One question that has always intrigued me is what happens to demonic beings when immigrants move from their homelands. Irish-Americans remember the fairies, Norwegian-Americans the nisser, Greek-Americans the vrykólakas, but only in relation to events remembered in the Old Country. When I once asked why such demons are not seen in America, my informants giggled confusedly and said “They’re scared to pass the ocean, it’s too far,” pointing out that Christ and the apostles never came to America.
—Richard Dorson, “A Theory for American Folklore” (From Neil Gaiman's American Gods)
Zecora was many things for the ponies of Ponyville. She had been an “evil enchantress”, a wise mare, an exotic sight, a healer and a friend, but for herself, she was first, and foremost, a shaman, a wanderer of the dream worlds, a seeker of the mysteries of life...and death.
The last light of the Nightmare Night festival had been turned off, and the story she told the young shared, a story she herself had heard from the wiser, older zebra of her natal town, when she was small. The candies had been offered to the goddess of the night so as not to be gobled up by her, and most ponies were into their houses, going off to sleep their excitement and fright. Foals carried on their parent’s backs or running on sugar rush, teenagers yawning, tired of keeping the foals under their watch and of dancing and young adults going around, seeking for a bit more of hard cider or a companion to share the night.
Zecora saw how the Apples loaded their cart with the rest of the apples from the bobbing game, Big Mac in particular avoiding carefully the gaze of the mares, so as not to give them false hope in gaining his heart. Zecora was privy of his secret and not going to share it. She turned to look at the night, full of stars, the cold wind blowing wild from the depths of the Everfree forest. The few ponies still in the town center took the hint and quickened their paces, the games and other stalls quickly put out of the way. She saw Pinkie Pie, going around, looking for the last candies, and the tail end of Twilight's star studded cloak, disappearing into the library.
But as a seeker, Zecora could not sleep, not yet. Despite the night nearing its end, and the goddess gone, the Everfree forest was still very much awake, the ancient shadows plaguing it more active on that from all the days of the year, fed by the fear and mystery of the date. And she was there to pacify them and avoid their possibly bad intentions to harm the ponies of the town she considered home.
Not long ago, only some months before, she had heard of the disappearance of a young stallion into the forest, she suspected, more as a dare than anything else, but when two days after that, they had found his corpse, a painfully frightened expression on his face and no traces of physical damage, she knew it had to be something else in there. Especially when not even a month after, Thunderlane, who had been working on the wild clouds of the everfree had shared with anypony willing to hear, the story of the female voice calling him. That something had to be more dangerous than any dragon, Ursa or timberwolf.
She made her way to the forest, following the same way she did when going back to her home, admiring from afar the dark green of the leaves under the light of the moon and the shadows moving with the wind. She listened to the voices, carried by the moving air, telling her warnings and sweet promises of impossible things at the same time. She stood for a moment more at the very edge of the forest, just looking at the well worn path she had made every time she had visited the town.
And yet, when she was to enter, a vission in white appeared at the edge of her sight and she turned to see somepony she was yet to meet properly. Sunset Dust she thought, and waited patiently for the mare, who hadn’t raised her sight from her hooves in the way.
Up close, she could see the pony was wearing something the zebra had seen only in the lands to the south of Equestria. It was a beautiful white dress-like robe, whithout sleeves, that covered the pony’s cutiemark. It seemed very simple, but under the light of the moon, Zecora could see clearly the embroidered white flowers, which almost shone silver in the night. Her mane, a gray tinted with green, was done in two braids at the sides of her face, with only a small lily adorning it, woven into the strands of hair.
"Good night, my good friend, what brings you here, to the town’s end?" Zecora asked once the mare had reached the edge of the forest, making her jump in surprise.
"Wha...?" the mare asked, before turning to see whoever had talked to her. Zecora, disguised by the cloack she used to use to visit Ponyville, was in front of her and she had almost walked into her without noticing "Oh, so sorry" Dust said, backing up a couple of steps, her eyes going from one side to the other as if looking for a escape.
Zecora chuckled at the jumpy mare, before offering a hoof to her "Not to worry, I am alright, what brings you here so late in the night?" she repeated her question and caused the mare to fidget.
Dust reached for a little pouch around her waist and took out a piece of bread "I’m...bringing dead’s bread to the spirits of the Everfree" she said, blushing from the interrogation.
"Oh" Zecora said, remembering the traditions of the country to the south of Equestria. There were a lot of cultures there, but most shared the belief that in this, of all the nights, the spirits of their loved ones returned home for a visit, and a lot of the ponies, deer, donkeys and mules put on small offerings for them to eat and refresh. "to whom will you been offering, if you don’t mind my inquiring?"
The mare raised her head for once, to watch at ther directly in the eyes, for the first time in the night "The Ceh Taabay" she said in a voice that spoke volumes of her deference towards whoever was the spirit mentioned, and even after all those years working with the spirits of the great beyond, Zecora felt a shiver of anticipation and curiosity making her hair stand on end.
"I have never heard of those, are they spirits of your home?" she asked and the mare smiled for once, shaking her head.
"She... she’s only one, and she’s not from my family, not directly." Dust said, her eyes taking a far away look "She has come a longer way than I have, through past, through disbelief..." she trailed off, and looked at the zebra in a new light. She... she was a shaman, she remembered now. Zecora was a shaman, a worker of the nature and the spirits. Maybe the spirit would appreciate being remembered by somepony other than herself. "Would you like to meet her?" she asked, retuning the gesture of an offered hoof.
