own. Her eyebrows scrunched up in a slight frown. It looked like she was on her own.

It took her a few minutes to corral the birds back to their pen and when she got close she saw what had let them loose. Someone had opened the gate. And that someone had left a trail in the snow. She didn’t know what to make of it. It wasn’t a pattern of footsteps, but two inconsistent thin trails, spaced close together, like something small had drug its feet most the way. It came from beyond her yard, went around the chicken coop, and led straight inside through the now open gate.

She paused. What should she do? Whatever was inside could be dangerous. Should she take her chickens back in the house? They’d be warm, but they were so messy! She stood in the cold snow for several seconds, indecision paralyzing her. She started to turn around, to head back to the house, but then she stopped and shook her head. No. This was their home. She would just have to see what was inside. Besides, Rainbow Dash would never let her live it down if she found out.

Steeling herself she slowly approached the small building that made up the henhouse, doing her best to remain silent. A small amount of light came from the single light bulb she had placed in a corner inside to keep her chickens warm, enough to make her squint painfully when she pushed her head inside. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the light. When she could finally open them she swept her gaze around the building.

It was just a simple henhouse, with a dozen small alcoves running along the wall, each occupied by an empty nest. Her eyes widened when they reached the corner alcove under the light. There was something there! It was small and black, and had sandwiched itself between two nests, placing one on top of itself like a blanket. It was trying to stay warm. But even curled up between both nests right underneath the lightbulb it still shivered uncontrollably, shaking so hard strands of straw fell from the nests.

Her face softened at the sight and she spoke to it as calmly as she could. "Why, hello there.”

Its reaction was quite the opposite of what she had intended. It scrambled from the nests and pressed into the corner, trying to get as far away from her as possible. Shaking and shivering it stared at her with large blue eyes reminiscent of an insect’s below the small bump of a horn on its forehead, and Fluttershy gasped when she realized what she was looking at.

It was a Changeling. A small one, barely the size of one of her chickens. And it was wounded. The nest it had been curled up in was stained from several open, dirty wounds that still leaked blue blood down its hide.

“Oh my goodness!” She pushed her way inside, struggling for a moment to get through the opening. It was a tight fit and she filled almost a quarter of the henhouse herself.

The changeling cowered at her approach. He shrunk down and let out a cry. Or, rather, he tried too. His mouth was open and his little chest heaved, but nothing emerged other than a wheezing, rasping sound. That’s when she saw the ragged wound at his throat and her chest tightened in concern.

She stopped a few steps from the little changeling. He was scared. No, he was absolutely terrified. His head moved left and right and he wheezed hard with each breath, and Fluttershy was certain that had he been able to make a sound he would have been bawling. It broke her heart.

“I... I’m sorry, but I have to take you inside or you’ll freeze out here!” She moved closer to him. “Don’t be scared. It’s okay.”

She reached down and scooped the changeling up. He was small and light enough to hold in one foreleg. Whatever fear he had must have doubled when she picked him up. He shook terribly, wheezing harder than ever, each breath shaky and labored, and she imagined he viewed her as some terrible monster, come to take him away.

Her chickens forgotten, she trotted awkwardly on three legs as fast as she could back to the house, speaking softly to him as she went. “Shhhh. Everything is okay. No one’s going to hurt you here. We’re just going to go inside where it’s warm and clean you up.”

The door burst open and she hurried through to the kitchen. She deposited the changeling on the counter next to the sink and started the hot water. Angel was nearby. “Go get the bandages!” she told him. He frowned and crossed his arms. She didn’t have time for this. "Now!” she said in her sternest voice, scowling at him. The rabbit’s ears fell and he scampered off to a nearby cabinet.

