Chapters Outland
by
Chapter two: Courting Trouble
Edited by Sharp Logic, Microshazm and Mythee
As usual after his swim, Shad masked his scent with plant rubbings, and then gathered dried wood for the fire and flowers for tomorrow’s breakfast. He was having a perfectly ordinary day, doing what he normally did. He climbed the ridge and surveyed the lake in the distance.
He froze mid-step. Something felt wrong! The only sound was the breeze through the leaves. It was...
A quiet!
On alert, he closed his eyes, devoting his full attention to his sense of smell. His flaring nostrils where the only part of him that showed any evidence of life.
There!
It took him a moment to place the scent. It was one he associated to the swamps, an acrid smell that had no place here atop the ridge. There was also another scent on the wind, faint, but different from the first.
Altering his focus to his ears, he noticed a gap in the hubbub of the forest to his left and slightly behind him. His heart beat faster as he grew more certain by the moment that he was being watched and probably hunted.
Knowing better than to look in the direction of the quiet, Shad paced slowly towards a thick copse of trees along the path that led down from the ridge. His ears swiveled to the rear. He had barely taken four steps when a twig snapped.
Already primed for trouble, Shad dove left to the ground and towards the copse of trees. He heard more than felt an impact on his right flank as he slid in the dust several ponylengths. Propelled by the impact, he came to a stop at the top of an inclined path that led down to the water's edge.
Rising to all fours, Shad galloped down the dangerously steep trail. He didn’t stop to look back, nor did he when a furious below issued forth behind him. Turning a bend in the path, he threw himself through a low gap in the underbrush and rolled in almost perfect silence to his hooves, where he stood stock still, as if one of the critter statues of the forest. His heart pounded in dread.
Shad knew to be patient when a predator was stalking. He waited thus hidden for close to a half hour, and was just about ready to leave when he heard something he hadn’t in a very long time. His ears turned towards its source. It had almost sounded like... Shad’s heart skipped a beat and he turned his head back up towards the ridge. Cautiously, he took a few steps, wary of every slight sound and scent.
Back on the path, he still hadn’t heard the voice again. The breeze brought back the swamp smell, as well as that other scent. Like the sound that came before it, it stirred something deep within him.
Not trusting his memory, he forced his breathing to settle down, pulling a long draught of air in through his muzzle. There it was again, that faint smell, almost lost under the rich mix of odors the wind brought to his flaring nostrils. The forest hid many beasts, each with its own distinctive smell. This scent was very different, but still, something about it stirred a longing in within him.
That’s when he heard the second shout. A shout like he had only heard Momma make. Everything she had taught him told him to run, but he could not bring himself to do it. He had to know what critter had made those shouts. Resolutely, he gazed up the slope and silently made his way upward.
The clearing in the forest was roughly circular, with a diameter of some ten pony-lengths. Grasses and flowers grew barely knee high, fading into shrubs at its border. Zecora examined its periphery closely, then nodded to herself.
“This lonely glade is the perfect size. Now to lure inside my prize!”
She took a special jar from her saddlebags, placing it in the middle of the clearing, and then pulled the cover off. Immediately a foul pang rose from the small container.
“A stench that would turn stomachs most hardy, calls the lady basilisk to the party!” she intoned with a wry smile. Saying an invocation over the pot wasn't really necessary, but she did enjoy the irony of using a predator’s nature against it. The basilisk that pursued this enticing perfume would find something other than a potential mate awaiting!
From her saddlebags she took out her mirror and the small hoof sized ball. Basilisks were hard to kill, but equally slow to recover from a massive blow, a fact that she was counting on, as her objective required catching one alive.
“Don’t be shy, my big green cow. It’s your turn to be milked now!” She snickered. She had said the words on previous successful hunts. The phrase had become a good luck charm of sorts, and she needed both luck and skill to pull this off!
Zecora hid in a thicket, and waited with the patience of the hunter. Carefully extracting a daffodil sandwich from her saddlebags, she munched silently while she waited.
She was still brushing bread crumbs from her hooves when sounds in the bush betrayed the approach of a large animal.
Zecora’s ears pricked up in concern. That the creature would approach so noisily meant it was probably agitated, and thus far more likely to be dangerous than one bearing merely amorous intents. Either the lure was faulty, or something else had upset the creature. Whatever the case, at least it was arriving from the opposite side of the clearing. She turned her back to it and raised her mirror, using it to quickly scan the forest.
A moment later there was a crash and a large female basilisk emerged from the undergrowth. It flicked it’s tongue, tasting the air left and right, obviously expectant. Nevertheless, it advanced on the jar in the middle of clearing and stopped in confusion, looking for the male basilisk whose enticing aroma permeated the air above it.
Zecora backed out of the thicket. She needed to throw the ball at just the right spot to stun the creature, so she could milk its poison glands safely while it lay unconscious. The best strike would be to either side of its head where small holes denoted the openings of its ear canals.
She cantered carefully to the side, keeping the basilisk in view in her mirror. The trick was to wait until the beast looked away to strike, usually not so difficult when it was distracted by the search for a mate. However this creature seemed not to have any illusions that there were love prospects present, and focused her attention entirely on the zebra mare moving quickly around the edge of the clearing.
Normally, Zecora had the advantage of speed with such a huge monster. This one, however, was more canny than most and seemed content to simply rotate in place, keeping its face towards her while periodically lunging a step or two forward in order to strike at her with its tail.
Zecora danced out of the way, easily avoiding strike after strike despite the limited field of view afforded by the mirror. She stopped and abruptly reversed directions. The beast was confused a moment, but quickly responded and turned its head back towards her.
Several minutes later, she still hadn’t had a clear shot at the beast. She had to admit she was getting winded, and she was wondering if it would be wiser for her to retreat into the forest. That was when the creature again showed a canniness uncommon for its kind. It moved its head to one side of Zecora while striking with its tail on the other. The pincer movement surprised her, and the beast’s tail struck the mirror from her hoof.
Zecora had always prided herself on being able to keep a cool head. It took all of her willpower to not turn around. Instead, she tried to keep the monster in her peripheral vision while she plotted the best course into the bush to retrieve her mirror. That was when she saw a tiny reddish-brown muzzle topped with large hazel eyes, peeking through the leaves at the clearing’s edge. For the barest fraction of a second she froze.
The momentary hesitation was all the basilisk needed. Zecora felt a crushing impact on the side of her head, and saw her saddlebags spinning off into the bush. Her next impression was of wild grasses on her face, and then everything went dark.
Shad slipped through the bushes and thickets, hearing the sounds of a serious scuffle. Peeking under a branch he finally saw the sources of all the noise. It was a long, low monster, with a greenish hairless skin and legs with huge claws splayed out to its sides. He knew immediately to avert his eyes from looking towards its head. It was a basilisk, and fighting it was a pony!
The pony was big, and striped black and white. It wore shiny rings on its neck and its left foreleg, and it wasn't looking at the creature! It stood on its hind legs with its back turned to the monster and kept its eyes on a large, flat, oval object clasped in one hoof, while holding a small ball in the other. The pony jumped out of the way whenever the monster lunged.
For several long heartbeats, he stood frozen, unsure what to do. Then, the monster whipped it’s tail to the left while leaping to the pony’s right. The tip of its tail neatly hit the oval object and sent it flying off into the bushes. The pony did not dare look at the monster’s face. It probably knew that the monster could turn critters to stone if they looked it in the eye.
The pony turned in his direction. He saw its eyes grow wide. Just then, the monster lunged and its tail hit the pony on its head, sending it crashing to the ground. The ball the pony had been holding dropped from its hoof and rolled to a stop inches away from his own.
Shad trembled. His heart beat furiously as the monster advanced on the prone form of the pony.
No! No, no, no, NO!
There was nothing at hoof he could use, no stone or even a broken tree limb. He saw the ball the pony had dropped. He didn’t think, he just picked it up and screamed in rage. The monster froze mid step. It answered his shout with a roar of its own. Knowing he might have only a moment before it closed its mouth and he was turned to stone, he threw the ball as hard as he could in the direction of the monster’s head, while diving backwards into the thicket.
There was a flash, and then a muffled thud that he felt at much as heard.
A moment later, the monster screeched so loud that it hurt his ears, and through his hooves as much as his ears, he felt the monster crash through the bush as it thundered away.
Shad picked himself up carefully, and warily approached the prone pony. A cold sweat washed over him and left him shivering as he crept closer.
Please be alive! he thought.
There was no blood. The tightness in his barrel relaxed a bit, and he was able to draw in a shuddering breath.
Up close, the pony seemed a bit smaller than he remembered Momma to be. Ever alert, he turned an ear towards the sound of the retreating monster. It wasn’t decreasing anymore. He turned both ears in its direction. The noise of its passage seemed to be getting louder again! The monster was coming back!
Shad knew he had only seconds to act. The pony was much bigger than he was, but he was strong, Momma had always said so. He wedged his head beneath its withers and pushed himself under. With a heave he rose shakily onto all fours, the pony’s weight settling onto his back, though its legs and head trailed in the grass.
Momma had taught him what to do when he couldn’t gallop away and was hunted by something bigger than he was. Shad knew where to go, and was grateful that it wasn’t too far. After scary minute, he pulled the pony into a low thicket between two large plants, making sure neither he nor the pony touched their wide thick leaves. Just beyond the plants, he halted and tried to catch his breath.
The monster came clomping back through the forest, not even bothering to mask its impending arrival. No doubt it was following their scent, as he had hoped it would.
Sensing their presence nearby, the monster grew more cautious and slowed its advance.
The monster has to stay mad! he thought. Taking a deep breath, Shad let forth another loud shout with all the defiance he had in him.
The monster answered with its own cry of rage. Emboldened by hearing only a colt’s voice, it rushed towards them.
Shad stood his ground, legs shaking. Just as the tree branches above him trembled, shedding leaves on him and the pony, there was a flurry of whistling sounds and loud snaps. The monster bellowed again, this time in pain and frustration.
It's caught!
Shad frantically scuttled out from the underbrush with the pony still draped over his back. He dared not look back lest the monster’s gaze turn him to stone. Either the snakeplants had ensnared the monster good, or he and the pony would soon be dead. He galloped for all he was worth, putting as much distance between them and the monster as possible before it broke free of the snakeplants.
Sensations and Perceptions
Outland
by
Chapter three: Sensations and Perceptions
Edited by Sharp Logic, Microshazm and Mythee
Zecora awoke with a massive headache. Everything felt hazy. She fought through the pain and cobwebs in her mind until she finally felt lucidity, and then memory, return. She gasped.
The basilisk!
She jumped onto all fours, which made her head ring like a bell. Her legs trembled as nausea threatened to make her lose her meager lunch. Biting back down on it, she opened her eyes.
Nothing! I’m in the dark!
Zecora wondered if perhaps the basilisk had dragged her into its den rather than eating her in the clearing. That was unusual behaviour for such a beast. Then she remembered another image from the fight: a foal’s visage, peeking from the edge of the clearing.
A sudden feeling of dread shook her. Her saddlebags! She needed light. Tentatively, she pawed the ground around her with a hoof, hoping beyond expectation, until the memory of her bags flying off into the bushes came back to her unbidden.
Despair grazed the edges of her conscience, as well as a feeling of shame such as she hadn’t felt since she was a filly.
“Zecora girl your plight is dire, and you’ve got neither charms nor fire!” she scolded herself.
A foal’s voice whispered from the dark. “Hi, pony."
Zecora froze in utter surprise. The impression of a small hoof touched her lips.
“No talk. We hide from the monster.” The voice was that of a colt barely of school age. It also might explain her survival of the basilisk’s attack. Surely the colt’s parents’ had saved them. But if that were indeed the case, where were they? She had to ask.
She whispered in turn into the dark. “Little one, tell me please, where are all the big ponies?”
There was a pause, as if the colt was unsure of what to say. She felt a small hoof over her ear.
