Welcome to Wolves and Lambs! Although this is a standalone story, it is also a side story to my other MLP fanfiction, Red Velvet's Memoirs. Some of the main characters - Red Velvet himself and Alias - were first introduced in Red Velvet's Memoirs, and a character introduced here may have plot importance there in the future. As usual, I encourage readers to visit the whole story in its original format on Tumblr (the blog is redvelvetrecalls) for quicker updates and the addition of a question-and-answer function.

Disclaimer: I do not own My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I own only the content within this story.

Chapter 1

I heard the angry clomping of hooves passing the guard checkpoint before I could see anypony. My cell offered good visibility of every cell across from me, and (in reflections) all my neighbors on my own side, but I couldn't see much outside of other prisoners and storage space. Still, I knew it was Alias before I could see her. She was always angry if she was going to see me, which was a hint, but I wasn't sure until I heard the footsteps of the two guards as they fell into step behind her. There was subtle hesitation to their deference – Alias did outrank them, but she wasn't really in the same branch of Celestia's service. It was the hesitation of military deferring to nonmilitary. "Alias," I greeted cordially just before we came into view of each other. She had arrived in her default form, as I had guessed – this was official business. I closed my laptop and slid it under my cot.

"Mr. Velvet," she returned curtly, and began to continue, but I cut her off by greeting the guards as well.

"Peregrine, Lightning Strike, good afternoon. You look well. How are the foals, Peregrine?"

"Oh, they're swell," one of the guards replied cheerfully. "Albatross just passed his flight exam with flying col-" At this point, the other guard (Lightning Strike) had elbowed Peregrine in the side, shutting him up, and they both went back to glaring at me.

"No time for pleasantries," Alias said. She nodded to Peregrine, who unlocked the door to my cell. I hadn't expected this level of intimacy, and I was impressed enough (and wary enough) that I actually got up for this encounter. Lightning Strike followed her inside while Peregrine guarded the door. "Mr. Velvet… we have a problem that you are uniquely qualified to solve. You are a very intelligent pony who specializes in the study of thought and the mind. You've been trained in these studies and expressing your findings on the subject. Most significantly, you know firsthand the way a monster blends in with a crowd and pretends to be normal."

"Oh, Alias…" I smile slowly. "How can you say 'no pleasantries' and then shower me with such compliments?"

Alias scowled. "This is not the time for your games, Mr. Velvet. There's a changeling on the loose!"

"Besides you, that is?" I drawled.

I saw the punch coming, I swear to you all, I did. At my peak, I could've dodged it, but that was cold comfort when the hoof smashed into my cheekbone. It was all I could do to steer my fall so I landed cleanly on my cot. Lightning Strike was between Alias and I in an eyeblink, wings flared and holding her back, but glaring at me. "Mr. Velvet, I've already addressed how I feel about that accusation," Alias seethed, pushing her mane back into place. Her breathing didn't calm so quickly. "You should pick your words around me with the same care you apply toward everypony else."

"I've made my first deduction," I slurred from the bed. "You are not the culprit. That blow was authentic." I wiped my face (blood was beginning to trickle from my mouth where my teeth cut my cheek) and straightened up, ignoring the pain and dizziness. I was stronger than that, and there were other pains that this pain drew my attention from anyway. "Now, this changeling has – unlike you and what you represent – never done me a single wrong. I will not allow myself to be pressed into service for free. What can you offer me, beyond a cessation of…" I swallowed a bit of blood, "…physical brutality?"

"There will be not internet access in the dungeons until this matter is resolved, even for the guards." Her eyes drifted away to the left side. "Standard lockdown procedure, of course."

"My sentence does not include actively helping you, Alias, and you know it. Don't think you can secure my assistance just by holding my privileges hostage. Offer me something real."

Alias eyed me carefully. "Freedom is, of course, out of the question, which means a sum of money is also of no use to you. Beyond that… why don't you begin negotiations?"

I thought carefully. Perhaps money had its use after all, considering my newfound daughter… no, I already had bits to offer that she hadn't accepted yet. Besides, even I know I can't just buy forgiveness. Well, if not freedom, then… "I want a transfer. To a lower-security wing of the dungeon." Lightning Strike quirked an eyebrow, and I added, "I'm too frail at this point to cause any harm anyway. I just want the occasional hour of fresh air and sunlight, grass under my hooves…"

"Can the bullshit," Alias snapped. "Celestia's judgment of life without parole can't be edited, because she's invoked a sovereign right to cut you off from the moon and the sun. Besides, I don't believe for a second you wouldn't try to escape – or worse, take over the prison. We have enough trouble with gang formation on the medium-security level without throwing an evil psychologist into that wing."

"Okay," I said with a polite smile. That would've been nice, but now at least this request would sound more reasonable. "The food here is terrible. I want to eat better."

Alias scoffed. "You eat what all the prisoners eat!"

"Buckin' cannibal," Lightning Strike added.