She wetted a rag and started to clean the changeling on her counter. He tried to pull away from her, but she held him still with one hoof and ran the warm cloth over him with the other. He was filthy! Mud and dirt covered his body and she’d have to clean him just to find all the wounds. She panicked for a moment when the rag went through his leg and something fell out. It was a plug of mud. Relief hit her and made her smile when she realized the hole, similar to the ones the larger changelings had, was supposed to be there. She worked as quickly as she could, moving the warm cloth over his little body again and again, humming and singing softly as she did. Gradually the changeling’s shaking died down and he mostly stopped crying. Every now and then a hiss or rasp would come from him as she worked.

But even though she was cleaning and singing her mind ran. Where had he come from? What or who had done this to him? What would she do with him? Should she keep him? Would her friends approve if she did? No answers came to her and she could do nothing but keep running the cloth over him as she thought.

Finally, after her sink was coated with muddy bits of straw and feathers, he was clean enough for her to work on his wounds. Those concerned her. What should she use on them? Did changelings respond to the same medicines that ponies did? She couldn’t take him to the hospital, after the attack on Canterlot by the Changeling Queen they’d never take him in. She fretted while she worked, but eventually decided to simply clean them out as best she could, apply some bandages, and hope for the best. After all, most of the wounds didn’t look too bad. A long, arcing wound across his flank wasn’t deep, and it clotted quickly. A shorter one on his shoulder was worse. It was packed with dirt and oozed blood and she had to be rougher than she’d liked to get the dirt out. It hurt her, each time she darted in he would hiss and shake and a cold shock would hit her that mirrored his suffering.

“I know it hurts. But be strong, we’re just about done okay?” If he understood her he didn’t show it, but she thought he stayed a little more still after that.

Finally she was done and moved on to his throat. Unlike the others, this one really scared her. It was a short gash, deep, and the area around the wound was dark and cracked. She gently pulled it open to see how bad it was and the changeling violently exhaled, giving a near silent cry of pain that still managed to make her cringe. Luckily it wasn’t bleeding badly, so the wound probably wouldn’t kill him, but the little guy may never speak again. She cleaned and bandaged it and moved on to the rest of him, thankfully finding no other major injuries.

He seemed to have calmed down now, and was staring up at her with half-lidded eyes that blinked slowly as she sung softly to him. The sight of him, so small and innocent and cute made her smile.

“Ohh, I know you’re tired sweetie. We’ll go to bed soon but we’ve got to get you nice and clean first. Is that okay?”

He slowly nodded and her heart soared. He could understand her! She hadn't known if changelings spoke another language, as other than their queen none of them had spoken during the attack on Canterlot other than to growl or hiss at them.

Once his wounds were taken care of she gave him a thorough washing. Most of the dirt was gone and it didn’t take long until all that left to clean was under the dark blue carapace that covered his back. That must be where he kept his wings. He didn’t resist her touch when she reached in and pulled one out. They were beautiful things, thin and translucent like a dragonfly’s with a tinge of light blue. She touched them, gingerly, afraid of damaging the thin membrane, but they were strong and tough, and the dirt washed easily from them. When she was done he folded them back up and she reached for a towel.

“There we go. All done. Are you ready for bed now?” she asked after drying him off. He looked up at her and his mouth moved, like he was trying to speak, but only a whisper of sound came out. And it hurt. By Celestia it hurt so much. Like someone had kicked her in the chest. Tears welled in her eyes and she scooped him up, hugging him as she fought to control herself.

“Don’t you worry now, okay?” She stroked his head. “You’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

She carried him upstairs and gently laid him down in her bed, curling up around him. He snuggled into her as she did, as if seeking her warmth, and she lay a foreleg over him before leaning down and gently kissing his head. And then she sang. Not just to him, but to herself, trying to get both of them to fall asleep.

She continued to sing long after he fell asleep, unable to drift off thanks to the thoughts running through her mind. Her earlier questions remained unanswered. And what if she couldn’t find where he came from? Would she keep him? She had plenty of experience with animals, but she wasn’t a mother. The changeling was obviously small. Not a baby, but nowhere close to being grown. She didn’t know what she would do, or what she could do, but she knew that no matter what, she wasn’t going to abandon the little guy or let anyone else hurt him.

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