They're EVERYWHERE!

1988, 9999: 10

"Great thinking!" 36658 stops in its tracks and 57999 immediately starts looking for a way to load the second bag on 36658's back. The weight isn't a problem, rather the size of the cargo. Hopefully, though, 36658 won't need to run if 57999 does its job well.

"Thanks. Good luck, buddy!" whispers 36658.

57999 nods and darts north. Several moments later, it calls out to draw the pursuers' attention away from 36658.

"Your plants are pretty! Can I get some more later?"

"YES!" replies the angry voice.

"Wait, really?"

"WITH ARROWS!"

"Hey, I want those- oh wait..."

And the hunt begins anew.

***

In the changeling camp, 20100 has returned from its job helping ponies early, its return quickly explained by its shaky steps and sickly moaning.

"Ughhh..."

"And what happened to you?" asks 1988, opening his eyes as his meditation, planning, and maintaining the hivemind gets interrupted.

"Too much wood- hurk!" 20100 throws up on the ground, and quickly begins digging a hole next to the mess.

"Oh right, you were trying to make paper. How did that go?"

"Blurrrgh!" this time, 20100 hits the fresh hole.

"If it makes you feel any better, you can't make moving pictures with the water reed papyrus like you tried either."

"...it doesn't..." 20100 collapses on its butt.

"So... what went wrong? And don't mistake my asking for caring, I'm just bored and too starving to maintain the hive mind and try to seduce a pony at the same time."

"I ate too much... I think."

"So you just ate a bag of sawdust and hoped for the best?"

"Yes? One sec- bluuuurhghg!"

"I see that's your new puking hole. Right here in the camp," comments 1988.

"I'll fill it in afterwards. Don't worry."

"Maybe showing a basic level of foresight and finding a place away from the center of the camp when you first felt sick would have been better."

"Hindsight is number-number," groans 20100.

1988 sighs.

"Let's get back to the core of the problem - you really just ate sawdust and hoped to throw up paper?"

"It works for 36658 and -hurk!- 57999!"

"Yeah, two drones of the same genetic strain found one another. These days, that's basically a miracle. Do you even know if your digestion has any special properties?"

"What?"

"Look, you drones don't have enough self-control and knowledge to make your digestion work the way you want. Holes, even I can do only basic manipulations with my resin and venom."

"Then why do their tummies do exactly what they want?" pouts 20100.

"They got lucky that their interest aligns with their ability. That's all. Or they simply discovered what their biology was good for and stuck to it."

20100's ears droop and its face turns into a picture of pure misery. At least until its eyes bulge and it throws up again.

"But I like moving pictures..." the drone mumbles afterwards, "So does everyone else."