Chapter 3: The Lessons

Bronzewing enjoyed his first day with that name.

Then the end of the day came; the school bell rang, and students streamed out, their laughter echoing outside. Cheerilee waved them away, before coming back in. The restless changeling watched the teacher clean up, putting the chairs back in their places, sweeping the floor, putting caps back onto glue bottles. Then she sat at her desk, writing away and organizing papers. It was, Bronzewing decided, very boring, and he entertained himself by clanging his hawk claws against the bars of his cage to make a strange kind of music. Occasionally Cheerilee would glance up at him, chuckle to herself, before then going back to her work.

Boredom gave way to something much worse, however, once night began to fall.

As deep orange of twilight began to seep through the classroom windows, Cheerilee tucked her papers into a neat little pile on her desk, tossed a saddle-bag across her back, and headed to the door. She smiled at the changeling. "Good night, Bronzewing!"

Then she left, locking the school house's door, keys jangling as she trotted away. The changeling heard the clip-clop of her hooves outside, until they faded away completely.

The sun set, and moon rose, and shadows crept into the room, bathing it in darkness…and he was alone…

Changelings were not normally a species frightened by the dark. In fact, they relished it. They were creatures of the night, who wore shadows like coats until they could change into another creature's skin. Intellectually, Bronzewing knew this. His Memories were filled with the images of dark caves and lost catacombs, and dimly he knew those were the places his species belonged.

This was different, though. A changeling's true body was perfectly adapted to the dark; small and lithe, jet black so it could vanish from sight, with emerald eyes that could penetrate the deepest night. Hawks, however, were diurnal birds, at home in the sunlight. Bronzewing's mind might have been that of a changeling, but his present body was that of a hawk, and the bird's eyes transformed each shadow into a landscape of sinister secrets. The teaching desk seemed to become a hulking bear, crouched and ready to pounce at any moment. The pictures and posters hanging from the walls were rustling leaves that hid all manner of hungry predators, and he didn't even want to think about what could be waiting behind the closed door of the supply closet.

And he was alone…completely alone. His mind was silent as always, the Hive nowhere to be found, but now there wasn't even a pony, or a bunny, or anything else around.

Help, he called again and again, hoping that some remnant of the Hive would hear him and answer. Help!

But not a single changeling answered.

He spent the first three hours nearly petrified in fear, flinching at any sound. He felt as exposed as when he had first hatched, not even a day ago, lying completely defenseless on that branch. But fear was exhausting, and the night wore on, Luna's bright moon rising and then steadily falling. Slowly Bronzewing's tired muscles loosened, his wings drooping. He tried to stay awake, tried so hard- he couldn't let his guard down, for who knew what would happen?

But the pull was inexorable, and slowly, ever so slowly, the changeling drifted into his first sleep. The fear did not fade, however, and he was haunted by nightmares of something stalking him in a dark forest…

Time passed.

Miles away, in the shining city of Canterlot, the Great Alicorn Princess Celestia stepped forth, and opened her wings wide, initiated the ancient spell of Life and Light. Back in Ponville, the sun began to rise, tendrils of early morning light stretching slowly across the landscape. The sky turned from deep purple, to pink, until finally a beautiful, clear blue.

Cheerilee arrived at the school-house not long after the dawn had. She took a deep breath as she stepped into the classroom. She loved these early mornings- it was so peaceful and quiet. She smiled at the hawk, which was sleeping soundly, his head tucked under his wings. "Well, you look as though you slept well."

Bronzewing woke, blinking sleepy eyes, not even registering the irony of her words.

Cheerile smiled. The bird could be downright cute. The teacher had to admit, she had not wanted him in her care. She was a busy mare, and looking after a bird was not a responsibility she wanted to add to her already long list. That said, things seemed to be turning out for the best. Her students had a new pet, the hawk had a new home and she had a valuable (and adorable) new teaching tool. Yes, Fluttershy had been quite right in asking her to take the hawk in.

Bronzewing did not feel quite as cheerful as the purple mare, still feeling disgruntled and exhausted from the terrors which had plagued him all night. However, as the teacher bustled around the now brightly lit room, he began to perk up. The shadows were gone, and the pony was emanating a beautiful aura of care and kindness which made a wonderful breakfast for the young emotion-eater.

By the time the school-bell rang, and the crowds of students came rushing into the classroom to crowd around his cage, Bronzewing felt positively wonderful. The day was looking up.

oOoOoOoOo

Bronzewing seemed to settle into a comfortable routine.

The days were spent peacefully in and out of the classroom. In the morning, one of the students would lay out his food, which he would nibble on to avoid suspicion, though the protein kibble interested him about as much as gruel. Then he would listen to the first lesson with the rest of the class, which he usually found interesting. If not, he would let his mind wander. There were all sorts of interesting things around the classroom- pictures, drawings and decorations lined the walls. While at night the room seemed strange and menacing, Bronzewing loved it in the daytime. It felt familiar, somehow. Safe.

