Title:           Ephemeral (Mothpony Story) PART 1
Author:          AngryWino
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/aVWRhYQg
First Edit:      Friday 29th of January 2016 02:42:06 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Wednesday 9th of March 2016 01:06:26 PM CDT

>It's another beautiful day in the Everfree Forest, as you ponder the great variety of life here.
>You are Anonymous, the pegasus.
Don't question it.
>You're humming with excitement as you head back towards your home / research station at the tree line.
>Most ponies were scared of this wild place.
>Only a few hardy souls, like the Apple Family and that yellow pegasus who lives only a couple of miles away, regularly venture here.
>But you love it!
>Many of the creatures here are only known through stories, and haven't been studied in centuries.
>Those ancient texts you remember from the academy were more superstition than science, and you had decided they could do with some updating.
>Naturally, you were just the pony for the job.
>Today had been a good day.
>You had seen manticores!
>Not the fierce, snarling beasts you read in those dusty old books.
>You had seen a female, sunning herself on a rock, as she watched her cubs playing in a clearing.
>You had gotten some great pictures.
>Maybe if other ponies understood the Everfree Forest a little better, they wouldn't be afraid of it.
>Finally you emerge from the canopy of trees, and pause momentarily to bask in the sunlight, before continuing home.
>You maintain a small subsistence garden, so you don't have to go into town for food as often.
>Not exactly a recluse, you, but more of a dedicated researcher.
>Passing your garden, you notice something wrong.
>Several plants at the edge are missing.
>On closer inspection, the remains convince you they were pulled up and eaten.
/In fact, there is the culprit./
>One disadvantage of living so close to the forest...
>Unplanned encounters with the wildlife.
>The fuzzy, black and gold striped freeloader is munching on your celery as you approach.
"Hey!"
>It stops chewing, looking at you with wide, black eyes.
 
>It's about the size of your foreleg.
>You're rather startled by the appearance of its face.
/If I didn't know better, I'd call those features equine.../
>After only a brief pause, it resumes eating your celery.
"HEY!"
>This time you are ignored.
"Alright you, there's plenty of good forage around here, so there's no need to go eating my groceries."
>With that you set down your gear, and pick up the fluffy invader.
>It continues munching on your celery.
>You take wing, and fly the short distance back to the tree line, setting the pesky critter on a tree branch amongst some leaves.
"There you go! No harm done, just stay out of my garden, alright?"
>You fly back to your gear and pick it up, carrying it inside your cottage.
>To your annoyance, your forelegs develop an itch where you had touched the creature's hair.
/I guess there's some irritating substance there, a defense against predators./
>A scrub in the sink and some topical ointment takes care of the problem, allowing you to transcribe your notes into your journal.
>Out of curiosity, you rummage through your field guides, trying to identify the fluffy crop raider.
>You can't find an entry for it in any of them, although you find an entry for a species of tiger moth, whose larval form looks close.
/Looks like it's not documented./
>You regret getting rid of it now, it might have been interesting to find out more about it.
>Still, crops are safe.
>So after reloading your camera and marking the film you just removed for development, you turn in for the night.
 
======
 
>No alarm clock for you.
>You rise, feeling refreshed, when the sun comes in through your window.
>Triple-S, yeah, you know the routine.
>Quick trip into town, drop off your film for processing, pick up a few things you need.
>The filly behind the counter at the film store flirts shamelessly with you, but you're concentrating on your academic career now, so you don't notice much.
 
>You decide to stop in the local pastry shop for a snack and coffee before heading back out.
>The pink mare who works there can be kind of annoying, but she's always cheerful, and damn does she bake good stuff.
>It's nice to get in touch with civilization once in a while, but you do prefer the peaceful majesty of the forest.
>So thanking her for the excellent croissants, and politely declining her invitation to a party, you head back home.
>Where you are greeted with a shocking sight.
>Fully a third of your garden is gone now.
>In its place is the happily munching fluffy thing, now nearly as big as your torso.
"HEY, YOU!!"
>It stops, looks briefly at you, and carries on eating.
>You put your things down inside your door and go down to your garden.
>Picking it up, you notice that it's much heavier now.
>Remembering the itchy sensation, you quickly put it down again, some distance from your plants, to give yourself time.
>Heading inside, muttering to yourself, you wash your fore hooves, then put on something to protect yourself from the irritant.
>By the time you get back outside, it has resumed feeding.
>You pick it up and settle for putting it in your potting shed while you figure out what to do.
>It was close to harvest time anyhow, so you decide you'll need to bring in some of your vegetables to protect them.
>But first, you construct an enclosure for your guest, so it can't eat all your crops.
>And you'd quite like to study it.
 
