It was a strange feeling, walking amidst aliens so openly like this, hidden in plain sight. Each and every one of them knew what he was—if not by experience from when he was last here, then definitely from word of mouth. Every one of them was potential food to him, and none of them knew it. It was especially strange that it was changelings of all creatures he was walking amongst. They kept their distance, but only because he was the very image of some beggar changeling with a ragged cloak, a bandaged leg, a broken fang, and his latest prize clutched in his mouth. He wondered if this was how changelings felt all the time walking amidst ponies.