Maud hadn’t seen many changelings before; it took her a good long, look to convince herself that she was staring at one, and another one before she could overcome the disbelief that one was crying.

This changeling looked not unlike the other changelings Maud had seen. She was brightly-colored, even in the dim evening light, with wings so thin and fragile—the antitheses of rock—that Maud couldn’t help but not care for them. And her face was buried in her hooves, hidden underneath a mop of hanging teal hair.

“What are you doing here?” Maud asked.

The changeling sprang up with a lurch, whirling and hissing; her menace was diluted by fresh tears glistening in the moonlight on her cheeks.

Maud blinked, tilting her head.

To her surprise, the changeling backed down right away. She inched back, falling to her haunches. She looked so frail and thin Maud didn’t realize how very tall she was right away. Taut skin exposed a suggestion of ribcage, while gaunt cheeks made her face skull-like. 

“Starving,” the changeling replied, though she didn’t need to say it aloud. Before Maud could think what to say to that—tears weren’t something she knew how to handle—the changeling asked, “Do you know who I am?”

Maud didn’t know many changelings. She shook her head.

The changeling’s mouth pursed up into a bitter scowl. “I figured,” she said. One of her hooves pawed at the ground, showing flecks of dirt through the holes dotting her limb. 

“Is that why you were crying?”

The changeling sucked in a snort of a breath. Anger flickered through her eyes, as if the act of speaking infuriated her, but her mouth opened inexorably. “It’s not fair,” she said. “I was living the right way. The natural way. Then they despoiled themselves.” She curled her lip, then hung her head. “But the right way forwards told me that ponies needed to be punished.

“But I saw them. Just a few days ago. They were happy. They didn’t even know I’d tried. My plan failed, and they never noticed.”

Maud blinked. Then stepped closer. Then sat down in front of the changeling. “Do you want to talk?”

Again the changeling snorted, lifting her leg and showing the holes in it; up close, Maud could see the color fading into black here and there, like some ichor was seeping up from beneath the changeling’s skin and corroding her cheery exterior. “This is what happened the last time I tried that.” An angry tear rolled down her cheek. “They all made this work.”

“You’re different,” Maud said. “So am I.”

The changeling glared at Maud.

“My children betrayed me. They found their own way. What kind of queen would I be if I let them outdo me?” the changeling hissed.

Maud frowned.

“Get away from me,” the changeling said.

Maud wished she had the words to tell the changeling how wrong she was.