“No other pony. Me alone. Momma gone long time ago,” whispered the colt.
It took a moment for her to work out the implications.
Zecora! she exclaimed to herself in wonder. The being that saved your soul, is no more than a tiny foal!
Shad looked up at the pony. For some reason it wasn’t looking at him when it spoke, even though its eyes were half open. He shook his head and focused on the important things that needed to be done now .
There was a small pile of leaves on the ground next to the pony. He had collected them along the way into this relatively secure thicket. He wadded a bunch of the leaves into a ball and crushed it between his hooves, then rubbed the damp mess on the pony’s legs and flanks. Its nose wrinkled at the smell.
“You wish to hide our scent. Colt...” The pony stopped speaking when he again touched its lips.
It seemed to have gotten the message and didn’t speak again as he tried to finish coating it with the leaf juice. At one point he tapped it on the withers, and it understood enough to lie down so he could rub its head and back. The pony had a huge bump where the monster’s tail had struck it. Despite his best effort at being gentle, the pony tensed and took several breaths through its teeth as he coated the area in leaf juice.
He ended by doing the pony’s face. Its eyes didn’t track his movements. He waved his hoof right in front of one eye. It didn’t even blink. The pony can’t see! he thought. Shad knew that they needed to move soon, but it didn’t look like the pony would be able to follow him by sight.
Then he remembered another of Momma’s rules, this one on moving together in the dark.
He put his mouth next to the pony’s ear and whispered: “Hold onto my tail, and follow.”
The pony nodded. Relieved, Shad grabbed his own tail in a hoof and touched it to the pony’s mouth. It bit down securely on the hairs of his tail and carefully stood up. With a last glance in its direction, he carefully moved forward out of the thicket, the striped pony in tow.
Zecora followed the tug of the colt’s tail, treading carefully, but trusting that he knew what he was doing.
This young pony is truly kind, leading me as if I’m... blind! The word resonated in her head, competing with the headache she'd had since waking up. On her barrel and flanks she felt the brush of leaves and blades of tall grass, as if she was walking in a forest, not a cave. She took a deep whiff through her nostrils and discovered that she couldn’t smell anything either.
The shock of the discovery almost made her lose her grip.
She fought not to cry out loud as her eyes welled up with tears and her stomach cramped. It took all of her willpower to focus on the act of following, and not the myriad of aches, pains, and feelings of numbness that pervaded her sensorium, nor the icy clutch of fear and dread on her heart.
For quite a while they made their way slowly onwards as she concentrated on following his tugs. The trek gave the zebra mare much time to attempt to force order into her thoughts. Having several years of training in the medicinal arts of Zebrabwe, Zecora was well aware of what the confluence of her symptoms suggested: a moderate to severe concussion. She knew that her life might be hanging by a slim thread, and that the only assistance she could expect in this remote part of the Everfree was a small foal leading her through these most dangerous woods.
Her dire thoughts were interrupted by the colt halting abruptly and placing a hoof on her muzzle. He stroked it downwards, and repeated the motion twice more. Zecora could take a hint. She silently folded her legs, and felt the foal press up against her, still as a statue.
They lay that way for several long minutes.
Thus concussed you must take care, to remain conscious, zebra mare! She repeated this mantra to herself over and over again, willing herself to stay awake. Finally, after what seemed an interminable pause, the colt stroked her muzzle thrice again, this time with an upwards movement.
She rose. Nausea again washed over her, making her knees tremble. She had just bit down on the colt’s tail again when in the distance she heard the sound of a whippoorwill. As if called by the bird’s song, her nose was suddenly assaulted by the acrid smell of manticore's bane leaf! Mixed within it was another plant oil she couldn’t identify, and beneath it all lay the scent of a large body of water nearby.
She stumbled in surprise, but righted herself immediately. Her queasiness momentarily forgotten, the corners of her mouth rose over clenched teeth as tears ran down the sides of her muzzle. Her sense of smell had returned!
Whippoorwill, Loon.
Shad had led the pony almost all the way back home. He stopped and listened carefully before leading it to the entrance of the cave. He gestured for it to wait while he took out the thorn bush, then cautiously led the pony inside. In the main chamber he whispered to it. “You sit now. I come back.” The pony dutifully complied.
He went back out through the passage and secured the thorn bush back into place. He then went back in and lit the guard fire near the entrance.
The pony hadn’t moved. But its ears followed him as he went about the cave completing his daily routine. His nightly tasks over, he sat down in front of the pony, feeling suddenly embarrassed that he didn’t know what to say. Finally, something came to mind.
“Hello, pony,” he whispered.
The pony smiled and whispered in response. “Hello, little pony who led me true. Zecora’s my name, what should I call you?”
“Shad,” he said. Something about the pony’s voice reminded him of Momma. “Are you a momma pony?” he asked.
The pony’s smile faltered, and then came back even wider. “I have no foal of my own, though I am a mare fully grown.”
Shad was confused. This pony had a strange way of talking that was very different from the way Momma talked. But then, he was right, the pony - she - was a mare, just like Momma.
“Brave little Shad, where is your momma, or could you tell me where’s your poppa?” asked the pony.
“Momma gone a long, long time.” He hesitated before asking. “What’s a poppa?”
The pony’s smile went away. Her eyes got wet again. Then the smile came back, although her eyes still seemed sad.
“For the next three hours we must talk young Shad, for if I sleep it could be bad.”
He nodded solemnly. Whenever Momma asked him to do something it was very important, so he always obeyed as best he could. And he wasn’t sleepy anyway. At least, not much. He wondered what he should talk to the pony about. Looking at the drawings on the walls of the cave, a sudden inspiration hit.
“Zecora?” he asked, “Tell Shad a story, please?”
The mare smiled even wider, which made Shad feel very warm inside. She patted the floor next to her. He felt shy all of a sudden, but Momma did that too when she wanted him to lay besides her. He hesitated only a moment then lay down as she had requested. She placed a forehoof closer to him and he noticed it was trembling. He did what Momma did when he was scared and trembled: he placed his own little hoof over hers.
“Once... once upon a time,” she began in a hesitant voice, “in a land far, far south of here, a zebra stallion named Chaminuka healed and performed many great deeds. Neither ponies nor even ferocious beasts did he fear, and everywhere he went he collected wild plants and seeds.”
When she paused Shad looked up at her. “More story, please?”
Zecora nodded. She continued, her voice becoming stronger as she fell into the familiar rhythms of the legend.
“The great bull Mhindudzapasi was his most loyal friend, following him around, lying down, rising and trotting forward at his command...”
For over three hours Zecora recited many ngano of her tribe to the colt, the words of the epics, myths, and legends coming to her in the voices of her grandparents, aunts and uncles and elder cousins, told around a fire in the hazy lands of her youth. She even sang a few nziyo , although these she did not translate into Equestrian.
Throughout her recital, the colt let her know he was awake by periodically stroking her foreleg. He seemed to have an unusual number of non-visual clues, making him very quiet compared to pony or zebra colts his age. He even laughed very softly when she told the story of ‘How the chameleon became slow’.
Finally, her headache had receded, and she felt clear-headed enough to risk going back to sleep. She yawned and noticed that the colt no longer stroked her leg. She heard his soft, slow breathing. He had finally drifted asleep.
How could such a small one live alone, especially in such a fearsome zone?
She put her muzzle down next to the colt’s hoof, and felt her spirit stretch forth into the dreamlands. All through her dreams that night, out of the corner of her eye, she spied a tiny shadow following close.
Outland
by
Chapter four: Of Hearts and Absence
Edited by Sharp Logic, Microshazm and Mythee
Zecora woke up the next morning to the colt’s whispered entreaties.
“G’morning, Zecora. Shad go get some breakfast now.”
She groaned as she lifted her muzzle from the floor. Her head was a whole pony orchestra of pain.
“Shad, don’t...” she started to say, and then heard the rustling of the thornbush at the cave’s entrance. She contemplated calling out to him for only a moment before the details of her circumstances returned fully to her awareness. Her better sense prevailed and she held her tongue.
Reaching up with a hoof she felt a huge lump on the side of her head, and realized that she was unlikely to be going anywhere in the next few days.
Alone and blind in the cave, she was in a very unfamiliar and uncomfortable state of enforced idleness. With nothing to do, her active mind kept circling back to her situation.
Girl, if your vision remains black, from this trip you might not come back! Her heart raced at the thought, and then she felt the heat of embarrassment.
Do not succumb to weakness and self-pity, there’s a young one here in jeopardy! she scolded herself.
As if thinking about the foal called him forth, there was a scratching near the entrance and the muted sound of Shad’s hoofsteps entering the cave proper. She heard him step carefully over to where she lay, then the sound of a wooden bowl being placed on stone. She smelled both fresh greens and water directly in front of her muzzle.
“Breakfast,” said the colt in his very quiet voice. Despite her current blindness Zecora could hear the pleasure in Shad’s voice. He was proud of providing for her.
“Thank you, my little Shad,” she said, adopting the same mild tone. “You are truly quite the lad!” Her nose led her lips to the water. She drank sparingly, not wanting to risk the return of nausea. She then ate some of the greens, more to sooth her tumultuous stomach than to sate her appetite.
Questions came to mind as she ate. Pausing between mouthfuls, she began to gently question the foal.
“How long have you lived here, little pony? How long is it since you’ve seen your mommy?”
“Shad always live here. Momma said Shad was born here. When Momma left was many moons ago. More moons than Shad can count. More than eight moons,” he concluded sadly.
“And since that time you have lived all alone, with no grown-ups in your home?”
There was no response that she could hear.
“Shad, your answers you must tell me, for since the fight I hear but cannot see.” She flicked an ear in emphasis.
“Shad has been alone since Momma left.”
Her suspicions confirmed, Zecora was at a loss for words. She was a proud mare, and she knew it. Not least among the things she was most proud of were her independence and self reliance. This little one, you must confess, though just a foal has done no less! She felt an enormous amount of respect for the little pony that had somehow survived the dangers of the Everfree, abandoned or worse . In her heart she knew what had likely happened to Shad’s mother. The thought brought a lump to her throat.
“Why Zecora cry?” he asked. She felt his hoof wipe a tear from her muzzle.
“My head still hurts a lot, young hero. The basilisk dealt me quite a blow!” She rubbed the side of her head and tried to smile reassuringly.
You've grown a mountain on the side of your head. That's certainly better than being dead! The thought brought a rueful smile to her lips. If only you had your medical kit, you could reduce the swelling a bit.
This reminded her of her saddlebags.
“Where I was struck did you find, bags with objects of all kinds?” she asked.
It took the lad a moment, but eventually he replied. “Shad saw them fly away when the monster hit Zecora. Had to run. Couldn’t take them.” His tone turned miserable.
“Worry not my brave young colt, it was most wise of you to bolt. Both brave and strong was Shad to carry, Zecora so far to warmth and safety.”
Again there was no reply. And then she felt a tentative hoof on her own. It was trembling. On impulse she pulled him gently into a hug. The colt snuggled up to her willingly, but trembled like a leaf. He was obviously frightened of something. Then it struck her: Shad had been without love and comfort for who knew how long.
His need is desperate, and he doesn’t understand why. This colt is a flower too long hidden from the sky!
Not knowing what to say, she merely hugged him tighter. A flower. Unbidden, a memory surfaced of herself crying in her mother’s embrace. Words came to her, and Zecora began quietly to croon.
“Maua mazuri yapendeza
“...Maua mazuri yapendeza
Zecora doubted Shad had understood a single word of her song, but still, he was no longer trembling.
“Zecora?” he asked.
“Yes, child?”
“Are you going to go away, like Momma did?”
She thought about how to reply. She didn’t want to make a promise she might not be able to keep. Nevertheless, she knew she could not abandon the colt in the Everfree.
“Little Shad, this you must believe, without you I shall not leave.”