Even after he had been staring at the walls for days, and came to the point where he knew the decorations like the back of his wing, the changeling never grew tired. He was beginning to realize that the ponies were infinitely more interesting than the pictures on the wall; they were like art themselves, always changing. What had at first had seemed to be a single swarm of indistinguishable ponies focused into an entire room of individuals, each one as different as the colours of their coats. He quickly caught onto the unique traits and behaviors of each of them. There was Snips and Snails, two awkward but strangely endearing colts; always misbehaving and getting into trouble, not out of any malice, but because they genuinely didn't realize what they were doing was wrong. Twist, a funny little filly with a clumsy lisp, but who seemed to have a boundless generosity, and was always giving out free candies to the class. There was Feather-Weight, a shy pegasus colt who was always diligently writing notes and stories in small, precise hoof-writing. And that was just the beginning of it, for there were many more students in the class…

Then there were the three who had rescued him. Although Bronzewing learned quite quickly that they called themselves "The Cutie Mark Crusaders" (it was hard not to, with them yelling it at the top of their lungs at seemingly random intervals) he doubted that he would ever be able to think of them as anything but "the fillies who had found him on his hatching-day". The brave and rash Scootaloo, always buzzing around, the kind-hearted Sweetie-Bell who would sing quietly to herself when she thought nopony was listening, and the indomitable Apple-Bloom who always had a new idea to try out.

At breaks the students would munch on snacks, and "feed" him protein kibble once again. At lunch children would eat themselves, but then be set loose to play, rushing into the playground outside. This was the designated exercise time for the "hawk", and he would flap his wings and pose, but more to show-off to the adoring students than anything else. Then it was time for a few more lessons before the final bell rung, and the herd of ponies would run for their freedom. Sometimes they would hang around for a while, their laughter ringing in the playground, but sooner or later the students would all leave, with only Cheerilee around.

This was the quietest and most boring part of the day, but somehow the most peaceful. Cheerilee would sit at her desk, the classroom silent except for the scratch of a quill against parchment or the rustling of papers. The setting sun would stretch through the window, warming the cage, and Bronzewing often dozed peacefully.

Inevitably, though, the day would grow late, and Cheerilee would leave.

The nights were just as daunting as the first. In the darkness the silence in the changeling's head seemed to swell, and he filled the empty space with nightmares. He thought grim fantasies about how he might not live until the next day…

It didn't help that he felt exhausted. Occasionally he managed to nod off to sleep, but they were hardly calm and restful. They were haunted with his darker Memories, brought forth by fear, and he would often awake desperate for the dawn. He started to feel tired all the time, and it was something that no amount of love from the students seemed to quell. It was like a constant pressure beating down on him, like a headache that throbbed throughout his whole body. At night, with nothing but his own terror to distract him, the pain seemed to become so much worse.

The darkness never lasted forever, though. Eventually day would come, bringing a class full of shining and loving faces, and the routine would start again.

It was now exercise period and Bronzewing's fifth day at his new home. "Exercise period" was perhaps something of a misnomer; for the students it was recess, a time that Cheerilee said was a perfect for the young hawk to stretch his wings. The changeling was happy to oblige in that- unfortunately, the teacher had meant actually flying, which was something that he flat out refused to do.

No matter, it had seemed. Almost the entire classroom had seemed willing to teach him.

Technically, Cheerilee assigned a different pony to the "bird" each day; however, for the first few recesses practically every pony bunched around the new class pet, eager to see him fly. Despite what appeared to be their boundless enthusiasm, the foals interest had slowly begun to ebb away as the changeling continued to refuse to flap his wings. He would croon, squawk, and do any manner of bird things- but not that. The colts and fillies thought that he was interesting and all, but not really worth a full break-time, especially when there were swings and jump-ropes available as alternatives.

By now, only three fillies remained by Bronzewing's side; the Cutie Mark Crusaders. While all the class had been excited by the new addition to the class, Scootaloo, Sweetie-Belle and Apple-Bloom were by far the most eager. They had recused the bird from the tree, and in their minds, that made them almost parents to the creature. Even as the changeling's novelty wore off, the CMC's single-minded determination kept them loyal.

As luck would have it, today was Scootaloo's turn to watch over the bird and try to attempt to coax him into flying. She wore a thick, heavy glove all along her right fore-leg, which connected her to the changeling by a long rope, just as illustrated in "The Complete Guide to Avian Care, 12th Edition". Said book, a large, dull looking tome nonetheless filled with all sorts of interesting pictures and information (at least as long as you enjoyed birds) was spread on the grass. Sweetie-Belle lay before it. She had spent the last fifteen minutes helpfully reading out sections of the book, although she had now given up and was now proceeding to poke the pages tentatively with her horn, and making them turn with her magic. The constant sparks of pink magic and flapping of magic was mostly working to annoy Scootaloo, whose patience was beginning to wear thin.

The pegasus was now simply attempting to launch the changeling into the air by desperately flailing her arms. Bronzewing was testing just how strong a hawk's claws were. The answer, it seemed, was very, very strong indeed.

Apple-Bloom watched the entire scene with amusement in her eyes, clearly trying not to break down laughing.

Finally exhausted, Scootaloo stopped her flailing and glared at the earth-pony, her chest heaving. "What?"

"Nothin'," she said. If she had inherited her sister's infallible honesty, she probably would have answered differently.

"Well, stop staring then."

The pegasus slumped onto the ground dejectedly. It was quite a sight to see; a miserable filly, sweat dripping from her purple mane, holding a hawk with ruffled feathers and wide eyes. Apple-Bloom felt a pang of pity. She wanted to see the little hawk fly as much as anypony, but even more than that, she wanted to help her friend. Scootaloo was a stubborn pony, as a large collection of bruises and scratches could attest to, and if she got really set on something and it didn't work she could become absolutely downtrodden.

