It was a changeling all right—shorter than she’d ever been, with a purplish body and pink fins a few shades lighter than Ocellus’s. Her cutie mark was gone, and her eyes had lost their slits, becoming multifaceted and insectoid. She shivered at a chill breeze blowing in from outside, which reached her shell without any coat of fur to insulate her. It had worked—she was a changeling.