I scoffed right back, somewhat more softly. "I'm not pleading for a platter of pony parmigiana every night. It doesn't even have to be meat, I just don't want to eat garbage twice a day like a swine. Up above us, in the castle, there are kitchens, yes? And there are live-in servants, yes? Do the servants eat what the prisoners down here eat?"

"Yes, yes, and no," Alias said coolly.

"That's it, then. All I'm asking is to eat what the Princesses' attendants eat. I'm sure they're not fed the finest Canterlot cuisine every night, but I'm equally certain that they eat better than I currently do."

"What you're asking for is an indefinite service," Alias replied with a frown. "I'll give you six months of the servant food."

"Six months? And then back to the gruel?" I recoiled. "Why don't you just disembowel me now with that horn of yours and be done with it?" I threw myself down on the bed. "Strike me down, with ALL of your anger! Smite me, o mighty smiter!" She didn't look amused. I straightened up, brushing my own mane back and smiling cheekily. "Continuous servant-quality food, and you can add my services to your roster indefinitely as a criminal psychologist. Otherwise, I walk… well, I walk to the back of my cell and stare intensely at the wall until you leave."

Alias flashed me a scowl, but it wasn't a savage one. She was on her own turf here, negotiating with somepony she hated. To her, this was just Wednesday. "Okay, but no food upgrade until the changeling is caught and a letter, signed by the Warden or Vice Warden, acknowledges your significant role in catching it."

I frowned. "Done," I said, and we shook on it. "Now, let's hear everything you can give me on this case. I can already taste the real carrots."

Alias telekinetically procured a stack of papers, including a few photographs, from a hitherto-unnoticed saddlebag. Like Alias's preferred form itself, the bag was low-key, aggressively so. "We believe the changeling had been posing as a guard called Pauldron Born. We found Sergeant Pauldron Born dead in the back of a storage closet a few hours ago. Coroner estimated it had been a few days – we found him because of the stink."

"And how long has Pauldron Born been missing from his post?" I asked, already guessing the answer.

"Same amount of time since we found the corpse," Alias said. I was right. "Suddenly, vanished into thin air."

"And you're sure it's not escaped the dungeon?"

"Give us some credit." Alias grinned confidently. "We had this dungeon locked down faster than you could say "pony pox."

"It's taken another disguise, then. We've already established that it knows not to assume a form and leave the real McCoy just trotting around, so it's in all likelihood killed again. It also knows you found the body last time, so it's probably sought some other method of hiding the corpse. Find the corpse, and you're that much closer to pinning it down."

Alias frowned. "'Closer' is nice. 'In my hooves before it kills again' would be nicer. What else can you give me?"

Meaning to start pacing in the back of my cell, I started to get up, but a wave of dizziness forced me to abandon that plan. I cursed my waning physical health – the idea that the blow to my head was at fault was not even worth considering. "Hmm… if I were the little bugger, I wouldn't keep impersonating guards. They've got the authority to move around, yes, but they're not always easy to bring down. Besides, falling into a pattern is a classic trap. Search the inmates this time."

Alias seemed pleased at this hint, at least. Good. Anything to keep the bitch off my back. "One thing's bothering me, though," she said. "Changelings feed on love. What's this one doing in a prison? Not that I expect a pony like you to know…"

"Love? I'm shocked, Alias, shocked. Love may be foreign to me, but you know how fascinated I am by foreign cultures." I saw my face reflected in her eyes. I'm not normally fond of my appearance in recent years, but the expression I wore was quite captivating – if I do say so myself. "I studied psychology in school because I was so curious about love, and because I wanted to know more about it. I've learned everything ever written about love and the other emotions – as a strength and a weakness both." I cleared my throat. "Speaking of which, I also did some research on changelings after meeting one in real life. They feed on other emotions, too, you know. Love is their favorite for its power and flavor, but it's not the only strong emotion. Some changelings develop a taste for negative emotions – despair, hate, pain, fear…"

I heard my fellow inmates, Black Egg and White Snow, echo my statement almost reverently. "Hate and fear…" they whispered, and I felt the temperature drop a few degrees. Alias and the guards tensed, but the twins backed down first (albeit with a giggle), and warmth returned to the room.

I grimaced and continued. "Hate and fear nourish many dark creatures. This changeling is a cold-blooded killer as well as a shapeshifting insectoid creature; I suspect it's no different. And if it can situate itself in a prison such as ours long enough to drink in the disharmony from its surroundings… if it can grow bloated like a tick… I suspect it will become a very powerful force to be reckoned with."

Alias shuddered. "Well, hopefully with this information we can make sure it doesn't happen."

"Smoke it out. If you can't catch it, keep it changing disguises. That will slow the growth of its power."

"You said this thing kills whenever it adopts a new disguise, Mr. Velvet. I'd rather come up with a strategy that minimizes deaths on my watch!"

"Then come up with one…" I smiled politely. "…on your own. You have my recommendation. Now if you'd be so kind, I'm quite ill and need my rest."

Alias huffed as she stomped out of my cell. "You'll get your reckoning one day, Mr. Velvet. Be patient."