She eyed the book on the grass. Nothing in it seemed to be working, so Apple-Bloom decided to offer her own opinion on the matter. "Ah reckon we're goin' about this the wrong way," she said. "If you keep throwing him, he ain't gonna let go. You gotta make him want ta go up there!"

"How?"

"Ooh, ooh, like this! Listen," said Sweetie-Belle, her eyes lighting up. "Listen, Bronzewing, the sky is awesome…or at least, that's what I've been told. I've never actually been up there myself. No wings, y'know? But just look at how pretty it is! And there are all sorts of cool things up there! Like rainbows, and other birds, and clouds…..and um, more clouds….and…."

"Ain't there wind and rain and hail, too?"

Bronzewing's eyes went wide; Scootaloo's face landed in her hoof.

"Don't listen to them," she told the changeling. "There's way more up there than that. Case in point; Cloudsdale!"

"That counts as a cloud," Sweetie pointed out.

The pegasus scoffed. "Yeah, and Canterlot is just a collection of rocks. Cloudsdale is probably the most awesome place in the whole universe. A city made completely out of clouds and rainbows, with towers and stadiums and whatever a pony could ask for! Its home to the Weather Factory, the control center for the weather of all of Equestria! It's really beautiful too, if you care about that stuff."

As she spoke, fragmented Memories filled the changeling's mind. Yes, the Hive had been to Cloudsdalebeforeit happened. Unfortunately, Bronzewing didn't feel much enthused by the images of misty white roads and fog-formed buildings. It didn't seem particularly stable, and there was a long fall to the ground.

"It's also where they hold the Best Young Fliers Competion. This year, our very own Rainbow Dash, most awesome-est pony in all of Equestria won! When I'm old enough, I'm gonna win it too, and you can only watch me if you fly!"

Bronzewing couldn't help but think that if Scootaloo couldn't even manage to float when every other pegasus in the class could, she didn't have much hope of winning a flying completion. Immediately after thinking it, he realised that it wasn't a very nice thing to think.

That doesn't make it less true, a darker part of his mind answered.

The three fillies didn't see any of this inner-debate, and just saw the still completely uninterested hawk shuffling awkwardly on Scoot's foreleg, looking as completely uninterested in flying as before. The orange pegasus finally lost her patience. "Oh, whatever!" she groaned angrily, pulling off the leg guard, and shoving both it and the changeling into Apple-Blooms hooves. "We'll try again tomorrow!"

The angry filly stalked off towards the school, and Bronzewing stared after her, surprised at the sudden flare of negative emotions.

Apple-Bloom shook her head as she secured the hawk's tether, her bow seeming to droop. Her aura too, which moments before had been bubbling with eagerness and enthusiasm had dampened, like it had been shadowed by Scootaloo's.

"She'll be alright," said Sweetie-Bell, though it wasn't clear who exactly she was talking to. "She just…"

"Needs to cool off?" supplied the earth-pony. "Yeah, I know."

Bronzewing, still slightly bewildered by the sudden emotional turmoil, didn't know how a change in temperature was going to help anything, but he sure hoped that Scootaloo would cheer up.

oOoOoOoOo

That night, Bronzewing felt in an even fouler mood than usual. Perhaps it had been the draining "exercise" session, maybe it was the barrage of Memories he'd been experiencing since then, maybe his exhaustion had finally caught up with him, but he felt horrible. All he wanted was to close his eyes, and have the world disappear. That pressure which had been building, that feeling like he was been squeezed into a cage too small for him was growing and thought of facing the shadows, all alone, sent shivers down his spine, but he was almost too tired to care.

It wasn't an exhaustion that comes just from lack of sleep. It is a type that comes from overspending one's magic. For almost a week the young changeling's reserve had held, fed by the boundless love of his class, but now it had finally run low…

There was a momentary flare of green fire, like the final puff of a candle before it's blown out…

….and the world seemed to change.

To Bronzewing, it felt like everything shifted. The pressure on his body disappeared suddenly, his mind went clear. The world around him burst into focus. He could see everything- not just the outline of the desks and chairs, but actually see them. The shadows were still there, but they were no longer overwhelming; instead, they seemed like part of the room, almost inviting.

His eyes filled with wonder, Bronzewing stepped forward-

-and promptly crashed to the bottom of the cage.

Lying crumbled on the brass floor, his head aching from the fall, Bronzewing tried to climb to his feet, only to find there were too many. They were completely different, too, not the scaly claws he'd been using but smooth and shiny black hooves, riddled with holes. He stared down, uncomprehending, until a wave of Memories washed over him; of course, this was his true changeling body!

After the initial wave of confusion his instincts came back, and he managed to get to his four feet, although it took some time to properly balance. The posture of a four-legged creature is quite different to that of a biped, and being in the now rather cramped cage probably didn't help matters. Finally, though, Bronzewing got the hang of his true body and managed to sit fairly comfortably, staring off into the gloom.

Strange feelings whipped through the changeling. Yesterday he wouldn't have dared, or even dreamed, of leaving the cage at night, being too consumed with fear. Now he felt as if he wanted nothing more. The darkness felt like an old friend, filled with the promise of adventure, and he wanted nothing more than to journey into the shadows.

