Accidental Sunshine (2) (Patreon)

Grey-17 did everything she could to help the injured creature.

She was not a bug of course, so none of her insides resembled what Grey had learned about anatomy. The creature seemed to have only one heartbeat, and a seemingly endless supply of deep red hemolymph that pulsed out the wound.

That was her first and most urgent problem to solve, or else watch the creature she wanted to save die right in front of her.

But the furry gray thing had already given her more love than she could find on her own in weeks of travel—enough to make a little green slime. Grey-17 covered the wound with goo, easing the pony's painful twitches.

"Stops it from hurting," she explained, once she had finished. "Makes it easier to heal."

Easier, maybe—but it would only stop her losing hemolymph, not repair the damage already done. That would take time, or powerful magic. 

Even the Queen rarely spent the effort it took to heal a bug so badly hurt. Perhaps she might for one of her favorite males, like Pharynx. But the numberless workers? Grey-17 would never get that treatment.

"I don't know how to heal you better," she explained, voice small and nervous. "I never learned how. Not... smart enough for magic."

The creature looked up when she spoke. She had more wounds than the one Grey-17 had sealed, burns and scratches from the crash. Despite it all, the true appearance of the creature underneath remained. She was covered in fur all over, with a yellow mane and a mark of bubbles on her burned flank.

She had a soft voice, gentler than any bug Grey-17 had ever known. Every word brought powerful food, though her body was broken, and her pain must be extreme. "Never seen... a pony like you before."

"Oh, because I'm not a pony." She held out a little pot of water to the creature, low enough for her to sip. This was one of the many useful things that fell out the side of her object, a metal bowl that held water just like one made of slime. Only the metal one didn't leak. "I'm a bug. Are you a pony?"

She shuddered and coughed, clutching at the wound in her chest with one of her hooves. Her wings were missing feathers now, and several of them looked scorched, melted. If she was in there a few seconds more, Grey-17 would probably look just like her. "I'm a pegasus pony. These..." She opened one, then whimpered and closed it again.

"Celestia, I... don't even know your name. Who are you, bug? The creature who saved me..."

"I don't have a name yet," she said, settling onto her haunches. Her wings buzzed on her back, then folded still again. "I know I'll earn one eventually. Until then, I'm Grey-17."

The pony gaped at her, covering her mouth with one hoof. "Your name is... a color? And some numbers?" She shook her head, making a frustrated sound. "You saved me, Grey-17. You deserve a name."

"What's yours?" she asked. "You already earned your name."

"Ditzy Do," the pony said. "I've never heard of a creature who..." Then she started coughing, she rolled to one side, and her eyes drifted closed. "Time Turner would... or maybe he wouldn't... might be scared, looking at you."

"Many creatures are," Grey-17 said, in what she hoped was a friendly, helpful way. How could she not respond with the same kind of affection the creature showed her? She did not yet have enough love to share, assuming there were other bugs—her own body would have to heal from its weeks of starvation first. But if this continued, she would soon have food in abundance.

"But that's why we can change! Into other stuff, so we're less scary. I could show you!"

The pony opened one eye as though she might watch. Then she whimpered and slumped back down to the dirt again. "I trust you. Saved me... from the fire, and all. I guess you're an honest bug, Grey-17. Never... met one before." She shivered, pulling her legs up against her chest.

"You're cold," Grey-17 said. "I could get something burning from your... flying burrow."

That brought a feeble smile to the pony's face. "Airship." She struggled into a sitting position, bracing herself up against the dead tree Grey-17 had picked as her shelter. "Airship. This was... Time Turner's..." She looked up into the evening sky, as though searching for something. But whatever she was hunting for, she didn't find it. "He's going to hate himself after this. Blame... himself. When I die."

"Don't do that!" Grey-17 said. "My teacher, Otic taught me every lesson. 'Survival is your most important directive. No matter what, you have to get home. Bugs are counting on you.'"

Ditzy's smile widened. She thought all that was reassuring somehow, maybe even funny. "They sound like they... really cared about you."

Without realizing what she was doing, Grey-17 moved closer to the pony. Bringing the fire over to keep her warm would be more difficult and risked burning her. When a bug felt too cold, the solution was usually to get closer to the rest of the brood.

"Otic? She's one of the bugs who believed in me. None of the other hunters would train me. 'She's too small!' 'She didn't develop properly; she'll never bring back love.' 'She can barely fly without hitting the walls.'" With each one Grey-17 did her best impression of the hunter who had said them. Without transforming, her impression was only so accurate. But Ditzy didn't know them, she wouldn't complain if Grey-17 got things a little wrong.

"The queen might've listened to them, if it wasn't for Otic. She always took a chance on me. Gave me extra time, stayed after to review. Even let me graduate after the other hunters. Even if it meant the worst assignment in the whole swarm."

The pony's eyes glazed over, unfocused. She hacked and coughed again, struggling for air. "I... Grey-17, I have... can I ask you something? Before... I don't think I'm gonna get another chance."