She heard him let out a breath. “Shad is glad.” He pulled away from her embrace. “Don’t like to be alone. Shad go get more food.” Without further pause she heard him leave the cave.
As she glanced involuntarily towards the sound she noticed that she could tell where the entrance was because it just seemed less dark in that direction. She waved a hoof before her face and noticed the light from the entrance being occluded. Between her withers, a knot of tension she hadn't known was there relaxed, leaving her still weak, but feeling lighter, somehow.
With a hoof, Zecora touched her poll, muzzle and chest, expressing her thanks to the spirit of the Maker. Her sight was coming back! Reassured, she lay down her head and slept. She dreamt that she was a filly again, and of being abandoned and forgotten by everyzebra she knew.
Blue-jay, woodpecker, crickets.
Shad hissed in pain as he slipped into the water of his swimming hole. He didn’t even bother saying hello to the fish.
Zecora's leaf-green saddlebags sat next to the pond. He had already retrieved them and the things she had dropped in her fight with the monster, or at least, he hoped, most of them. There was a pot left in the middle of the clearing that had been tipped in the fight, but its awful smell had not encouraged him to touch it or even stay in its proximity any longer than necessary.
For the first time since the previous day’s events, he took a close look at his flank and saw the swollen red flesh under the monster’s claw marks. He rubbed the wounds until they bled again.
Getting out of the water, he carefully licked the cuts and the fur around them dry. That’s what Momma had taught him to do with scratches. He grimaced at the bad taste.
Silence.
Shad’s ears shot up and swiveled in every direction. Looking out through the trees, he saw something large and green moving in his direction from beyond the opposite side of the pond.
He quietly lowered himself back into the water, and swam into an area full of reeds, keeping only his nose, eyes and ears above the surface. Soon there was the sound of undergrowth being pushed aside. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his entire head underwater.
Shad trembled as he thought of the huge monster just above. It was the one from yesterday! He had seen its damaged head. It was wounded very badly, with the eye gone on the side he briefly glimpsed. Somehow, the ball that Shad had thrown had caused this. Now the monster was very angry, and had decided to hunt him down.
When he could no longer hold his breath he began slowly blowing out bubbles of air. He had played this game many times when visiting the pond with Momma. They would hold contests, and he would try his best to stay down longer than she did. Together they would look at the fish and tadpoles, and inevitably he would have to thrust his muzzle out of the water before she did. She joked that she had bigger lungs than he did. Sometimes she'd stay down an extra long time, just to show him that she could.
Finally, his lungs were empty and he was becoming desperate for air. He poked his nostrils barely above the water and drew in a slow breath, only to submerge again without a sound.
Monster.
It was still up there. No doubt it had smelled out his presence. He recalled the damaged head. If their gazes had met Shad would have been turned to stone. A chill ran down his back, causing him to tremble. Again he took himself to the limit of his endurance, and risked another indrawn breath through his nose.
Monster.
Underwater again, Shad felt calmer. The monster made no move to enter the water. He resolved to show this monster that he could play this game longer than it could.
It only took two more breaths before his nose told him that the monster was gone. Still, he continued for two more breaths after that, and then slowly raised his ears out of the water, listening intently.
Blue-jay, woodpecker, crickets.
Shad rose out of the pond in slow increments, all senses on full alert. The saddlebags had been upset and some the contents scattered. He gathered what remained back into the bags, pushed himself under them and stood. The bags almost touched the ground.
Next he located where the monster had exited the area around the pond. He followed the signs of its passage off of the rock and back up the ridge into the forest. After a few minutes his eyes narrowed to slits and his ears hit the back of his head. The monster was following his trail home!
Shad growled. Then with the silent focus of the hunter, hurried after the monster.
Zecora awoke from her nap and stretched. She still had a headache. At least the mountain on the side of her head had shrunk down in size to something no bigger than a good sized hill. Rubbing it carefully with the frog of her hoof, she found no obvious rents or tears in the skin. This was no small comfort when she was still effectively blind and unable to get access to her medical supplies or to go replenish them from the forest.
She waved a hoof in front of her face. Her eyes seemed more sensitive to shades of light and darkness than before, but she wasn’t sure exactly by how much, or even if she was merely being optimistic.
It’s hard to be an optimist, when all you see are shadows in the mist! she thought, raising a sarcastic eyebrow.
Her stomach growled, reminding her of other obligations. Without being able to see the sky she only had a vague impression of the time. Still, she was reasonably sure it was at least an hour or two after midday. The colt said he was going out to find lunch, so she presumed he should have returned by now. Her ears flicked in mild distress.
Zecora decided to carefully explore the cave by touch and scent. It didn’t take her long to find what was obviously a stock of dried food, mostly grasses and some wild oats. She grazed guiltily from the stock, vowing to replace the amount consumed at least twice over once she recovered.
Another bit of exploring brought her to an alcove near the back of the cave. Both her ears and nose informed her that there was a water course nearby. Some careful hoofwork let her determine that a stream emerged from the wall, was exposed for two ponylengths and then sank back into the rock.
The smell in this area also made it clear this was where the cave’s occupant took care of his necessities . She was grateful for the discovery as her own needs were becoming pressing. Thus relieved, she carefully felt her way back to where she had slept, a natural bowl-shaped depression in the rock lined with some soft materials. She lay down in the nest, her tail flicking back and forth agitatedly.
Zecora had rarely felt so helpless. And she had to admit to herself that she was more than a little concerned for the foal. “My little pony, why do you tary? Your absence for so long is becoming scary!” she whispered into the suddenly oppressive silence.
Outland
by
Chapter five: Fire and Water
Edited by Mythee
Shad felt the sour feeling in his stomach grow. Despite all of his precautions and use of camouflaging scents, the monster was slowly tracing in reverse the exact path he took from the cave that morning. The beast would sometimes stop and wave its head close to the ground, tongue flicking over the brush and grasses. Moments later it would again plod directly down the path he’d taken coming out.
They were over half of the way back when he decided he needed to do something.
The monster will follow my trail all the way to the cave! He pictured the only home he’d ever known, and all the memories of Momma it held, destroyed by the monster.
And then he thought of the blind mare helpless within. Shad had lived alone for so long. He had experienced so many strong feelings in that time. Fear, despair, and loneliness he knew intimately, having spent so many days and nights with them as his only company. Many times, it was only the memory of Momma's words that kept him from galloping off into the forest to find her, or on other days, to force him to leave the cave when he lacked the courage or will to go out and gather food.
This time the feeling that burned in his barrel was very different. This time, his upper lip curled, baring his teeth. His eyes were wide, his ears lay flat against his head and his tail whipped back and forth. He tasted bile in his throat and hot fire filled his belly.
No. No. No! NO!
Shad shook like a leaf. For the first time in his short life, rage encompassed his entire being. The image of the monster filled his mind. His nostrils flared as as his breath came out in sharp chuffs. He pictured the monster as he saw it at the swimming pond, damaged and bleeding. He recalled its belows of pain after he threw Zecora’s ball at it.
I hurt you before, monster. I can hurt you again!
The words echoed in his head. He released a breath slowly. He stopped trembling.
"I can hurt you again!" he said aloud.
A feeling of steely calmness descended on him. His tail stopped flicking, but his lip remained curled. Momma had taught him well. “The forest is your friend,” she had said many times.
Shad smiled, and knew what needed to be done.
He hurried down a side path that was significantly faster back to the cave than the one being traced by the beast. He trotted as fast as he could without making much sound. In short order he arrived at the clump of thorn bushes that hid the entrance to his home. He shrugged out of the saddlebags, leaving them leaning against the rock wall next to the cave entrance, and immediately set back out the same way he had that morning. There was a certain place that would be perfect for his purpose, as long as he got there a bit before the monster did.
Less than a minute later, a section of the trail came into view. Its main feature was a large flat boulder sticking out of the ground right next to the path and at right angles to it. On the other side of the path from the stone, tightly packed clumps of bushes thrust long serrated leaves upwards.
There were no sign of the beast nor its passage.
Good! he thought. The monster should be here soon.
Aiming to be as quiet as possible, Shad slowed his breathing the way Momma had taught him, until even he couldn't hear its sound. Crouched low behind the large rock, he was effectively hidden from any critter that came down the path.
Less than minute later, he heard the monster's approach. He scrunched down, tail to the path, head peering backwards between his hind legs.
Closer!
The monster’s plodding steps slowed. Shad’s heart beat so loud he wondered how the monster could possibly be deaf to it.
Then the tip of a massive green snout moved slowly into view. Green scales and crooked teeth passed slowly by, until its entire head was revealed, and as Shad expected, where an eye should be, there was a deep gash crusted with blood.
Just a bit more!
The monster took two more steps and froze, its neck inches from Shad’s hind legs. The beast opened its mouth a crack. Its tongue slithered out and tested the air. Shad watched in disgusted horror as it whipped back and forth, less than a hoof’s width from his coat. The monster’s head twitched minutely in his direction and its tongue whipped back and just lightly touched his inflamed flank.
Now!
Shad bucked for all he was worth.
He felt his hind hooves connect and the body of the monster raise into the air. It tipped over onto its back amidst the stand of knife bushes. The beast roared in anguish and anger, its thrashing only driving the razor sharp plant leaves deeper into its flesh.
Shad observed in quiet triumph as the beast repeatedly vented its rage as its struggles diminished, until finally it stopped moving.
It’s Dead!
Oddly, he felt no joy at seeing the monster defeated. Exhaustion struck him like a wave. His haunches lowered to the ground and his head hung low as he fought to catch his breath. He forced himself back onto all fours and slowly turned around to plod down the path back home. There was a sound behind him. He turned his head just in time to see the monster’s tail crash into his flank and send him flying down the path.
Zecora's head reared back as the roar of a basilisk echoed into the cave. She jumped up onto her hooves, ignoring the waves of nausea the sudden movement caused. The basilisk's screams sounded as if it stood just outside the cave's entrance!
She shivered once and took a step towards the light. One more, and she began to trot forward, head low, hoping to make out any large obstacle that might lie in her path. She stumbled at the opening of the passage and then threaded her way out, leaving more than a few hairs from her coat on its jagged walls.
Zecora staggered when full sunlight struck her, feeling as if her pelt were being drenched in a stinging rain. Shading her eyes with a hoof, her vision, poor as it was, adjusted, revealing blurry shapes with hints of colour. Her ears focused on the basilisk's roars.
Dread and rising panic lent her strength. Heedless of her coat and the thornbushes, she made a beeline towards the sound. Scratched and bleeding, she pushed through onto a game trail just in time to see a small brown shape fly into the air and land with a grunt at her hooves.
A noise further up the trail caught her attention. She looked up to see a huge green and red lump lumbering in her direction. The basilisk! She hopped over Shad and placed herself between the huge chimera and the tiny pony, head low, teeth bared and ears flat. Her tail swished noisily to either side.
The beast hesitated, and then howled its rage at the equine pair.
"Come at me, lizard, if you dare, and taste the wrath of a Zebra mare!" she shouted through clenched teeth.
"Don't look at its eyes!" Shad called out behind her as she took a second step forwards.
"I know the perils of its kind –" Zecora's voice started, and then trailed off. Her ears straightened and her head lifted up. "– and this basilisk is about learn of the perils of mine!"
With a wry smile on her lips, she took another step closer to the monster. She laughed.
"It is irony most rich that you clouded my vision," spoke the mare. "And in doing so disabled your most potent weapon!"
The monster howled menacingly and moved up another step. Zecora rose to her hind legs. She calmly touched both forehooves to the topmost metal ring around her throat. She pulled her hooves outwards. The ring grew bigger as she increased the distance between her limbs grew wider. Lifting it the ring clear of her head, she spread her forelegs wide. The ring grew to almost a pony length in diameter.
Chuckling, Zecora advanced on the monster. Suddenly wary, it stopped moving. Confused at the Zebra’s bold behavior, it even took a step back.