Only one thing was stopped him; the blasted cage!

He placed his forehooves against the side and pushed, shoved, once even jumped and strained with his wings, but the cage didn't shift and the bars didn't bend. When you're building something to hold a potentially dangerous animal, you don't make something that will break that easily.

Bronzewing quickly realised that brute force wasn't going to allow him to escape. But he so wanted- no, needed- to get out. How?

The answer came quickly; magic.

His mind was quickly filled with images of spells and enchantments. So many Memories that he felt he could have drowned in them; unicorns surrounded by sparks of all colours, the most powerful dragon-fire, even alicorns bringing forth the bodies of the heavens. The Hive was ancient, and their Memories had recorded some of the greatest feats of magic ever performed in all of history.

All of it basically useless to Bronzewing. He was young and hardly an expert on magic, but even he knew most of those spells were beyond the ability of any changeling. All he needed was a way to get out of the cage, not the workings of a great mage.

Almost immediately the Memories shifted, and his mind was filled with images of changeling magic. Green light arcing from horns; pulling tools through the air, befuddling the mind, striking down foes. Just by seeing it happen, Bronzewing felt like he could do it himself, like he'd known it his whole life. The ability, the knowledge was there, all he had to do was summon it…

He closed his eyes, focused, pooling his energy; surely he could feel the power welling, about to burst? Yes, yes, he could feel a tingle in his horn, a sudden burst of power-

-which produced nothing but a couple measly green sparks.

That's it? He thought, staring as green flickers faded. That's it?

He slumped down, exhausted. He didn't even have energy left to keep standing; it was as though he had not produced a light-show worthy of a damp fire-cracker but the greatest feat of magic ever seen. His limbs felt heavy, a horrible pounding was beginning in his head, and he couldn't even do the smallest spell.

Despair welled up in the young changeling. He had….failed. He hadn't done anything close to the spells in the Hive's memories. What kind of Changeling was he? No swarm, no magic, not even able to fly or get out of a stupid cage…

The Memories gave no reassurance, no kind words. Instinct just compelled him to sleep.

At first, Bronzewing refused, mostly out of an urge to wallow in self-pity. But his whole body felt slow and heavy, his mind seemed sluggish. Eventually he had no choice. His glittering green eyes slowly closed, his silver wings drooped, and the lonely changeling fell asleep with the night as his blanket.

oOoOoOo

When Bronzewing woke to pale sunlight seeping through the windows, the first thing he felt was disappointment. The classroom was bright and airy, the secret shadows evaporating as day swept across the land, and the changeling found himself missing the night.

The next thing he felt was really, really refreshed.

When he'd fallen asleep he'd felt angry and frustrated, alone and exhausted. Now he felt amazing! Even the memory of the sad little sparks last night couldn't dampen his mood- if anything, he felt an urge to try again, to blow his last attempt out of the water. Surely last night had simply been a fluke; now, he was sure, he could do wonders…

His train of thought was interrupted by the clip-clop of hooves outside.

His eyes went wide as he heard Cheerilee's approach. She would come in expecting to see a hawk; what would see do when instead she found his true, changeling form? Bronzewing didn't know, except that it would be bad.

Instinct kicked into high-gear. Disguise.

But Bronzewing panicked, all his confidence from just moments before. He couldn't even make a measly spell...what if he couldn't change, and he was found out? What if she saw him? What would she do?

The jangle of keys at the class-room door told him that if he didn't do something soon, he would find out.

There was no time left to think, or to worry; he just had to let the instinct consume him…

Cheerilee stepped into the classroom slowly, surveying it with a suspicious eye. As she was opening the door, she could have sworn she'd seen a sudden flash of green light. There was nothing out of place, however, besides perhaps a faint smell which could almost have been smoke.

In his cage, the hawk sat, his now-amber eyes wide. "Are you okay, Bronzewing?" Cherillee asked. The hawk just blinked, before settling down, looking somehow proud. The teacher shook her head. "Oh, never mind, I'm just being silly…"

I did it, Bronzewing thought, victoriously. I did it! And She didn't notice a thing…

What the changeling didn't know- couldn't have known- was how low his magical reserves had fallen. He was a young changeling, still growing. So much of the energy he gained from the students' love had gone immediately to strengthening the hatchling. When you factored in the fact that he had been holding a disguise continuously from almost the moment he had hatched, hardly resting due to his fear of the dark, it had only been a matter of time until his magical reserves had dried up, and he'd reverted to his real form. At that point, even the most skilled sorcerer in the land couldn't have cast a spell with so little magical energy.

However, taking new forms is a changeling's very nature, as simple to them as walking is to a pony. So all it took was a single night in his true form for his energy reserves to build up, and by the time the sun rose, he had enough to disguise once again. It might not have been enough power to cast more powerful spells, but as the students began to arrive, smiling, laughing and playing, love and joy positively flew around the room, re-energizing the changeling almost immediately.

There were two ponies that seemed distinct to Bronzewing, however. All the other auras seemed to blend together, their emotions shifting into a rainbow of sweetness and excited. There was a little pocket of silver and purple that seemed metallic and glassy. The ponies beneath it were Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon- and while they weren't unhappy, per say, they seemed to keep their emotions guarded and separate.

That was fine by him. He had learned a lot about the two spoiled fillies in the past week, and all they'd managed to make him do was wish that he'd bitten Diamond Tiara harder.