The furry gray creature had moisture running down her face, two faint trails. Strange that she had the water left for that, after leaking so much of it onto the floor. 

There was nothing for Grey-17 to do but hold on as tight as she could, leaning close so she didn't have to speak as loudly. "I am not very good at a lot. I'm the runt of the Grey brood, Ditzy. Slowest and worst at... everything."

"There is a... pony, who built this airship. He... warned me not to fly it so far. That lightning strike... wasn't his fault." She moved quickly then, faster than Grey-17 had yet seen her move. One leg wrapped around her neck, turning her head so they were facing. Her breath was on her shell now, red fluid dripping down her lips. "Brown earth pony with an hourglass mark. Time Turner. Tell him... wasn't his fault. Promise."

She squirmed to escape, but now she wasn't strong enough. The pony held her fast, until she was satisfied. "I promise."

"Good." Her strength evaporated, replaced with an incredible wave of feeling. Relief, trust, and gratitude. "Good." She slumped back against the tree. "One more thing. If you can, find... somewhere to bury me. Don't wanna get eaten by coyotes. Know I won't feel it, but..."

The pony trailed off, her words fading to a long, exaggerated sigh. Grey-17 waited patiently for her to keep going—the pony was obviously scared, and needed whatever support she could give. But Ditzy Do never said anything again. Her heartbeat stopped, her eyes frozen staring out at nothing.

The love lasted a little longer—but that stopped a few seconds later. Grey-17 had her fill.

She stayed there a long time—much longer than made sense. This being was a stranger—no creature of the hive, owed no loyalty. But Grey-17 had tried to save her anyway, and still failed. I really am the worst at everything.

Her teacher would scold her for this, something about losing a perfect source of food.  All that energy spent rescuing her, wasted. 

She tried to shake the creature awake, once or twice. But Ditzy didn't respond. Her body was already starting to cool. "Sorry, pony. I don't know how to heal with magic. Even hunters don't learn that. And I'm not even a hunter yet."

She stood up, lowering the limp pony carefully to the ground. It was time to go, she would gather no more food here. She made it a few steps from the corpse before she stopped, staring back at the glassy-eyed pegasus. She had promised to do something for her.

Grey-17 turned back on her. "Bury you. Guess there's no graveyard burrow out here to use. See what I can do."

The fire was dimming by then, mostly embers and some red-hot metal she couldn't touch. But the crash had damaged the landscape more than just burning it. After a short walk, she found somewhere that might work as a burial burrow. Without the respect of joining the others on the pile—but Grey-17 didn't expect to find any more dead ponies here. 

Getting the corpse to the hole was harder. Ponies were bigger than bugs, at least a little. Given Grey-17's size, which meant she could barely even drag the pony along. That wouldn't do, not for someone who had fed her after weeks of starvation.

Grey-17 was bad at a lot of things, including changing shape. But with an example of how she was supposed to look right in front of her, even she could make a convincing copy. She drew on some of the love she'd harvested while this creature was still alive, letting it wash over her as she rarely did at home.

The Queen did not approve of any waste of magic, not while their food was scarce, and all their old hunting grounds were running dry. The feeling was still a little strange to her, her body going fuzzy with static and warm all over. In this case the transformation brought fur and feathers, so the warmth remained.

She took a step back a second later, breathing heavily from the exertion. "How did I—" She stopped. "Right. You're dead."

The pegasus was easier to copy than many of the other things she had tried with before. Almost the same shape, just a little bigger than she was naturally. Not having a horn would hamper levitating things around when she had to. But Grey-17 wasn't very good at doing that anyway.

Maybe the copy wasn't quite perfect after all. The pegasus in front of her had many little wounds, damaged feathers, and slime sealing the place where a large chunk of wood had pierced her. Grey-17 couldn't copy any of those things, no matter how hard she tried.

The change worked in the important ways. When she bent down, she found she was strong enough to get the dead pony over her shoulder. She took a slow path around the burned ship, careful not to get too close. Her feathers were even more sensitive to the heat than her old black coat had been, as Ditzy’s body showed her.

Eventually she reached the opening and lowered her inside. She slipped away into the dark and didn't make a sound for a long time.

"Goodbye, Ditzy Do," she said. "Your brood cannot be here with you. But I am... you, right now, so I hope you don't mind me." She nudged a nearby rock into the opening with her foreleg. It took longer to cover her—but eventually she managed. A few large rocks sealed the entrance, and she could kick dirt to cover the rest.

The burial tunnel used slime, of course, consuming the dead instead of letting them rot. But she didn't have the magic to make enough of that stuff.

Finally, Grey-17 planted her flank beside where the opening had been and looked up at the sky. "The brood should be with you until sunrise. I will sit in their place." So she did, watching diligent vigil over the dead pegasus until the sun finally crested the horizon.

It was soon joined by something else—a large yellow object, with a sack connected by rope just like the thing that had burned. It was coming.