“Be careful, Zecora. There’s knife bushes to the left of the monster!” said Shad behind her.
“Look away my little one, until I say the deed is done,” she called over her withers, and took another step.
The basilisk shut its mouth and raised it’s head to glare at her, trying to catch her gaze and turn her to stone. Of course all she could see was a large muzzle shaped mass. She couldn’t make out anything as small as a basilisk’s eye, and so was effectively immune to its deadly stare.
With a throwing motion, Zecora tossed the ring onto the lizard’s snout, and motioned her forehooves closer together. The ring shrank, clamping the creature’s mouth shut and muffling its panicked roars. The bloodied monster frantically scrabbled with its fore-claws to remove the ring, gouging further rents into the flesh of its snout. Having completely forgotten about the zebra, it even slipped partly back into knife bushes.
Zecora took another ring from her neck. Making it larger still, she advanced again on the basilisk.
The lizard ceased struggling as it noted her approach. By then, its primitive mind understood that it was outmatched. It turned tail, crashed through the knife bushes and exited the other side, leaving behind it a trail of red in the undergrowth and the smell of blood in the air.
With a shiver of relief, Zecora placed the ring back around her neck, and dropped down onto all fours. She trotted over to the little brownish blob that was the colt. Her mood of triumph gave way to a feeling of frustration, as her fuzzy vision prevented her from being able to visually discern on the foal’s condition.
“The battle's won, but what of Shad? Are you injured my young lad?” she asked.
“I hurt my leg when I fell down.” Holding his left foreleg close to his chest, he carefully rose onto his other three limbs.
Zecora folded her legs until she lay belly on the ground. “Climb up onto my back and ride. I’ll be your legs and you be my guide.”
She lay still as he carefully climbed on. As she rose, he whispered: “Thank you for saving me, Zecora. I couldn’t run away. The monster would have eaten me.”
She sighed. “It is I who give thanks to you, Shad most brave. I heard you fight the beast while I still lay in the cave.”
“It would have tried to eat you too,” said the colt. “I wasn’t going to let it.”
She smiled at the fierce determination in his young voice.
A few minutes later they reached his hidden home. As they approached she stopped and noticed a very familiar looking leaf-green shape on the ground to the right of the cave's entrance. She stopped and tentatively touched it with her hoof, confirming by texture that it could only be her lost saddlebags.
Shad whispered in her ear. “I found your bags and a lot of small pots and things. I put them all inside."
Zecora nuzzled the young colt. “You have no idea how glad, I am to have my saddlebags,” she said and then placed them on her back just in front of him. They entered the cave.
The first order of business was to examine Shad’s leg. He didn’t complain when she felt his broken leg with the frog of her hoof, not even when she had to pull it to set the bones correctly before binding it in a splint. Luckily, among the saddlebag items rescued by the little pony was much of her medical kit, which had the materials for splinting a broken limb.
When it was done, he hobbled on three legs, and built a fire near the cave’s entrance. Only after it was merrily crackling away did he come back to the nest and curl up between her forelegs. With a tiny sigh he put his head down went to sleep.
Zecora had known admiration in her life. Her heroes tended to be the great explorers of the world, those who left the safe and comfortable confines of hearth and home and struck out for the unknown. They had always seemed so brave to her, so noble, as she read their memoirs and dreamed of her own travels in lands full of mystery and new experiences. She had to admit that she had lived much of her dream, had seen some incredibly wondrous things and met some truly remarkable beings. But never had she witnessed such courage as shown by the foal sleeping next to her: a tiny colt who had fought a full grown basilisk. She lay her own head next to his, and willingly sought passage to the nightlands.
Shad walked through the forest. His ears swiveled frantically, but there was nothing to be heard except his own heartbeat. He was following a path bordered on each side by strange plants, many of which had leaves with little eyes that watched him hungrily as he shuffled forward. He shied away from them, making sure not to brush the plants even lightly.
It was very dark, as if it was night out, even though he didn't recall going out. He was always in the cave at night. The path was one he didn't recognize. He shook his head in frustration.
A rustling sound behind him and to his left caused him to freeze. He slowly turned his ears to focus on it, when another sound came from the right. Twigs snapped to his left again.
Monsters are hunting me!
Shad galloped off. On both sides of him, the little eyes in the bushes stared at him, so he dared not leave the path. His barrel heaved, his breath coming in loud gasps. He looked behind him and saw nothing.
Turning his gaze back to the path he saw a green wall blocking his path! He planted all four hooves in front of him, skidding to a halt against the wall.
There was this terrible smell that burned his nose.
Rotten things from the swamp.
Then the wall moved.
Shad's hooves slipped and clattered as he back-pedaled furiously. He felt suddenly slow and clumsy. He saw that the leaves on the bushes also bore gaping mouths full of sharp little teeth.
He turned back towards the path. The wall was gone, replaced by a familiar looking green monster. It had shiny rings around its neck and left foreleg. He tried to turn his gaze away from its face, but was drawn to a bit of brown fur near its teeth. From between its jaws protruded a single familiar chestnut pony leg.
Shad felt the shock of recognition and screamed out loud: "Momma!" The monster took a step towards him.
He struck out with every limb –
– and found himself on his belly in the cave. He felt Momma’s huge presence next to him and smelled her sweet scent. He was so warm in her embrace. “Momma!” he cried in relief. “Momma!”
The dark claimed him again.
"Momma! Momma!" The colt shuddered and shook as he slept.
Zecora knew there was something wrong. The small form next to her shivered, damp with sweat.
She licked the tip of Shad's muzzle. As she suspected, it was dry and burning hot. He had a serious fever, and even semi-blind, her nose led her right to the site of the infection: the colt's flank. From the smell, it must have been raked by the basilisk's claws. Like many large reptiles, the basilisk carried many different strains of highly virulent bacteria in its teeth and claws. A bad infection could down its prey for it in a matter of days. It’s putrid scent was probably how the beast had backtracked Shad’s trial from the cave.
She felt the small pony nestled in her forelegs cry and struggle in his sleep. Zecora rose gingerly, but quickly and went to her saddlebags.
Carefully extracted their contents by feel alone, she searched for a particular vial. It was nowhere to be found. Just in case she were mistaken, she took to opening every container she had and smelling or tasting its contents. Minutes later she was certain: the dried Ice-berry powder was missing.
What a medical dilemma, I have neither the right medicine nor sight, she thought in frustration. But if I don't reduce his fever, Shad may not survive the night!
She knew his only hope was for her to get the proper medicinal plants, but first, she had to get the lad's temperature down.
She lay again in the nest next to the little pony. She began to lick his coat, the only means to cool his fever at her immediate disposal.
If only I could bathe him in cool water, I ... Zecora had a sudden thought. The stream at the back of the cave!
She carefully held the trembling colt in one foreleg, and with an awkward three-legged shuffle made her way to where the stream passed through the back of the cave. It made almost no sound as it disappeared into the rock. The gloom made her very limited sense of sight almost useless.
Placing Shad onto the floor of the cave, Zecora gingerly stepped into the stream and shuddered at the intense cold of the water. She used a hind leg to explore the depth the flow, and was happy to discover that it was no more than a third of pony length deep. Nevertheless the water ran fast. She would have to be very careful not to let them be swept away into the mountain.
You know what you have to do, now the rest is up to you.
It was a mantra she often repeated to herself before a difficult or unpleasant task. Taking a deep breath, she picked Shad up and clutched him to her bosom. Slowly, she submerged until only their heads stuck out of the water.
The water truly was very cold. In hardly no time, she began to shiver intensely. She again measured his temperature by licking his nose. She thought he was feeling cooler, but she couldn’t be sure, so she decided to stay in the water.
Shad moaned in the dark and spoke through chattering teeth. “Though you are cold, you are in my embrace and I will not let you go I vow. Hang on to life, my little Shad. I could not bear to lose you now!”
A few minutes later, another verification of Shad’s temperature was encouraging, but he was still quite hot.
She held on to the colt until she started to feel weak from the cold. Afraid she might lose him to the current, or lose her hoofing and let them both be pulled into the underground stream, she lifted Shad out of the water and deposited him onto the cave floor.
She tried to lift herself out of the stream, but found her hind legs so weakened that she couldn’t gather the strength to push herself up. No doubt she was edging close to hypothermia. Her ears lay flat against the back of her head.
Admit that since you left Zebrabwe, this has not been your wisest play! Despite the chills, one corner of her mouth pulled upwards in silent self-deprecation.
She saw only one option. She wrapped both forelegs around a rocky protuberance near the edge of the stream and with a hindleg scraped the edge of the stream bed to find a rock, crevice, anything that would give her a hoof up.
Finally, when her forelegs had gone totally numb and she daren't let her attention drift from them lest they slip free, her hoof caught on a razor-thin ledge of stone. She pushed up with the last of her strength, and managed to lever herself high enough to lift her other hind leg out of the water and onto the stream bank.
Shivering so badly that she couldn’t rise to her hooves, she pushed herself closer to the foal and again tested his temperature. She sighed in relief. He was out of danger for a least a short while. It was several minutes before she was able to sufficiently master her limbs and stand. Still shaking, she carefully picked Shad up and brought him back to the sleeping nest.
Zecora looked towards the hazy light that showed where the entrance lay. Its reddish tinge was an obvious sign that the sun was was at best an hour from setting.
The only way to save the child, is to leave this cave and to search the wild.
For the second time that day, Zecora felt her way through the passageway, effectively blind and in the knowledge that it might be too late to save the colt.
Outland
by
Chapter six: Changing Perspectives
Edited by Sharp Logic, Microshazm and Mythee (Revised)
Shad didn’t like the taste in his mouth. He tried to turn his muzzle away but it wouldn’t move. He felt so heavy! Worse, he couldn’t managed to open his eyes. Something huge held his head in its powerful grip.
The monster!
His hooves scratched feebly at the soft ground below him as tried to growl. He heard a mewling sound, and realized it was his own throat making the noise.
“Hush now colt, be brave! You are safe within your cave.” The voice was gentle and the words drove away the cobwebs cluttering his mind. Scent provided something more, something he could trust, and from his memory it called forth a name and face.
Zecora.
He relaxed as he breathed in the warm essence of her presence.
Familiar. Friend. Safe.
He tried to raise his head, causing her to adjust her grip.
“Shad, my lad, stop your fuss!” she cooed. “To take your medicine you must.”
Huge and warm, her presence next to him felt so good! He leaned into the striped fur. Her barrel shook as she chuckled.
“To get it cost me fur and skin, so open wide and drink it in!”
It took an effort for him to crack open his mouth. Something wet and bitter trickled into it. He swallowed it quickly and tried not to retch at the taste it left on his tongue.
After a few deep breaths he finally managed to say some words. “Tastes bad!”
The chuckle became a laugh.
“Shiver Wort will slake the fire, help you heal and not expire.”
Finally Shad managed to blink open his eyes. He realized that he lay wrapped by one of Zecora’s forelegs. Her other forelimb held a leaf folded into a cup. She brought it to lips and he drank down the rest of its contents.
“That was awful,” he said with a burp, making her laugh again. A thought occurred to him. “Didn’t smell this awful medicine in your bag before. Where did Zecora find it? Can’t see.”
The mare put down the cup. “It was you who gave me the clue!” She wrapped another forelimb around him as well. “Shiver Wort is often found below the knife bush on the ground.”
He noticed a long red scratch on the right side of her face. “You’re hurt! Did you touch the knife bushes?”
Zecora sighed.
“Near the knife bushes I most cautiously went, staying low as I gathered wort plants by scent.” Her ears drooped slightly and she smiled sheepishly. “But upon my return like a foal I made haste. The cave passageway rocks took the price from my face!”
Stretching out his good foreleg, he stroked a spot on her chin. “Momma has a scar on her face there too...”