"I simply adore your new stationary set," crooned Silver Spoon, looking over Diamond's desk with an eager eye.

"Yes, they really are quite wonderful, aren't they?" she said, picking up a bright silver pen in her hoof. "They're like jewelry you can write with."

"I just can't believe you convinced your dad to buy them."

Diamond Tiara gave a dismissive wave of her hoof. "Oh, I simply explained to father that it was a good investment. Wooden pencils and rulers wear out so quickly. These stainless steel ones will last decades. I shouldn't have to write with sub-par instruments," she said, giving a dirty look to a battered pencil-case on the desk next to her.

Bronzewing rolled his eyes. He did not want to listen to this pony's incessant bragging.

It was almost as though Cheerilee had heard his thoughts, because no sooner had he thought them before she came swooping in, a smile on her face. "Good morning girls!"

"Good morning, Miss Cheerilee," the two fillies parroted.

"Now Diamond Tiara, do you remember what today is?"

"Friday?" the lilac filly answered, a hint of sarcasm entering her voice.

"Well, true," the teacher admitted, but then she pointed a large schedule on the wall. "But It's also your day to feed Bronzewing, remember?"

A look of disgust appeared of Diamond Tiara's face. "Ugh…do I have to?"

"Now, Tiara," Cheerilee said, "In life, everypony has to do things they don't want. But we all have to learn that we have responsibilities we can't just abandon. Understand?"

"Yes….but…"

"No buts." A dangerous edge appeared in Cheerilee's usually sing-song voice.

The spoiled filly stared up at her teacher for a few long moments, as if hoping Cheerilee would change her mind, before giving up and rising to her feet with a sigh. Silver Spoon shot her friend a sympathetic glance as she went to do the most horrible task imaginable; feeding a caged bird.

Diamond Tiara was not who many would consider to be the smartest of ponies. Her cutie mark was her namesake, for Celestia's sake! What could a filly whose special talent was literally being rich and entitled have to offer?

What many forget is that none of this means stupid. In fact, Diamond Tiara was arguably one of the more intelligent ponies in the classroom, with a manipulating mind and a keen eye. Her nasty run in with the changeling on the day of his hatching had made her bitter, and above all, suspicious towards him. It seemed everypony else in the class thought him nothing but a lovable pet, but he had proven on the first day to have a sharp beak and a willingness to use it. She was constantly watching him, wary, and she had noticed things. Sometimes he'd look angry, like he was about to strike out. The way he was always watching, like a predator. And sometimes she was sure that he shifted, like his body was a mirage. Once, Diamond Tiara thought she'd seen his eyes turn a bright poisonous green. All signs that belied the fact that he wasn't just the pretty little birdy he pretended.

Not that she thought that there was anything supernatural about it. She just suspected that he a creature with a mean streak- one which she would not allow to be aimed at herself.

So as Diamond Tiara reluctantly approached the cage, Bronzewing could feel the negativity radiating off her in waves. He narrowed his eyes at her. The pony's aura smelled horrible.

The way she was wrinkling her nose at him, it was clear that she returned the sentiment.

Neither of them wanted to do this. Any other pony could give him food- hay, he didn't even really need the bland and tasteless protein kibble. If Cheerilee would just let Diamond Tiara go back to her desk, she'd save them both some grief. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

"Listen, you," she hissed as she lugged over the large bag of bird feed. "I don't like you, and you don't like me. So don't try any funny business, you glorified chicken."

The changeling narrowed his eyes. He did not appreciate being insulted.

"That's right, chicken. You're just a bird that can't fly. You and Scootaloo make a fine pair- the two giant chickens of Equestria!" She grabbed the bag by her hooves, quickly pouring it into a small metal bowl. The pony didn't immediately slip it through the metal bars like she was supposed to, though, instead sliding it away from him, as if mocking that fact he couldn't reach through the cage to get it. "I don't even know why we bother keeping you in there. It's not like you could get away."

Fury seemed to rise up in his heart, along with the overwhelming urge to bite into the filly once again. He couldn't though, not through the cage….but oh, what he would give, just to wipe that sneer off her face…

Something in the changeling's mind answered.

He felt power welling up, and even though he was in hawk form, it was as though energy was pooling around the specter of his horn. Memories flashed through his mind, too quick for him to consciously register; but whatever part of him that was casting the spell did. He didn't know what he was about to do, but he didn't much care, either.

There was a quick flare of green light.

The changeling fell backwards, exhausted. It was everything he could do not to fall off his perch, but he held on, refusing to let Diamond Tiara see him in his weakness. He wouldn't let anything fuel that sickening sneer.

When he looked at her, though, there was no sneer to be found. She just looked slightly dazed, her mouth agape. Her eyes were wide and blank, and had turned a pale green.

That wasn't the only thing different about the filly. Her aura had changed. Reading emotions is a sense very different to any that a pony would know, so it's difficult to describe. Emotions are like a combination of taste, flavor and colour, all at once, in an almost indefinable way. Before, you could have described Diamond Tiara's emotions as silver and purple, proud and arrogant, with an undercurrent of disgust and anger, bitter but somehow luxurious. Now it was covered in a pale cloud of green. It tasted sweeter, almost cloying; it was happy.