======
 
>One quick construction job later, you take the fuzzy thing out of your shed and put it in its new pen.
"Here you go."
>You put in a pile of stalks and other roughage, mostly the by-products of harvesting.
>The fuzzy thing looks at you, then carries on munching happily.
"Guess that'll tide you over."
>You salvage what you can from the munched crops, bringing the vegetables inside and giving the stalks and leaves to the invader.
>It seems to look at you gratefully as you bring each fresh load.
 
>It goes on like this for about a week.
>You photograph the fuzzy thing from various angles as it eats.
>Eating is all it seems to do.
>And growing.
>You manage to weigh and measure it, and start a chart of its growth.
>You conclude that its facial features are definitely equine, though you can't imagine why.
>It seems more like a giant caterpillar otherwise.
>You head to the neighboring farm for some supplies.
>"Shoot, this stuff is all garden waste, we were just gonna make fertilizer of it anyhow," the orange farm pony tells you.
>"Eeyup," her brother chimes in.
>"I ain't sure what you want it for, but you can have the whole load for ten bits."
"Thanks!"
>You pay the agreed price and haul the stuff home.
>To your astonishment, the fluffy thing has outgrown its enclosure.
>In fact, carrying the remains of the enclosure on its back like a snail's shell, it's in your garden again.
>Removing the debris, you set it down with the pile of fibrous greens, which it happily tucks in to.
>Your garden is all but gone, now.
>You're going to have to shop for groceries this season.
>Saving the remaining vegetables, you decide the fluffy thing can have what's left.
>Grumpily, you head inside and transcribe your notes into your journal, and plot the fuzzy thing's growth on a graph.
>It seems to have peaked, actually.
>It's getting late, and the day has been unusually tiring, hauling all that garden waste back from the farm.
>You decide to turn in early.
 
======
 
>Another sunrise, another day.
>Triple-S, trying to feel better.
>You look out the window to the remains of your garden.
>There is no sign of the fuzzy thing.
>Curiously, you head outside.
>Some of the food you'd gotten for it is still there, but the creature itself isn't.
/Did something eat it after all?/
>Turning back to go inside, you are startled to see something you hadn't noticed on your way out.
>Under the eaves of your roof, a shiny brown mass is attached with strands of white filament.
 
>It's pretty big, almost as big as you, in fact.
>Getting a ladder and your camera, you cautiously inspect it.
>You photograph it, measure it, and write pages full of notes.
>A reply to your letter to the academy confirmed for you that this species is unknown, and you were asked to document it carefully.
>So you do.
>But after the fourth day of no changes, you decide you need a break, and head in to town.
>You stop first at the film store, with three rolls for processing.
>You pick up your developed negatives and prints, and buy additional film.
>That filly at the counter tries to engage you in conversation, asking where you live and what you do.
>You respond politely, but fail to pick up on the cues she's sending you, or remember her name and where she lives when she tells you.
>You drop by the garden store to buy seeds to plant new crops with.
>One nice thing about living near the Everfree Forest - the topsoil is very good.
>You're also out of nectar, which you like to use as a sweetener when you bake, so you get some of that too.
>And finally you stop at your favorite bakery.
>"Hey, Nonny!" the pink mare calls cheerfully as you take your accustomed seat.
"Hi, the usual, please."
>"Comin' right up!"
>You relax as you read through one of your older journals, chuckling at some of your notations and marveling at how much you've learned since then.
>A poofy pink mane appears at your elbow, sliding a plate and a cup in front of you.
>"Here you go!"
"Thanks."
>You take a bite from one of your croissants, and sip some coffee.
>"How come you never talk to anypony?"
"I'm talking to you, right now, aren't I?"
>"Not really..."
>You look up from your journal.
>The pink mare has slid into the seat opposite you, studying you with her wide blue eyes.
"Yeah, really. These are words coming out of my mouth, they indicate that I am talking to you."
 
>"They indicate that you're speaking to me, and that you heard what I said, but I only see you in here rarely, and you're always by yourself."
"Alright,"
>You close your journal and return her gaze.
"What do you want to talk about?"
>"The time has come," the pink mare says, grinning, "to talk of other things,"
>"Of ships and shoes and sealing wax," Her grin gets wider.
>"Of cabbages and kings..." and wider still.
>"And why the sea is boiling hot," In fact, she grins more with each line.
>"And whether pigs have wings..."
/I guess she just can't take anything seriously./
"And that's why I never talk to anypony."
>You return to your journal, quickly dismissing the nonsense from your mind.
>You feel a hoof on your shoulder and look up, meeting those blue eyes under the poofy pink mane again.
>"You really should lighten up and come to one of my parties, Nonny. You need to meet some friends."
"Maybe when I'm not so busy, thanks."
>You return to your journal, and the pink mare shakes her head and walks away.
>After finishing your croissants and coffee, you head home.
 
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