He slowly pulled his hoof back down, looking at his foreleg intently. The image from his dream came back to him of Momma’s leg sticking out of the monster’s mouth.
His throat constricted, and his breath came fast. He closed his eyes, but the image refused to go away. The monster swallowed, and the leg slid inside.
It didn’t happen! It was just a dream! he told himself, burying his face in Zecora’s side. Tears welled up from his eyes.
Don't cry! It wasn’t real! The words did nothing to stop his heartbreak, and he wept like he hadn’t since the day Momma didn't come back, the day when he had come home alone.
Strong limbs enfolded him. “My poor little Shad, what makes you so sad?” asked Zecora.
He didn’t want her to feel bad, but the emotions just seemed to come at him with such force, and the thoughts that came with them... they made him feel as if he would burst if he kept them inside.
“I... I saw Momma in a dream last night.” His voice caught in his throat. Zecora’s hoof stroked his back. It felt so good and brought back memories of Momma, but at the same time it made him feel as if there was a huge hole inside him. The shaking and the tears wouldn’t stop.
“A monster... a monster ate her!” His heart was tearing in two. For some reason it was becoming hard to breathe. When he tried to talk, all that came out were choking noises. It was several minutes before he could gather enough breath to say a few words.
“Momma’s been gone so long. She's not coming back... is she?”
He looked up into Zecora's face and saw more sadness there than he had ever seen in Momma's face. He waited long moments while his heart pounded.
She shook her head.
Something broke inside of him and everything went away, except for the burning emptiness in his heart.
Zecora held the foal tightly, rocking him in her embrace.
You could have lied , she told herself in her innermost voice, that which predated her training in the healing arts and her adoption of the rhyming lilt of the shaman. You could have told him his mother might come back!
Tears dropped from her muzzle and onto Shad’s. As a filly she had vowed to always tell the truth, no matter the circumstances. The perfidy of those who used honeyed words to excuse the actions of powerful zebras, their friends or themselves was one of the reasons she had left her village. The thought brought back with it bitter memories.
One of the village elders came to her parents' hut. It was an old stallion who had insisted she call him mjomba Sefu, even though he was not a relative. She didn't like him or the way he smiled at her. He wasn't smiling today.
"Call your mother and sister, child!" commanded the old zebra from the doorway. Zecora nodded and galloped off, wondering why he had not bothered to find them himself. The village was hardly big enough to make such a task difficult. It took her less than a minute to locate both her mother and sister, who with several of the neighboring mares were grinding maize into mealie-meal. Her mother looked up as she approached.
"Mama, mjomba Sefu says you and Zuri must come to the hut," said Zecora.
A troubled look crossed her mother's face as she put down her grinding stick. She motioned her younger sister to follow and the three mares trotted back home.
"What does mjomba Sefu want?" prodded Zuri as she bounced around them with the energy of the very young.
"I don't know, dada kidogo," replied Zecora. A thought struck her. "Mama, do you think it's about Baba's trip to the big market at Farasi Ziwa?"
Her mother tried to hide her worry behind a thin-lipped smile. "Patience, children! We'll find out soon enough."
In truth, they were already at the hut's door. She followed her mother and sister inside.
"Shikamoo," said her mother warily, "what brings you to our home?" Zecora knew that her mother didn't much like mjomba Sefu, and that she hid the feeling behind a very polite formality.
The old zebra's frown did not lessen. He glanced quickly at Zecora and her sister, then shifted back to her mother.
"Mpwa, I have news from the elders regarding your husband," he said.
Zecora noticed her mother tense up, and began to feel uneasy herself.
"And what is this news, Shikamoo?" her mother retorted.
Mjomba Sefu grinned, although the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. "Your husband has failed to arrive at the market with the village's surplus maize. I'm sure he's just been delayed and will turn up soon." His grin widened. "With the maize, of course. Much of it was from my own clan's store, you know."
Mother didn't answer. She nodded once, and stood aside from the doorway. The old stallion resumed his frown and left the hut.
"Mama!" asked Zuri, her eyes wide, "is Baba safe?"
Mama smiled as she sat down on her haunches and hugged us both. "Yes, I'm sure of it! Don't let that old worrywart scare you for nothing. I'm sure Baba will be back tomorrow, as he said he would." She rose to all fours. "Now, let's get back to work. The maize will not grind itself!"
Zecora followed after her, only partly reassured.
From the looks the other mares gave them it was clear that something serious was going on, but mother was unusually focused that day, so even though she heard the whispers, Zecora ignored them. That night at supper their mother was very quiet and sent them to bed early.
The next morning they all rose as usual. Their mother saw them off to school. Just outside the hut, mjomba Sefu waited looking grimmer than ever.
"Good morning, Shikamoo," said the mare as her foals looked on in silence.
"Your husband and my maize are still missing," he said.
"He will be back, with a profit for the village," she retorted cooly.
His eyes narrowed. "It would be a burden for this family to have to pay me back for my loss," he said, then turned and trotted off.
Zecora’s mother ignored the questions in her daughters’ eyes at this strange exchange and waved them on to school.
After morning classes Zuri and Zecora were having lunch when Aisha, who really was mjomba Sefu's niece, approached their bench.
"My mother says your family owes our family for the maize your father stole!" said Aisha, her muzzle held high.
Zuri rose and Zecora could see the fury in her little sister’s eyes. She placed a hoof on her withers to keep her from doing something they would regret. Aisha's family were influential in the village, and it did not pay to openly engage in conflict with them.
"Our father has never stolen anything," Zecora said calmly, "and the whole village knows it. That' s why they trusted him to sell their maize, and not some other zebra."
Aisha remained undeterred. "He never showed up at the market yesterday. Mother says he must have sold our maize in another village and then went off with all the money!"
It took both forehooves to hold onto Zuri. "You take that back!" she shouted, angrier than Zecora had ever seen her be.
Aisha just turned on her hooves and sauntered off to another bench where her siblings and cousins congregated, whispering and shooting dirty looks in their direction. Most of the other foals tried their best to ignore what was happening, which left the sisters feeling very isolated in the schoolyard.
Things only got worse as the day wore on. Everywhere they went cold eyes followed after them. What made Zecora even more angry were those who simply turned their gaze away. School was almost over when Hilali, one of the young stallions currently doing service to the village council, came to fetch them. There was a look of triumph on Aisha’s face as they followed Hilali out.
For her part, Zecora began to feel very anxious. She didn’t care what Aisha said or did. What came out of that awful filly’s mouth was like water off the back of a duck. What did bother her was the attitude of the stallion. He treated her and her sister in an almost deferential fashion, and that scared her.
He led them to their hut. Inside, mjomba Sefu and two other town elders waited with their mother, her face very pale and fragile, and a strange zebra mare in a shaman’s cloak that she had never met before. With a trembling hoof her mother waved the girls to come sit with her on the earthen floor of the hut.
“Now that everyzebra is here we can begin,” said the chief elder, a wizened old stallion named Abasi. He took a deep breath. “The elders of Farasi Ziwa have sent us word that a zebra has been taken by a pride of lions not far from their village.”
The stranger stepped forward. “There wasn’t much left to identify the victim except some rings,” – she took some blood stained gold circlets from the bag – “and we have verified they bear your village’s markings.”
Zecora turned her face towards her mother’s, and for the first time in her life witnessed true desolation. A hollow numbness spread through her entire being as her little sister whimpered.
Mjomba Sefu broke the silence. “What about the maize? There should have been maize. Lions care nothing for maize!” he concluded emphatically.
The strange zebra shrugged and looked apologetic. “At the site we found much blood and the golden rings.” She looked sadly at us. “Lions often... consume their victim a distance away from where they did the killing. And after they are sated from their gruesome fest, the jackals eat most of what the lions did not, scattering the rest. But the zebras who discovered the remains, said naught about finding maize or any other grains.”
She looked at mother with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry that these are all we can provide for your remembrances.” She placed the rings back in the bag and lay it reverently before Mama. “For your tragic loss, please accept our village’s condolences.”
It was only then that Zecora noticed that her mother had been quietly weeping all this time. Looking down she was surprised to see the tracks of tears down the fur of her own chest.
An angry exclamation from Mjomba Sefu tore her gaze from her coat. “He must have sold the maize and hidden the bits he was paid! There is no other explanation possible!”
Jaws in the hut dropped as everyzebra looked at the elder in horror. Zecora felt a growl grow in her throat, but was silenced as her mother rose and pulled the sisters behind her.
“Get out!” she said, her eyes shooting daggers at mjomba Sefu. “You will not disparage his memory in this house! Get out!” she moved as if to physically push the elder away, something Zecora could never have imagined her very correct and polite mother doing.
Mjomba Sefu was about to reply when the other elders stepped between him and the grieving mare.
“Our apologies, mpwa. We shall leave now. Please also accept our regrets at your husband’s passing.” They turned and proceeded out the door, leaving no choice for mjomba Sefu but to exit before them.
The shaman looked very embarrassed at having witnessed the scene. “With a missing family member, it must have been a fearsome night, to hear the news that we told Shikamoo Sefu yesterday about finding the gruesome site. I... I just want you to know, that I wish it were not so.”
Zecora’s mother picked up the bag of rings, and clutched it to her breast as tears fell from her muzzle. It was as if she had not heard what the shaman had said.
Her elder daughter had, on the other hoof, and was too angry to see anything but black.
“What!?” she shouted. “The elders knew of this yesterday?”
The shaman nodded in wide eyed surprise. She stepped back in alarm as Zecora rushed past her and out of the hut.
Outside, the elders stood in a triangle, engaged in a heated debate. A proper young zebra would never interrupt her elders in discussion, but at that moment Zecora had already begun leaving proper behavior behind.
“You liar!” she shouted, and pointed a hoof at mjomba Sefu. “You knew about this yesterday and didn’t tell us!” She spat in his direction. “You spent the day telling lies about my father, when you already knew he was dead!”
Mjomba Sefu looked at her down his grizzled muzzle. “Why ever would I do such a thing, impertinent child?” he retorted.
“To try to get back the money you lost from the maize at my mother’s expense! You are a liar and a thief!”
The old stallion growled and raised a hoof as if he was about to strike the filly when the elders once again stood between them. One forcibly led mjomba Sefu away, even as he protested. The other stared the filly down coldly.
“Do you defend him?” asked Zecora. “He lied to us! He lied to every zebra in the village! The shaman told us that they told mjomba Sefu yesterday!” – she spat on the ground again – “yesterday of finding my father’s remains.”
The elder’s expression only grew darker. “What he did was wrong, child. But it is not your place to insult your elders. To do so would bring shame upon all the zebras of this village, do you hear?” He paused as he thought for a moment.
“What you will do, young mare, is publicly apologize to Shikamoo Sefu for making such wild accusations and beg his forgiveness.”
Zecora stared at him in disbelief. Several other villagers had stopped to look at the scene. Seeing their angry looks only steeled her resolve.
“I swear it now, in front of you and all these zebras, I will not lie! Not for you, not for the sake of crooked elders, not even for my own sake! On my father’s grave, I will not be like that old snake Sefu!”
She turned on the elder, and stomped back to her hut. That same day she left the village for good.
Zecora looked down at Shad as he sobbed. She had sworn to herself that she would never use lies to ease her passage or that of another through this life. Never had her vow caused her so much pain.
But if you had lied to him, he would never want to leave this place, and you know that he must! He cannot stay here, alone in the Everfree. You had to tell him the truth. The only way his mother would not have come back to him was if she could not, and in this forest that can only mean one thing!
She knew she was right, but the knowledge didn’t lessen the pain. So she wept with him, until at some point his muzzle dropped down as if it had become too heavy to hold up any longer. A few minutes later she felt the weight of his head on her foreleg. When his shuddering sobs stopped she knew he had finally fallen back asleep.
Her own heart heavy, it took her a while before she could join the lad in the sleeplands.