Slowly, a smile unfurled across the pony's face. "Here you go, Bronzewing," she said mildly, pushing the bowl of kibble through the bars. "Eat up so you grow big and strong."

Love .It was rolling off her in slow waves. It was different to any love he'd felt before, sort of slow and sticky, unfocused. The spell had taken a lot out of the changeling, dangerously depleting his already low magic levels; but he could feel that power already returning, fueled by Diamond Tiara's sudden aura of positive emotions.

Slowly the filly stumbled away, the green glow fading from her eyes, though they remained unfocused. Bronzewing watched her, a strange emotion building in his chest. He watched as she vaguely picked a pencil off the floor for another pony, how she gave an absent-minded apology to a fellow student she bumped into, and how her friend Silver Spoon asked her worriedly if she was feeling alright. It was all so strange, to see her suddenly act so different.

Strange, but good.

oOoOoOoOo

At the end of that day, the weekend came. Cheerilee knew that she couldn't leave the hawk alone in the classroom for over two days, so brought him to her home, lugging his cage and food along with all the marking she had to do.

Bronzewing had been to the teacher's home once before, having stayed there on his first night in Ponyville. It was a small but comfortable apartment in the center of town. It had a welcoming purple door to match the mare's coat, and the inside was cozy, if a bit sparse. There was little on the walls in terms of decorations, although the mantel was filled with all sorts of photographs, presumably from friends and family. Everything was very neat, and it gave the sense of very little living was actually done there. The mare didn't seem nearly as comfortable here as in the schoolhouse.

Cheerilee sat the cage down by the window where he could catch the last light of the setting sun, putting out some food and water for him. She made herself a small bite to eat, barely more than a lettuce and tomato sandwich, before settling down with some worksheets and her red-marking quill. Bronzewing dozed a bit to the rhythmic scratch of it against the paper, awakening a couple hours later.

Night had fallen, though the apartment was still brightly lit. Cheerilee was no longer marking; instead she was fumbling with a pretty chain, which she was attempting to wear around her neck. She executed a complicated set of maneuvers, requiring a lot of twisting of the neck and stretching of her limbs; honestly, Bronzewing wasn't sure how she even accomplished it, but somehow she managed to get the necklace on. She puffed out her chest to inspect her handiwork, and he saw that on the chain hung a silver flower, nearly identical to one of the smiling daises on her flank.

She smelled different, too; sweet, like flowers. Her actual scent that was, although her emotional aura was different as well. The teacher was usually surrounded by a feeling of kind confidence, though now she tasted nervous and excited and almost fluttery.

"I'm going out with a…friend," she said to Bronzewing, although he got the sense that she wasn't so much talking to him, but talking for the sake of talking. "I'm not really sure when I'm back. Sleep tight, Bronzewing."

The changeling let out a playful caw in response, but he was surprised. It had seemed to him that Cheerilee's entire life was her students; it was strange to think of her having friends.

But then, was it really so strange? All the colts and fillies at school did, clumping together into little cliques. Surely Cheerilee must have her own…herd, he supposed, and this must be like recess, where she got to go out and play.

It was that night that Bronzewing realised that despite having stayed in a pony school-house for nearly a week, he really didn't know much about the creatures. He resolved to find out as much as he could; information was power, his instincts told him. He knew that he probably wouldn't learn much from inside the cave, and so he spent the evening trying some basic spells, though he was still too tired to do anything too fancy.

Later that night- although he didn't know if it truly counted as late for a pony, forcing his magical experiments to stop. Honestly, though, Bronzewing wasn't sure if Cheerilee would have noticed even if he'd kept going. She seemed rather…distracted. A strange, stale smell seemed to hang around her and she swayed slightly, as though she wasn't quite sure where she was placing her hooves. However, she was still smiling and her aura was very bright and cheerful, so he decided her recess must have been fun. It was obvious, however, that he had a lot to learn about the ponies he lived with.

So that weekend became a time of learning for the changeling. It seemed that Cheerilee didn't get much more of a break after that night; the next day she lay in bed until the sunlight through the curtains made her get up, and then stumbled around, moaning. The rest of the weekend seemed to be spent with her either diligently marking and writing lesson plans, bustling around running errands, or sleeping. There was a surprisingly large amount of sleeping.

It was while Cheerilee was doing the latter two that Bronzewing began to test his skills.

First, he had set himself to the task of getting out of his cage. Of course, he could have just changed into a snake a slipped out, but the changeling was itching to try something new and test his skills. He had spent a long hour or two trying to recreate a spell he'd spied in one of his Memories, opening a lock, before eventually giving up and trying another approach. He tried telekinesis , after remembering Sweetie-Bell's attempts the other day, and found it much easier. It really wasn't that much different from holding something in his beak, though he was using his mind, not his body. It took a couple attempts to even lift a sheet of paper off a table, and after that he was clumsy, scattering things everywhere. Soon, however, he gained enough control to pick up the key to his cage. It floated slowly across the room, glowing green and shaking slightly. Breathing heavily from exertion he managed to fit in into his lock and turn it; and finally, the cage swung open. He was free!

Suddenly, he made Cheerilee's entire apartment a classroom of his own to explore.

Reverting back to his true changeling form to save energy, he would roam around the rooms. He explored the kitchen, and even pecked at some seeds and raisins she had stored away, finding it tastier than the boring protein kibble, but still nowhere as satisfying as love. He burrowed around in a closet filled with hats and scarves and all sorts of strange clothes he didn't quite see the point in. At one point he even tried bouncing on the mare's bed, but had found it too close to flying to his taste, and wobbled unsteadily back to the ground as quickly as he could.