"What makes you think I haven’t seen her before? Remember these forest are my home" Zecora asked, slightly annoyed at the mare, but far more curious, since if she was going to be sincere, with the mare and with herself, she hadn’t seen a spirit not belonging to the forest before.
"Each culture carries their spirits, each land holds her own. The hoofrican ghosts in your house are proof of that, they come from beyond the sea. What if... what if they just caught a ride here and stayed where they felt more comfortable, where they are believed?" the mare said, her walk more secure, her tail swishing with her cadence, while they entered deeper in the woods. But while her pace had been sure at the begining, Zecora could see her begin to shiver the farther they went into her forest.
She’s afraid of the forest, just like any other pony would be, Zecora thought, seeing the mare jump at a sudden sound coming from the depths of the foliage. But, stubbornly, she didn’t stop, she kept walking, ignoring her fear, or maybe fighting against it. What else would they want, but not to be forgotten? Zecora wondered, remembering the mare’s words...
A soft green glow coming from the trees ahead broke her out of her thoughts, and she saw Dust placing the piece of bread on a fallen tree, before taking a couple of steps behind, watching all the while at the point glowing in the darkness of the Everfree.
Slowly, maybe slowly because of the movement of the spirit, or maybe because her senses were in overdrive, she could see some...thing approach. It, the blurry image, resolved into a beautiful, white doe, slender and lithe, using a transparent white dress, who watched them with her big, watery, black eyes. Reflected in them, Zecora felt the need to... well, to both get closer to the doe and to run for her life, but did neither, for she was well prepared than that.
Who is she, Zecora wondered, seeing the slow, elegant steps the doe took to reach the place where the bread rested, and before getting closer to it, she saw Dust in the eyes, for a moment looking hungry and wild, before returning to the calm expression it had before and lowered her muzzle until it almost touched the bread and inhaled soundlessly.
A white mist began to rise from the bread and was absorbed by the doe, whose eyes turned content, almost motherly, and a small smile appeared in her muzzle. This went on for some minutes that seemed hours, standing in the cold, both living females too afraid of scaring off the spiritual one by moving too quickly or suddenly. Finally, all the white mist was gone, and the doe turned to watch them both, in turns, before nodding to Dust and going off.
And just then, Zecora could tell the doe was not at all a living being. The whole back of the spirit wasn’t there, instead, it looked as if she was a moving hollow tree, still beautiful, still glowing a soft green, but a tree none the less.
"Ceh... Taabay" the zebra mumbled while she saw the glow dissapearing into the trees, not to be seen again on that night, and turned to watch her companion, to see her sitting down, nibbling on the piece of bread she had offered to the ghost.
"Want some?" the mare offered her half of the bread, and seeing the zebra hadn’t moved, she blushed and returned her hoof to her side, bread and all "In my family, we have the belief that once the dead had eaten it, we can share, so it’s like eating on the same table as them again. As if they are living, again" she said, staring wistfully at the piece of bread she was holding, her bitemarks quite obvious.
"I would love to share, are you sure I can your feast partake?" Zecora asked, sitting at Dust’s side, and receiving the piece of bread. Dust just nodded and kept on eating.
Zecora watched the bread a little more before eating it. It was half a circle, and had two pieces of bread topping it, which looked like "Bones?" she asked aloud and Dust nodded again, without stopping her eating. Zecora shrugged it off and took a bite out of the bread. It tasted like nothing. She knew there was bread in her mouth, she knew she was mashing it with her molars, that it was being combined with her saliva, but there felt as if there was abolutely nothing there. It had no flavor. The ghost had taken the flavor out of the bread, leaving only it’s body behind.
They finished their meal, and Dust stood up, and just waited for Zecora to do the same. They walked back to the town, mostly like Zecora walked Dust back to the town before going to the forest again, to tend to her self- assigned duties, but Dust turned to her, to look into her eyes.
"Would you like chocolate and real dead’s bread?" she asked. But the zebra shook her head.
"Is it your obligation?" she asked, still feeling the tingle of the otherworld into her bones "to feed those ghost that come from your nation."
"No" Dust answered simply "just like it’s not your obligation to stop the spirits of the Everfree from coming into the town." her eyes softened and she looked back at the forest "I love them too. And that way, she won’t take any stallion from town."
"And will your foals do the same? Protect the spirits from the wild and untame?" Zecora asked one last time, and the blush returned to the mare’s cheeks once more. "Is there a stallion in the receiving end of your love?" the zebra asked, and seeing Dust fidget with the end of one of her braids, went for the killing blow "Perhaps one who shares with your blush the color of coat?" she ended and with that question, the stammering answer of Dust, and the pony escaping into the house, the night became a bit brighter than it had been, the spooks seemingly far away.
Going off into the forest again, Zecora turned once more, to look through the window, only to see Dust sitting in front of a table, eating a loaf of bread and chatting up with the photography of a mare, both of them obscured by the smoke of a incense stick. "May your gods be with you" she wished to the mare in a whisper before turning to her way, and walking directly to the wild, unknown to most ponies, heart of the Everfree forest.
Author's Note
- I don't ship Sunset Dust and Big McIntosh. But a mare can have a crush, I believe
- If you have any doubts on what the Ceh Taabay is supposed to be, do a quick google search on the X' Taabay.
I am still trying to improve my English (you can guess it's not my first language), so if you have any advice or comment, I'll be very grateful.
Thanks for reading and happy day of the dead!