Zecora galloped to the place where she had last seen the Basilisk. Heedless of the razor sharp edges of the knife bushes’ leaves, she located one spotted with its dried blood. She took a small vial from her saddlebag, shook it, pulled the cork stopper and poured a few drops onto the largest bloodstain while shouting “Kupata nyoka! ”
Tendrils of glowing green smoke rose from the clot and began tracing an ever widening spiral around her upheld hoof. After a moment’s hesitation, the wisps snaked into the forest. Zecora lept over the knife bushes and crashed through the underbrush in hot pursuit.
Thanks to her still damaged eyesight, the trail of the Basilisk wasn’t always obvious, but then, the glowing green tendrils were nevertheless easy to follow even for one visually impaired as she was.
Thank the Maker that I know this spell, she thought as she coursed through the underbrush as fast as she could manage. But it will only last a short while! Grant that the basilisk did not run far! she prayed.
The minutes stretched into eternities as the glowing wisps snaked back and forth following the haphazard path of the wounded reptile. More than once she almost followed it off a precipice as the trail meandered along a cliff in the ridge.
As if in a gruesome exchange for the sharpness of her sight, faces from her own past appeared in every shadow she crossed: her mother’s when she left the village; her sister’s when she announced she was leaving on a voyage to the far north; her father’s as she saw him that last time, hitched to a cart filled with maize; Shad’s as he lay in his sleeping nest, one hoof already in the grave.
I’ve lost so much already! she thought. Please, Maker, I beg of you, spare the little one!
Deep inside, she knew there was more to ask. Her vow to the truth demanded it.
Please, spare me this loss!
As she rushed through the forest, her tears added wet spots to leaves already stained crimson.
The glow was beginning to fade, and Zecora’s hopes with it, when she finally came to a point on the ridge that jutted over the lake far below and stopped, alert. The trees had given way to thin bushes followed by scrub on the stony ground of the promontory. A bloodied green shape laid a short distance ahead.
The basilisk faced her, shivering, belly to the ground. Even with Zecora’s blurry vision it was obvious the creature was gravely hurt. Deep gouges along its head showed where the wounded reptile had attempted to scrape off the golden ring clamped tight around its mouth. Its remaining eye had been spared, but all four of its limbs were crusted over with blood, most of them showing a missing or dangling claw.
Pity, and guilt, filled Zecora’s heart.
“My poor little green skinned cow, I regret I still must milk you now,” she apologized to the battered animal. It rose shakily to its legs and took a step backwards.
Zecora extracted several small packages from her saddlebags. “And since I no longer have the means to stun, for you this process shall not be much fun.” She stood on her hind legs, placed both forehooves together, and focused on the ring clamping shut the animal’s jaws. “Once again, I must cause you pain,” she advised the basilisk.
She spread her hooves apart and the ring grew, and since the metal had embedded itself in the creature's flesh its jaws were forced apart. The basilisk erupted upwards in a scramble of legs, scratching at the ring in its snout and hissing loudly in renewed agony. The bloodied circlet was finally pushed off and landed at Zecora’s hooves, dripping flesh and blood.
The basilisk rushed at Zecora. She stood her ground and dropped a sparkler to each side of her. Each one erupted into bright flame and smoke. The basilisk froze at the sight. It shook its head left and right, trying to spy a way past the zebra with its remaining eye. Failing to see a safe route, it began to retreat again.
Zecora removed another ring from her neck. “I’m sorry I cannot allow you to flee and hide, for one dear to me needs what only you can provide.”
As she had hoped, the basilisk was unable to open its damaged mouth very wide. It hissed at her as she expanded the ring in her hooves. When it was as large as the span of her forelegs, she ran forwards and threw it over the creature’s head and onto its neck, quickly reducing its size. It gleamed like a golden collar against the damaged hide.
Zecora scrambled back to her initial position between the sparklers as the basilisk bucked and fought to remove the choking ring. She kept a close eye on the reptile’s struggles, carefully adjusting the ring’s size around its neck. She would have only a short time in which to milk its poison glands after it lost consciousness. And if it died she would not be able to extract the venom at all.
She took an empty sample bottle from her saddlebags and held it in one hoof as the creature’s struggles grew weak and finally ceased.
“One, two, three...” She counted out loud until she hit sixty seconds and galloped up to the immobile basilisk. With her hooves she forced the reptile’s jaws apart, locating one of the venom ducts in the roof of its mouth. Urgently, she pressed a hoof against the spot until the venom sac inside began to pulse, squirting a foul smelling liquid. She placed the mouth of the sample bottle over the venom duct, collecting the milky liquid inside. When the tube was almost full she pulled away from the basilisk’s mouth and pushed the cork stopper into the sample tube’s opening.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped back to the sparklers and placed the tube inside her saddlebags.
She was about to leave when a wave of guilt assaulted her. The basilisk! You can’t let it die just because it had something you wanted.
She brought her hooves together and then spread them apart quickly. The ring around the basilisk’s neck expanded, releasing the blood flow to its brain.
She waited as the animal lay bleeding in the sun, immobile. It did not resume breathing.
Zecora hung her head. I took too long! Spirits, please forgive me!
She looked back at the beast. “I’m sorry that so much of your blood was spilled. Truly, I did not wish you to be killed,” she whispered. She bent down to pick up her saddlebag when she heard a sudden noise behind her. She rose quickly but before she could turn she was struck by a heavy object.
Zecora tumbled to the edge of the cliff, only barely managing to clamp a hoof around a branch overlooking the drop. She hung precariously as the basilisk slowly shuffled in her direction.
Maker, the colt... The prayer had not yet fully formed in her thoughts when a streak of blue hooves and feathers slammed into the basilisk’s side and sent it flying off of the cliff and onto the rocks far below. In it’s place stood a blue coated pegasus mare with a rainbow mane. She sported a smug grin on her muzzle.
“Saved at the last second by yours truly! Now what could be cooler than that?!” said Rainbow Dash, striking a heroic pose.
“Rainbow Dash! How is possible that you arrive just when I need help to stay alive?”
The blue pegasus trotted forward to help Zecora scramble up to safety. “Oh, you can thank Twilight and Apple Bloom. When you went missing they checked out your house and somehow figured out you were probably around these parts. We’ve been searching for almost a day. And then –” she pointed to the sparklers “– I saw these and figured it might be you and there might be trouble. A bit of fancy flying and awesome hoof work later, and it’s bye-bye monster!”
Her grin was replaced by a puzzled expression when Zecora, finally back on all fours, surged past her to the saddlebag lying on the ground between the two sparklers.
Zecora pulled open the flap and looked inside. A stain and bits of shattered glass marked where the sample bottle containing the venom had been stored. Her head drooped and she fell to her haunches, tears welling up in her eyes.
Rainbow Dash approached. “Zecora? What’s so important about that bag?” she asked.
“The medicine I needed to save the foal, it’s...it’s been destroyed.” Zecora gulped and looked up. “And the one source for it I know of you bucked into the void...”
Dash blushed and looked contrite. “Geez, I’m really sorry, Zecora, but that was a basilisk! A pony doesn’t mess around with dangerous critters like that.”
Dash’s eyes suddenly opened wide. “Say, Zecora! Is this like some medicine you would find in a first aid kit?” she asked, tilting her head. “Twilight insisted we bring her mega-big camping medical kit with us when we set out to find you. She’s maybe ten minutes away at my top speed. Should I, like, go and get it?”
Zecora jumped up onto all fours, fear and hope warring in her eyes. “Rainbow Dash, the kit you must bring! The life of a foal now depends on your wings!”
One instant Dash was there, the next a rainbow trail arced into the sky. A huge bang echoed over the Everfree as an expanding circular rainbow spread out to the horizon.
Zecora gazed up in awe until the colourful arc passed beyond sight. It wasn't the first time she had seen the phenomenon. A miracle on high, that make hearts sigh!
Her smile died on her lips. She limped to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The body of the basilisk lay crumpled at its base, undeniably dead. Or so she thought until she saw the creature's leg twitch, watching in disbelief as the basilisk rose even more shakily than before to its legs and hesitantly limped off into the woods near the cliff’s base. Her smile returned.
A second miracle the heavens allow! Go in peace and heal, my big green cow! With hope in her heart, Zecora sat down to wait for Rainbow Dash’s return.
Zecora didn’t have long to wait. Barely ten minutes had passed when Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash appeared in a lavender flash of light.
The cerulean mare shivered uneasily. “You know, every time you do that it gives me the heebie-jeebies!” groused Dash, rubbing a hoof on her chest as if to reassure herself that she had exited the teleport all in one piece.
Twilight trotted up to Zecora and hugged her tightly. “Thank goodness you’re safe! Dashie says you need medicine for a foal.” Taking a step back she noticed Zecora’s injuries. “Looks like you could use some patching up as well!” She levitated a large satchel marked with a medical symbol into Zecora’s hooves. The mare wasted no time in opening it up and digging hurriedly through its contents.
“A youngster lies nearby with a deadly blood infection,” she said as she pulled and discarded items from the kit. “We must immediately give him antipathogen potion!”
"Ndiyo !" she exclaimed. With a trembling hoof she pulled a small box of vials from the huge kit. “Thank the spirits! We have it!” She began trotting into the forest.
“Wait!” Twilight called, “Zecora, can you point out where we need to go from here?”
The Zebra stopped abruptly and went back to stand next to Twilight. She pointed towards a low hill. “At the base of that mound lies a cave, and within it the colt we must save.”
Dash made a face. “Awe, geez, not ag–”
“–ain!” The three mares stood near a rock wall. Dash inspected her limbs and sighed in relief when she saw nothing was missing. The entrance to a cave was just barely visible next to a large thorn bush.
“Come!” said Zecora, hurrying into the dark opening. Twilight and Dash rushed in after her.
They found Zecora kneeling on the cave floor next to a depression full of soft materials, including a large number of grey feathers. She was injecting a shot of the antipathogen into the flank of a small rust coated earth pony colt.
“Ewe, what’s that smell?” asked Dash. Twilight lit her horn and carefully moved deeper into the cave.
“There’s a pool of vomit here,” she announced. There was a flash. “Correction: there was a pool of vomit here!” Walking back she found Dash with her brow furrowed examining one of the feathers.
“This is a pegasus feather, Twi.” She placed it reverently back into the nest. “I figure these were left here by the kid’s mother.”
Twilight’s horn glowed brighter and she looked around. Her eyebrows rose when the light revealed the walls of the cave. They were full of words and pictures. “Apple, Bear, Cat, ” she read. “Looks like the foal was learning to read as well.” She exchanged smiles with Dash.
Zecora, finished with her ministrations, had wrapped her forelimbs tightly around the little foal and was crooning to him softly. “Namshukuru Muumba...”
She could not find the voice to finish the prayer. Instead, she let her tears speak for her.
Looking at the pair, Twilight grew serious and her ears drooped. “Zecora, do you know where his mother is?” she asked.
Zecora took a halting breath. “He has lived alone in this cave for months, if not longer. His survival out here is truly a wonder.” She wiped her eyes then stroked the colt’s mane. “I’ve seen no evidence of young Shad’s mother. That she yet lives, I would not wager.”
She straightened slightly and looked up at Twilight. “He needs the attention of a proper medical facility, can you transport him to Ponyville with your ability?”
Twilight looked at her and nodded. “I can manage a teleport that far nowadays. And not only him but you too, as you’re also in clear need of a doctor. Rainbow Dash?”
“Yeah, Twi?”
Twilight pulled an expandable bag from her saddlebags. “Please fill this with everything that will fit from this cave, especially all of the feathers from the nest. They might be all this little fella has left of his mother.” Rainbow nodded and promptly began looking around at what she could gather from the colt’s few possessions.
“And, Dash,” Twilight called. Rainbow looked back. “Bring the team back home safely!” She winked before disappearing in a purple flash of light together with Zecora and the small colt.