One time, he even ruffled through Cheerilee's writing desk, scrambling up onto a chair and fluttering his wings to give him an extra boost. It was covered in writing; glancing at it, Bronzewing decided it was boring and ignored it. There was a little pot of red ink which he nearly managed to tip over; he caught it with his magic just in time. There was a pretty black quill which the changeling thought amusing to bat around, and a funny stamp that said "GOOD WORK!"

There were also gifts. Cards, candles, origami, pictures- all sorts of presents from the students, all neatly arranged in and on the desk. They ranged from the simple to the ornate, hand-crafted to expensive, some faded with age, but they all had a feeling of sincerity about them

"Dear Cheerilee," one said, "You're the best-est teacher ever, and I love you so much. XOXO, Morning Dew."

Another was a beautiful wax candle, with a note stuck to it. "Thanks for inspiring me, and never giving up on me. Without you, I never would have discovered my special talent. I'll never forget you; Bright Spark."

Another was a small card cut into the shape of a muffin. The handwriting was messy, and the little message "luv yo so much, Chearalee, Hapy Hearts' Warming, Dinky" was horribly misspelled, but a strange feeling welled up in Bronzewing when he read it.

So much love. The cards were just paper and ink, but somehow love seemed to cling to them. Somehow, it almost seemed more permanent than the fleeting auras that surrounded everypony. These messages wouldn't disappear; and any time she wanted, Cheerilee could read them, and remember all the students who loved and cared for her. It was really sweet, but it left Bronzewing feeling hollow.

All the students loved him….but they didn't, not really. They loved Bronzewing the hawk, not the nameless little changeling without a Hive. Reading all the notes and cards, the changeling's loneliness welled up and threatened to swallow him once again, until he was forced to carefully close drawers and slink away from the desk.

Despite the loneliness that haunted him, Bronzewing wasn't a changeling that liked to dwell, and he quickly set himself to a new task- seeing if he could teach himself how to turn into a snake- though for the rest of the weekend he stubbornly refused to even glance at the desk.

When he grew tired (which was quite often, for such extensive magic usage was very draining for one so young) he would slip back into his cage, locking it magically behind him, changing back into his hawk form. Sometimes he would tuck his head beneath his feathered wing, and fall into a deep peaceful sleep. Other times he would sit there, wrapped in memories, exploring everything from the knowledge of far-away lands to peaceful pony suburbia he had inherited from his Hive. Often, however, he would just sit and watch. Cheerilee had positioned his cage so that it looked out on the street outside, and Bronzewing loved to watch the ponies milling about. Some would hurry, rushing to get from one place to another, while others would dawdle, browsing the windows of shops and giving cheerful smiles to friends. One pink pony in particular seemed to have something to say to everypony, and Bronzewing had never seen an aura of emotions quite so bright and bursting with love. She and many others even stopped by his window to give a happy grin.

The weekend lasted less than three days, but Bronzewing matured a lot in this time. For a pony, he was ridiculously young, and most folks wouldn't have expected someone his age to do anything but lie in a crib and cry. But changelings are very different to ponies, and he was growing up fast. On Sunday night as he crept around the darkened apartment he finally began to perfect his telekinesis, and he felt like the possibilities of his other powers stretched endless before him.

When Monday rolled around and Cheerilee carried the changeling back to the schoolhouse, it felt as if he'd been away for much longer than a weekend. He greeted the familiar furniture and decorations like old friends, excitement building in his heart. As far as he was concerned, he was an older changeling now, much more capable and experience than the hatchling who had left the classroom barely three days ago, and it felt almost like he was returning to his childhood home. The mundane routine of class which had many of the students cursing the fact that the weekend had come to an end gave Bronzewing and infinite supply of joy and comfort.

There was one thing, however, which Bronzewing realised that he still didn't enjoy.

Exercise time.

For the past half-hour the Cutie-Mark Crusaders had been trying everything in their power to finally coax the bird to take wing, and had failed once again. Frustration was building on all their faces, but they kept at it. In her mouth Sweetie-Bell had a toy mouse of some sort. She held it out to Apple-Bloom, who started squeezing a packet of ketchup all over it.

"There," she said, mumbling a bit due to the condiment pack in her mouth. "Tha' looks like blood, I reckon."

Sweetie-Bell shrugged. "I dunno. It just looks like you covered dropped a carrot-dog on an old stuffed toy."

Scootaloo looked just as doubtful. "Are you sure Spike was right about this? That thing doesn't look tasty at all."

"That's just cos we don't eat meat," Apple-Bloom said frankly, and they all grimaced. The three herbivores didn't even want to think of eating an animal's flesh, but if they could coax there class-pet to finally fly, they would try anything.

"Okay, here goes nothing…." Sweetie-Belle said, and gripped the battered mouse toy with her lilac magic. Her telepathic hold wasn't very strong, but she managed to dangle it in front of the hawk, wiggling it to make it look half alive. "Look at the little mousy! Fresh and juicy! Do you want it, Bronzewing? I bet you do!"

The changeling regarded them blankly. Sometimes he suspected the ponies didn't think him very smart. What in Equestria would want to eat that old thing?

