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Nightjar

It was late. The sun had only left a soft red afterglow and a quarter of the sky to the south the moon already hung in the sky, leading the calm blanket of dark to follow the sun in their everlasting chase.

Zecora consciously felt for the light, cooling breeze of the night. With closed eyes she flared her nostrils and twitched her ears to take in the vocal and hazy aura of the forest. She could hear the humming of the sheer life force that streamed through everything and nearly broke free of its bonds.

She smelled the earth and the rotting organics slowly becoming it. She took in the scent of the bark and leaves and the animals they had been in contact with.

With a deep sigh she shook off the severity of the day and slowly a calm smile got a hold of her lips. Opening her eyes again she resumed the walk to her abode and hummed the tune of a simple song.

Since that day she had a lighter heart. She had been shunned too extremes that should have been inconceivable. She had been hurt of course but the mere absurdity of the reaction caused her to hold her head high in her emotional mix of anger, pride and disgust. She never really paid attention to the other feelings that crawled in the back of her mind; fear and sadness are able to destroy one's soul without a chance of redemption. Only as this weight was taken from her shoulders, could she recognize the echoes of her soul.

And all that because a little filly couldn't listen.

Zecora chuckled at the memory. Thanks to Apple Bloom she now lived the way she always wanted to. She surely was not social but neither was she a total recluse. She liked the presence of other ponies and enjoyed the conversations with them. But only for a foreseeable amount of time. The rest of it she relished in the tranquillity and freedom of seclusion.

Suddenly her musings were disturbed by the swish and snap of brushes only a few yards behind her. She spun around to identify any danger that might have crept up on her. What she saw caused her to trade her aggressive scowl for a look of astonishment. Before her sat a child. A white filly with long and once wavy black mane and tail. Her wide open eyes stared into the zebra's cyan ones like they tried to fill them with their red. The filly's eyes didn't seem solid but more like oily liquid suffused with plasma; ever-changing they drew their beholder to lose oneself in them.

The stun was ripped off of Zecora when words were spoken in a shaking and raspy voice. They stated fatigue and disorientation. Now she saw the rings under the still wide open eyes and the oily and unkempt appearance of hair and hide. And despite the filly's tail being slung around them she could make out the sore hooves and scratched legs.

Zecora voiced her consternation but soon regained her composure and stepped towards the filly. She got down on her belly and offered care for the wounds and a place to stay for the night.

The filly at first just stared at Zecora but eventually complied and climbed onto the zebra's ridge. Slowly the latter rose onto her hooves again and resumed her walk towards her hud.

Several questions lingered on Zecora's tongue but she bit them back for the foal was way to tired and the questions didn't concern any pressing matters.

Before long they arrived at their destination and once inside the cot Zecora flicked her hoof over a certain stone near the entrance and the dome light flickered to life. She walked to her bed and let the filly slide onto it and began the closer examination of the child's injuries.

All in all she found the filly to be healthy except for the first signs of dehydration and several scrapes. After some preparations Zecora approached the child with a cup of water and the announcement that the bathtub was ready.

As Zecora carefully helped the filly to clean herself she decided that she needed to ask at least one of her questions regarding the name of her patient.

Her query was met by the somehow trademark silence. Though it lasted longer than the other times and Zecora was just about to say something else when the filly spoke.

It was whispered at first and the filly looked off into the distance. Then, with her gaze towards her host she spoke out loud.

Her name was Gloom.

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