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Why didn’t she wake up? What was the deal with that red dripping out of her nose? Why did Chrysalis abandon and ignore her for disobeying her orders instead of punishing her like any other changeling would have been?
Why didn’t she wake up? What was the deal with that red dripping out of her nose? Why did Chrysalis abandon and ignore her for disobeying her orders instead of punishing her like any other changeling would have been?
…and why did he have that same red leaking from his missing ear now?
“Is it because I haven’t fed enough? Shelby should have fed. I know she must have been hurt. She ran away after that. She—”
A brief image appeared in his mind where something shiny emerged from the ground, pulling her under. It was almost out of view. Others had to have seen it, yet none reacted to the odd display. It shimmered like crystals or shards of ice, but the others were too busy feeding, consuming the love of their helpless victims while all he wanted to do was run away.
No changeling made mention of the abduction. Shelby never made a sound. Did she know she was slipping away? Was she even breathing then? How could she, with her neck bent back so far and twisted? She never even blinked her cold, vacant, drained, whitened eyes as she sunk into the ground.
At that moment, Thorax was terrified. The thought of her sister, no matter how distant in generations, having been removed from their world had him scared stiff. She was never seen from or mentioned again. She stopped being a changeling, stopped… everything. Only that red and her refusal to feed set her apart from the others, and then she was gone, simply taken away.
“No… This isn’t the same. She was hurt. She landed wrong. She should have fought back,” he quietly reassured himself. “Changelings get hurt, but we’re strong. We just need rest and to feed so we don’t… we…”
He was searching for the words, any explanation to rationalize his fears. It was staring him in the face, yet he couldn’t fathom the possibility of it being true despite the new confusion of the mysterious abduction.
“We don’t die. The swarm doesn’t… Changeling’s don’t die. We’ve survived for… No. This can’t be… Why am I… Did those cold ponies… They didn’t crash, but the ice, the cave-in, that gunk… Oh, no… Gaster? Did I—”
The panic overtook him the more he could feel his carapace cracking, splitting, spreading open farther where the dark ooze would expose more of the sensitive membrane under his shell. Then, almost as fast as it started, the pain fell to something he could tolerate again, and he was left with only the hunger to manage.
New traces of blood traced down from his cheek, making him turn to his reflection, where he found a new feature added to his profile.
A new curved, yet with a defined edge, piece of carapace was jutting out from where his wound had opened up.
“That can’t be good.”
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