"It's really tasty! C'mon, you want to eat it?" she jerked the mouse away suddenly, as if to tempt him. "Come on, jump to get it! It's no far! C'mon!"

The unicorn was getting into it, flailing the stuffed toy about more and more. With all three of the fillies egging him on, the mouse started to sway and bounce so quickly that Bronzewing didn't think he'd be able to catch it even if he wanted to. Finally, growing distracted, Sweetie lost her hold half-way through a swing; the glittering magic disappeared, and the stuffed toy's momentum caused it to sail through the air and into the bushes, leaving a little ketchup contrail behind it.

Sweetie-Belle started after it. "Oops."

"Ugh," groaned Scootaloo. "Great job."

"Hey! I was trying my best!"

"Well that clearly wasn't good enough," the pegasus said shortly.

An expression of hurt appeared on the white filly's face. Apple-Bloom stepped forward, frowning. "That ain't very nice, Scootaloo. We're just trying to help!"

"Whatever," Scootaloo said, turning away.

Apple-Bloom shot her a dark look, and stomped her foot. "C'mon, Sweetie," she said, "Let's go get the stupid toy from the bushes."

The two of them cantered off towards where they'd seen the toy fall, but Scootaloo didn't even watch them leave, instead turning her gaze on the hawk. Her emotions were grim, as was her voice. "You know, you could have jumped up and caught it. It wouldn't have been that hard."

Bronzewing couldn't think of a response.

"Just….just- UGH!" with that last scream she waved her front hoof, trying to dislodge the bird attached to her leg. There was a flurry of feathers, and an angry squawk as Bronzewing nearly fell to the ground, before finally managed to regain his perch, pressing his claws down a little harder than necessary.

"Why won't you just fly already!" Scootaloo angrily exclaimed.

But the changeling was resolute, and held onto Scootaloo's arms in a death-grip.

"I mean, it's not like your wings are too small. They're almost bigger than mine!" she said, fluttering her own wings uselessly. "You just need to try! There's nothing stopping you."

Yeah, nothing stopping me from hitting the ground, Bronzewing thought wryly.

That said, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the filly. She seemed to want this so bad; her desperation hung around her like a cloud, blending into anger and frustration. It was almost enough to make him try flying, just to see her feel better.

What Diamond Tiara had said echoed in his ears. "You and Scootaloo make a great pair- the two giant chickens of Equestria!

His feathers still bristled at what she said. At the time, he hadn't been particularly offended by what Diamond Tiara had said to him, just that haughty, insulting tone. But now Bronzewing remembered how many times he'd seen the filly tease Scootaloo, her nose turned up in a distasteful sneer, and he began to wonder…

Never once had Bronzewing seen Scootaloo fly. She had used her wings to catch things, to cool herself down, even as propellers for her scooter, but never once had she taken to the air herself.

Sympathy unfurled in the changeling's heart. To be a pegasus was to fly, he knew. Their entire life style was centered around the sky- and if she couldn't fly, how could she be a pegasus? He knew what that was like. Without a Hive, sometimes he hardly felt like a changeling himself…

Bronzewing wasn't willing to try flying, and neither did he know a spell to help Scootaloo take wing. But his heart ached, and he wanted desperately to dispel the dark cloud of emotion that hung around her….to make her smile again…

"Are you even listening to me?" Scootaloo shouted angrily at the hawk. "All I want you to do is-"

Bronzewing's amber eyes flared green, and Scootaloo stopped mid-sentence.

Her eyes, too, changed colour, and stared blankly ahead. All tension disappeared from her muscles, to the point where she nearly slumped to the ground. Her jaw went slack.

Like a fresh breeze clearing away a cloudy sky, all the unhappiness drifted from her mind.

With the spell cast the green light faded from Bronzewing's eyes; he took a deep breath, wincing from a sudden wave of exhaustion. Despite the energy the spell cost, however, he felt a deep satisfaction well up in his heart.

He'd barely settled down onto Scootaloo's arm before he was greeted by the thunder of cantering hooves. Sweetie-Belle and Apple-Bloom came bursting from the bushes, the little fake rat dangling in the grip of the unicorn's lilac magic.

"Okay, we got the toy," Apple-Bloom said, though she stopped when she saw her friend, staring blankly at nothing. "Uh, Scoots, are ya okay?"

"Hmm?" she answered distantly, gaze still unfocused. "Yeah."

Sweetie and Apple-Bloom exchanged glances.

"Are you sure?" the unicorn asked. "Because you seemed kinda….mad before."

Scootaloo shook her head, finally coming out of her trance. A small distracted smile played at her lips. "No, I'm fine."

There was an awkward pause.

"I have a bit of a headache," she admitted after a moment. She didn't seem particularly bothered by this fact. She didn't feel particularly bothered by anything, really. Everything felt…great.

Her friends clearly didn't share Scootaloo's sudden calm. If anything, they were a little confused. The pegasus was hot-headed, and not a pony who easily dropped a bad mood. When the school-bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, they eagerly urged their friend to class, saying that maybe Cheerilee would give her something for the head-ache. Anything to make her act less weird.

Bronzewing felt mostly oblivious to most of this. He was too busy basking in the sweet emotions that hung around Scootaloo, and his own pride. Of all the spells he had practiced and learned over the weekend, he thought he now knew which one was his favourite.