The pegasus smiled broadly to herself. “No sweat! I’ll see you there!”
Author's Note
At this point the narratives of Outland rejoins that of A Herd of my Own . Zecora and Shad story will continue there. Sorry it took so long for me to get back to these two stories, and for those who’ve waited all this time, thank you for your patience.
Dafaddah
Outland
by
Chapter one: Into the Outback
Edited by Sharp Logic, Microshazm and Mythee
A manticore, many days ago .
Shad stood, muzzle lifted high, as still as one of the many stone critters he found scattered all over the forest. Only his nostrils betrayed the smallest hint of life. They barely twitched as he carefully drew in the breeze and read the signs of life and death that rode upon it.
Raccoons. Rabbits. Squirrels. Birds.
Nothing was out of the ordinary, here and now. The air carried only the earthy smells of the forest and of the usual small animals.
A deer passed by not too long ago. It had beechnut acorns for breakfast.
Despite his peaceful surroundings, he didn’t move a muscle. Patience was a lesson Shad had learned well. He continued to focus on the wealth of information being delivered to his sensitive nose.
Beehive. Not too far upwind.
The appetizing scent made his stomach growl. Shad winced, but he knew enough not to let himself be tempted. The bees were many, and jealously guarded their hoard of liquid gold. He frowned in frustration, remembering a taste which he had only experienced twice in his life, and the pain that had resulted from his attempts to taste it once more after she was gone.
Shad tried hard to put it out of his mind and just focus on the stories carried by the breeze. He steeled himself by recalling her lessons. Scent was important, she had told him. Scent was better than eyes, especially in the dark. Scent let you know what was behind you. Scent let you get away before the monsters pounced. Scent kept you alive .
Only now, scent had nothing more to tell him.
Good!
Satisfied, he relaxed just the teensiest bit, and took a few cautious steps, moving as silently as a shadow through the trees and the undergrowth. He followed an animal trail, a narrow path nibbled through the brush by countless mouths over the course of years. For one who was wary and fleet of hoof such as he, it provided easy and quiet passage to his favourite place to drink water.
Birds, chipmunks.
Shad stopped and spied the place from beneath the last few boughs of the trail, ears erect. A minute’s vigil confirmed there were no large critters come to slake their thirst. Head erect, he moved cautiously down to the edge of the stream, casting furtive glances all around. Here, the water burst from the hillside, cold and clean and tasting sweeter than any other water he had ever found. Even better, it flowed fast and deep: monsters couldn't rush him from across the stream, and the long steep slope from the ridge above let his ears know when any critter tried to approach from that direction.
He put his muzzle down into the cool stream, drinking deep. Looking down he saw his reflection in the still water at its edge. Hi, pony! He smiled and waved a damp reddish brown hoof at the colt, who of course waved back. Strands of his dark mane dipped into the water, linking their two heads together. For some reason, just looking at the pony in the water gave him a warm feeling in his barrel. That feeling was the other reason he liked coming here to drink.
Crickets. Crows.
Shad raised his eyes and scanned the area quickly, then turned his gaze back down to the face in the water. Just then a stray wave from the current broke the image into a jumble of colours marked by sparkles of reflected sunlight. He sighed. He always liked to say goodbye before he left, but it usually took a while for the water to become still after being disturbed, too long for it to be safe.
His expression grew hard. It’s not time to play! he thought and raised his damp muzzle high. His ears swiveled in lazy arcs searching for the quiets.
Seeing the other pony reminded him of her and the lessons she had taught him. The quiet tells you where the monsters are , she had said many times. Hear the quiet!
Even now, there was little that caused him more dread than the voices of the forest grown silent. The quiet made his heart beat so fast he felt as it might burst from his chest.
Well it hasn't so far! he told himself, and if it did I would be just as dead as if a monster caught and ate me!
He smiled at the joke. It was easy to smile when the forest’s voices were speaking. They told him of the deer keeping watch in the thicket up ahead, of the squirrels that argued overhead in the canopy, their sharp little eyes seeing only rivals for nuts and trees, and of the birds. The birds saw the monsters that flew above the canopy and warned their fellows below that danger approached, a warning freely shared with any other critter who bothered to pay attention.
He looked around. Shad had learned early to trust scent and sound, but never sight. Sight was a last resort, trusted only when other, less limited senses failed. Sight could mislead you. Having a monster in sight meant the monster could see you. And just seeing some monsters could mean death, a lesson learned too late by the stone critters scattered around the forest, forever frozen, screaming out mute warnings to all who saw them of the price of looking some monsters in the eye.
Quiet as a shadow, he slowly made his way around the base of a river of rocks and pebbles that dropped from a broken section of the ridge. He never climbed the bank here as the noise could be heard from quite far away, and monsters’ ears were no doubt listening for the lazy ones who took the apparently quick path up. The bones of those who had made that mistake in the past littered the forest above it.
Hawk. Squirrels are angry.
A few minutes later Shad had climbed all the way back up to the summit of the ridge. From here he could see the lake, and the place that hid his home. He always felt lighter just at the sight of it. He remembered when they had walked the ridge together. She smiled whenever they passed by this place on their daily treks and called it a beautiful view. He had to agree, and not only because she said so. It was as if seeing such a big piece of the world all at once made him feel bigger inside as well.
The sun shone and the lake was as blue as the sky. He paused.
Does that mean that the sky is also made of water? That would explain the rain.
The question went unanswered, as did all his questions since she left. He grazed for a while as he pondered things like clouds, lakes and rain. The grass here was sweet, and there were many vigilant little noses, ears and eyes all around him. He felt their watchful attention and was soothed by the sounds they made as they boasted to each other of full bellies, warm days and safe dens.
Cicadas. Woodpecker.
He moved as he grazed. Every few paces he planted his hooves firmly in the loam, and felt the whispers of all the little lives upon, within and below it. They too smelled, and listened and watched, and the sound of their many legs scurrying and their munching mouths also told him about the forest and what lay below. They told him important things, like where the plants that killed awaited, their poison, spines and crushing strength seemingly asleep. But the little lives knew where they sat in stillness, avoiding them. The quiet under the ground was no less a sign of danger than the quiet above it. Today, there was no lack of busy lives beneath the clearing.
Shad ate until he had his fill, and no more. When he ate too much he became slower, and in the forest there were only two types of critters: the quick and the dead. Wanting to avoid their fate, he made sure never to let himself become one of the slow. Once he hurt a leg and was forced to limp back home. He didn’t leave it for more days than he could count four times. The water in the cave tasted bad, but it was safe, even if he grew horrendously, painfully hungry. He now made sure to keep enough dried food in the cave in case such a thing ever happened to him again.
Looking down towards the lake he saw that the sun was getting low in the sky. He soundlessly moved in the direction of home. Along the way he collected the plants he used to hide his scent. He rubbed them on his coat and tried not to sneeze when the pungent juice got close to his muzzle. They were potent, but as far a he knew nothing but certain bugs would ever eat those plants. No critter sought them out, not even monsters.
The birds began their evening chorus, too numerous to count. It was time to seek safety for the night.
There were many different paths that went towards his home. He avoided taking the same path twice within a double count of days. After he entered the thicket of thorn bushes that led to the cave, he stopped and listened, just to be sure no critter or monster had followed him.
Loons on the lake. A whippoorwill. Crickets.
Finally Shad reached the entrance of the cave and moved aside the barrier of thorns and brambles he used to hide the entrance. The sides of the opening were so tight it was barely wide enough for him to pass, and its ceiling in many places was only a few hoof-widths above his head. With his mouth he tugged on a vine that pulled the barrier back into the gap behind him.
He moved carefully up a passageway that snaked back and forth through the rock for several ponylengths before opening up into a cave several lengths wide and with a ceiling almost as high. He stepped over a small pile of ashes and the charred remains of sticks. At night, a small fire in front of the opening to the passageway was enough to make the space very secure from any predator small enough to gain access to the cave through it.
It was quite dark in the cave. The only light issued from the embers of a small fire smoldering in a natural bowl-shaped depression in the cave wall. Shad carefully constructed a small pile of wood at the passage’s opening, then with his mouth he took a branch from a pile of tinder and placed one end in the brazier. The dried branch quickly burst into flame. Moving carefully he shoved the burning end under the pile of wood.
He stepped back as flames lit up the cave and set shadows dancing on its walls. It also made the images drawn there seem almost alive, the bright yellow, green and ochre of the lines providing a cheery menagerie of ponies and animals big and small. He smiled in contentment. He was safe for at least a few hours. His belly was full. There was only one thing that could have made him happier.
“Momma,” he said the word. He didn’t have many words. Before Momma didn’t come back they had lived a life of quiet vigilance. They only talked in the cave, and even then in hushed tones. Silence was a discipline he had learned before his earliest memories.
He thought of her as he prepared for rest, carefully chewing on and then brushing his teeth with a green twig as Momma had taught him. He lay down in a small depression lined with dried grasses and feathers. He recalled the sound of her voice when she whispered to him in the night. Her smell still lingered in the cave and especially here in their sleeping nest. The feel of her chestnut fur when he snuggled next to her. The warmth of her body, so huge and reassuring. The sound of her breathing as she slept.
Shad no longer cried at night, or at least not so often anymore. He curled up tightly. “Momma,” he whispered once more, the one word that encompassed all that was good, and fell asleep, her presence in his mind and the longing to be with her again in his heart.
Zecora wiped the sweat from her eyes with the back of a pastern, carefully laying the results of almost two days’ labour on her workbench. The hoof-sized ball contained a concentrated form of alchemy and magic that was unstable in the best of conditions.
“Zebra girl, that's none too soon,” she scolded herself, “you rise before the setting moon.”
Despite her weariness she took the time to have a light supper of oatmeal before gingerly packing the ball she had invested so much time and energy making into a secure compartment in one of her saddlebags. It was the leaf-green pair she used on shorter forays into the Everfree.
She then finished tidying up her work bench. Zecora never knew what creature, or curious young filly – she smiled at the thought – might walk into her house while she was out, so she always ensured that her more dangerous supplies were safely stowed away.
She diligently checked the provisions in her saddlebags one last time and with a satisfied grin set them next to the door.
Tomorrow she would go hunting for dangerous game. She was wise enough to be scared at the prospect, but then it wasn’t her first time, and she knew well how to prepare. Some zebras would be horrified if they knew she attempted such hunts by herself. She imagined the censure on their faces as she suspended her hammock between two posts near the hearth and climbed into it.
When one is alone, then one must suffice. And to live as I do, alone is the price.
Zecora blew out the candle and let the darkness take her spirit into the nightlands.
The day started out much like the one before it. This was not a hardship for Shad as it had gone quite well. He had a quick breakfast of flowers collected the previous day followed by a visit to the river for a morning drink.
He washed often to keep his scent to a minimum, and also because he enjoyed swimming a great deal. Momma had long ago found the perfect place for them to take a bath. About mid-way up the ridge a small stream cascaded into a bowl-shaped depression that lay at the top of a huge slab of rock. Reeds and water-lilies dotted the the pond, which was screened by a thicket of evergreens that grew around and over it, forming a canopy. Yet the area surrounding the rock was relatively open, and so, despite being hidden from monsters’ eyes, it gave them a clear view to spy the approach of anything larger than a mouse.
This was the place of his most joyous memories. Here he had played with quiet abandon in the pond, chasing, evading and splashing his mother as she turned bath time into a game. Her bright smile and watchful eyes hovered over him as he chased skaters, frogs and tadpoles, blew bubbles in the water, and swam in what to the tiny foal seemed a huge lake full of happiness, the only place where he could safely play in the sun.
Hawk. Bluejays.
As Shad slipped into the water, echoes of those happy times brought a smile to his lips. Of course, since he became alone he had to start keeping watch for monsters himself, and so he couldn’t really play with abandon as he had before. Still, he had taken to bringing crumbs of dried plants to feed the tadpoles. There were even shy little fish in the pool now, and he was transfixed for seconds at a time by watching their darting movements. These had become less timid over time, and more greedy for his crumbs. Sometimes he had to chase one away with a hoof so that the others could get some as well.
Magpies.
A whole family of the birds landed near the opposite edge of the pond and began their own bath time. Reassured by their presence, he looked down into the water and spotted a familiar grey shape barely as long as his hoof was wide.
“Hello, Ponyfish” he whispered. Ponyfish was his favorite fish and he delighted in seeing how it had grown over days too many to count.
“You’re big now!” The little grey fish didn’t answer. It never did, but it still approached the closest and got the biggest share of the crumbs. “Hello, Badgerfish. Hello Rabbitfish.” Ponyfish’s little friends were always close by. He gave them the remainder of the crumbs.
The magpies were just as noisy as usual, and tended to drown out other sounds. But he wasn’t concerned as their sharp little eyes and ears missed nothing. It was the perfect moment for him to submerge his head and finish his bath. A moment later he climbed out of the water and shook his coat until it was passably dry. Before leaving the thicket he turned back towards the water and waved a hoof at the fish and tadpoles, faintly sad to leave their timid company behind.
Zecora woke before dawn, as she had intended. She had far to travel over difficult terrain, much of it dangerous as only the Everfree could be. To boot, she had to get to her destination early enough or she wouldn’t be able to start the hunt for her intended prey.
She washed up and finished the oatmeal left in the pot from the previous night. Opening the front door she said prayers to the setting moon as she sprinkled water over her threshold, and then repeated the offering to the spirits of the hunt, asking for a safe and prosperous journey. Finally she shrugged into her saddlebags and took off into the heart of the Everfree.
As she was in a hurry she had no time to collect medicinal or magically potent plants along the way. Twice however she spotted patches of poison joke, as well as ice berries and camphoria roses, these last two useful to fight fevers. She noted their emplacements, even though finding them again was by no means a simple task in the mutable forest, where shrubs, trees, and sometimes even hills could move considerable distances overnight. Zecora nevertheless kept her keen eyes roving. She knew every plant and and could recognize the spoor of most of its animal denizens on sight.
Her knowledge of the forest had been hard won, and was the reason she could move through it unharmed. Even before leaving her native Zebrabwe she had learned all she could of the Everfree in books and accounts from intrepid travelers that had bravely explored the chaotic forest. These books took pride of place in her cabin's limited library, and she had annotated many passages with her own notes on the Everfree's flora and fauna. Keeping an internal catalogue of what she saw, and keeping a lookout for anything new, made the journey and the miles fly by.
Mid-day saw Zecora almost to her destination: a low mount deep in the interior of the forest, where some of its larger denizens made their dens. Topping a ridge she stopped to catch her breath. There were many reasons she lived in the Everfree. Some were more private, but others were simple and easily understood. One such was the incredible richness of its flora and fauna for a practitioner of the alchemical arts such as herself. Another was that, despite its intimidating wildness, it could be a strikingly beautiful place, as in this spot: the first of a series of hills above a lake, with several large flowered clearings in plain view.
Then her sharp ears picked up a certain sound. She quickly opened a pocket on her saddlebag and pulled out a long thin stick of snake grass. At first it waved and thrashed despite the gentle breeze. After a moment it seemed to favour one direction. A few seconds more and Zecora was convinced that her prey was in the area.
Saying another prayer to the spirits of the forest, she put the snake grass away and took out a hoof mirror and the ball she had so laboriously prepared. She stalked purposefully into the lea of the forest.
Outland
by
Chapter seven: Truth And Consequences
Edited by Sharp Logic
A small movement between her forelegs gently prodded Zecora awake. Shad. She looked down at the small brown foal curled up in her embrace. He twitched slightly.
She could hear the foal breathing slowly and regularly, his breath deepening as time passed. For long minutes she could hardly shift her gaze away from the sleeping form. Each inspiration, each expiration, was a small victory. Every movement of his tiny barrel an easing of the knot in her heart.
Finally, the demands of her body became pressing. Deciding that Shad was unlikely to wake anytime soon, she carefully – and to her own surprise, reluctantly – disengaged herself from his supine body, and stepped away from the sleeping nest.
A few minutes later and her immediate necessities taken care of, Zecora's practical nature asserted itself and she set about making herself useful to her little savior and to her temporary home.
She was becoming accustomed to the cave and had memorized its layout, including all of its hazards to head and hoof. On a rock shelf she had found several bowls made of dried gourds. Using one she fetched some fresh water for Shad. She even risked a short foray outside the cave entrance to gather grasses and other edible forage that grew in the vicinity. She also collected dried branches for the guard fire at night.
Zecora worked mostly by using her sense of smell, as her eyesight was only slowly recovering. She could now make out shapes as small as the size of her hoof when seen at leg’s length, making it easier to keep an eye on the tiny foal in the sleeping nest. Still, every few minutes she came near to verify if he was resting well.
She was mostly pleased with Shad’s progress in the physical sense. Though he slept all day, at least his fever seemed to have broken. In her saddlebags she had found a salve that reduced the angry swelling on his flank. She hoped it would prevent the area from scarring.
I can heal flesh, bone and fur that's rent, but what that foal’s lost has no replacement.
She crept back to the nest and lay down next to the foal. He muttered in his sleep, shifting closer to her body. She smiled.
Ever since she had been a foal herself Zecora had desired nothing more than to leave her village’s stifling web of family and clan expectations, along with the boredom of endless days each one indistinguishable from the one just past. She often told herself, and anyzebra who would listen, that the life of village mare, settled down with mate and foals, was not in her stars, and that there was a whole world waiting out there for her to discover.
And then on that fateful day, she left the village and sought out the shaman to pursue a new life. Afterwards, there were many in her village who resented her departure and to this day refused to answer her letters. A few years later, her training now complete, she again set out into the world, her destination this time the exotic land of Equestria and the thrillingly chaotic wilderness called the Everfree.
Looking down at the foal’s blurry form, so tiny next to her, she felt the stirring of feelings she had thought absent from her vagabond heart. Something had changed within her since she befriended Twilight Sparkle and her many friends in Ponyville. The company of others had ceased to be an anchor that weighed her down. The good folks of Ponyville now came to her and very much treated her as part of their community. She also had to admit that Apple Bloom’s visits to her cottage, and the filly’s alchemical pursuits, had somehow become major highlights of her days.
Do not lie to yourself, Zebrabwe mare. You are no longer the recluse you once were.
She muzzled Shad’s wild mane. Never before she would have imagined that it might feel so good to watch over a little one. The irony of it drew a wry smile on her lips.
Those village Zebras would certainly laugh and jape, that you traveled so far only to find what you had thought to escape!
She was still smiling when Shad awoke.
“You’ve been travelling for many, many hours in the dream country. Such a long trek surely makes a young stallion very hungry!”
The youngster’s head rose towards her. At first he said nothing. His nose twitched and he dipped his muzzle into the bowl of water she had set on the floor next to him. Finally, she saw the whites of his eyes as he looked up at her. She pushed another bowl closer to the nest, this one full of fresh greens.
The foal looked at it for a moment, then lowered his muzzle into it. Munching sounds filled the quiet cave as the foal broke his fast. His ears suddenly shot up and he lifted his mouth out of the bowl.
“Good morning to you, Zecora.” As always, he spoke just loud enough to be heard. A glint of white betrayed a shy smile on his muzzle, one that was visible despite her still limited vision.
Zecora laughed. “The morn is long fled, and it’s time you were out of bed!” She lent a hoof and helped the foal shakily rise.
Up close she could finally see his face in detail. Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed the thin, haggard planes of his muzzle and the deep hollows beneath his eyes. She shuddered to think how the fever has nearly done him in. Shad stumbled as he moved onto his injured foreleg.
“Easy now, lad, just take it step-by-step. I’m sure that soon enough you’ll recover your old pep.”
He stopped. Wide eyes looked up into her face. His ears rose as he tilted his head. “When you talk you make the endings sound the same. Why?”
Zecora's eyebrows rose and she settled onto her haunches. “Amongst those of Zebra-kind, it is the mark of the shaman to speak in rhyme.”
“Rhyme?” asked the colt. “Is that what it’s called?”
She nodded.
His grin grew wider. “It sounds pretty. Is it easy?”
Zecora chuffed in delight, and gave the colt a brief hug. Her grin faltered as she felt his bones through his pelt. She made sure to recompose her expression before pulling away.
“It forces one to think before one speaks, a wise practice that more should seek!”
His gaze fell inward for a moment. “Do you have to talk that way? Momma didn’t.”
Zecora's drooped slightly. Idiot! she thought to herself. This foal needs something other than a shaman! She adopted a wry grin. “Like any habit that you can adopt, the longer you do it the harder it becomes to stop.”
When his own expression didn't change she grew more serious. Answer the question behind the words, Zecora. She took a deep breath.
“For family, and with those who are close to our hearts, shamans don’t have to speak in rhymes.”
Shad’s brow furrowed for a moment, then a brilliant smile split his muzzle. The sight made her heart beat faster.
He nodded once and murmured. “I’m glad.” Emotion washed over Zecora as Shad nuzzled her leg. Some things you cannot take back, she told herself. She suddenly realized that deep within she had made a choice, and Zecora was not one to second guess herself. She leaned closer to the foal and nuzzled him back. This is the right choice!
They spoke no words. None were needed. An instant and an eternity later, he let go. She stepped back, making room for Shad to leave the sleeping nest.
He trembled as he climbed out, taking first one halting step and then another. She followed at his side as he slowly moved towards the back of the cave. He had only progressed a short distance when, all of a sudden, he halted in his tracks. He convulsed once and then, falling to his foreknees, vomited his recent breakfast onto the rocky floor.
Alarmed, Zecora rushed to pick up the foal in her forelegs. He continued to dry heave as she hugged him to her barrel and rushed him back to the sleeping nest, where she deposited him gently.
She noticed she was breathing fast. Calm yourself, shaman, and use your brain! She forced herself to control her breathing in an attempt to still her mind.
She felt for his pulse. “Poor Shad! Tell me, does your stomach hurt?”
Still looking queasy, he nodded. Zecora raised his muzzle in a hoof and felt another tremor shake his little body. She licked the tip of his nose. His temperature had begun to rise again.
This is not good! What else?
“Do you have a headache?”
His chin dropped in a curt nod. She felt a cold spot form in her own stomach. Thinking furiously, she reached over for the bowl of water and brought it to his lips. He drank a few mouthfuls and then raised his muzzle from the bowl.
Thank the spirits, it's not hydrophobia! She returned the bowl to its former position.
She had reduced the options down to a single likely diagnosis. She felt a tremor in her own legs as she held the foal close to her.
There’s only one thing you can do if this is what you think it is.
“I... I’m so tired.” whispered Shad, barely audible above her own frenzied heartbeat. Her doubts evaporated. She swallowed. There’s one cure you know for blood poisoning, and you have driven its source away.
She looked down at Shad. You do not know how much, or how little, time is left. If you go, you must go now!
Deciding to leave the colt’s side was harder than she could have ever imagined it would be. With a pang of anguish, Zecora let go of the small trembling body, and rose.
“No... don’t...” He extended a tiny hoof towards her.
A sob wrack her barrel. She leaned over and planted a gentle kiss between his twitching ears.
“I will be back soon, my little Shad, I promise. There is yet one more thing I need to get from the Everfree to save you. Be patient, and be strong, just as I know you can be, my little hero! Do you hear me, lad? Be strong!”
His eyes had closed. He did not respond. Zecora wiped a fetlock over her eyes.
These traitorous, feeble, eyes! she thought bitterly.
With one last blurred look at the ailing colt, Zecora turned tail, and galloped out of the cave, grabbing her saddlebags with her mouth on the way.
