The Outcast Origins

Zalika reached up to the top of her shelf to clamp her jaws on the jar she was looking for. It was small and had a deep orange liquid sloshing around as she pulled it out of its hiding place. The mare set it upon the counter behind her and searched the shelves again. There were many medicines and treatments stacked and packed on the shelves along with books and scrolls containing information and instructions on treatments and mixtures for illnesses, wounds, broken teeth, you name it. Zalika rarely referred to the medical books for she could treat almost anything that she encountered off the top of her head. After a few moments of inspecting she reached up and pulled out a bag made of light muslin fabric which she placed it next to the jar of oil.

A little colt sat on the other side of the counter holding his shoulder. He was small and had vibrant green eyes that watered. His coat was covered in stripes, like all other zebras but were abnormally defined with a deep, deep black shade and a very bright white coat. In the right light it would almost look like his stripes were glowing black. Zalika was much taller than the young zebra, almost twice his size. Her eyes were purple and they had stripes that streamed down to her cheek. Her ears that were full of piercing with golden loops and small stubs, her tail was dreaded and laced with beads and coins. She had rings around her neck but they were silvery and gleamed very brightly. They did not symbolize relationship like the gold ones but rather the symbolization of a healer or shaman, zebras that were rare among their people but cherished and respected.

Zalika opened the muslin bag and pulled out the dull brown moss that seemed very dry and wrinkled. She set it down and opened the small jar of oil and a smell seemed to burst. It was deep, earthy, and nutty with a light note of weirdness that was hard to place. The potency was strong and overpowered all of the many surrounding smells in the hut. The foal cringed at the scent "Ugh something that smells that bad can’t be good!" Zalika chuckled and spoke but in Savannin "Many do not like the smell of Tamanu, but its effects are many and outweigh the off putting smell." The mare clamped her jaws on the jar and poured it on the moss. Almost unrealistically it absorbed every drop without a problem. Zalika stepped out from behind the counter and trotted over the side of the hut that had a lot more shelves and various materials. One had all sorts of cloths and sponges. She grabbed a roll of gauze and trotted back to the counter were the colt sat speaking while in the rhyming language.

"The Sphagnum moss is like a sponge,
And in Tamanu oil it will plunge.
The Tamanu oil shall reduce the pain,
But its effects shall soon wane."

The zebra scooped up the soaked moss and moved the colts hoof. There was a big painful burn that covered his shoulder and had badly soared. Zalika was surprised the young zebra was as calm as he was knowing it must have hurt very badly. He winced as she placed it softly on the burn and rapped the colts arm tightly in the stretchy fabric.
The gorgeously sewn blanket that neatly hung from the entrance flipped up as a young zebra entered carrying lots of flowers and herbs. Zalika finished tying the bandage "Ahh Zecora, I take it you have the things I asked for?" the young filly placed the basket to the side and grinned. "Yup!" she giggled at the sight of the injured colt. "I wouldn't need to if someone knew what they were doing."

"Hey! You wouldn't be laughing if this happened to you!"

"But it won't." She said to the injured zebra

"You're such a goodie four shoes!"

"Well you as thick as a rhino!"

"Children!" Zalika shouted! "You may choose to fight, or see the good in Stripe Striders mishap."

"Yeah, Zecora-.... Wait good?”

“Sometimes the big mistakes in life are the most important, without them how would you learn your hardest lessons? Rather than teer and cry be grateful it happened.”

. . .

Zalika stirred the boiling water in the small cauldron. It sat on a metal frame placed on a block of stone that had been carved inward to create a stove top were coals and wood could be held and lit. The fire blazed strongly and the amber glowed heating the zebras. The shaman reached into the basket of herbs and pulled out a mouth full of mint leaf, tossing it into the large bowl while making motions with her hooves. Green shimmering smoke arose then swirled mysteriously and the boiling water turned blue. She spoke not of Savannin.

"Now listen here my learning foals,
To what I show you upon these coals.
The ways of zebra most won’t accept,
But only by those not as adept.

They'll come with fear,
And full of hostility
But don't shed tear,
And maintain civility.

They are not your enemy,
Those not of alchemy.
Show them your ways of heal,
And if they reject you, that's their ordeal."

She continued to stir the bubbling blue liquid then snatched the Fire lily to toss it into the cauldron and it turned the boiling mixture purple. It started to steam and filled the room with a spicy mint aroma.

"To cure a burn from fire,
There are herbs you must acquire.
Some far away
Some closer, they lay

First the mint leaf,
To bring cold relief
Then the flame flower,
To target burns power”
She grabbed a bottle and poured it in the mixture
And final you obtain,
One not of terrain
The Aloe Vera oil,
And bring it to a boil.

The mixture lightly subsided but continued to steam. Zecora spoke in Savannin "That's the same rhyme that the zebra at the market said!"

"Yes it is a well-known one for, burns are common. Remember it, and it may come in handy." The shaman trotted around to the front of the hut where the shelves were and snatched a bottle from a large chest then returned. She dipped her hoof in the steaming liquid and the young zebras gasped expecting her to pull a swollen hoof from the seemingly blazing hot liquid but without a flinch. She pulled her hoof out completely unharmed and holding a full bottle chuckling "Do not fret young fillies. The brew is to cure a burn, not to inflict one. What you see is not steam but magical vapor. Now young Stripe Strider, drink up." The colt was hesitant but bit the tip of the bottle and guzzled it down. He set the bottle down and coughed then shivered shaking his head. "Ugh! Talk about a rush!"

“Maybe your stupidity is taking its effect.” Zecora rudely giggled

“I think I'm having withdrawal from your face!” Zalika glared angrily at them both and contained the urge to burst.

"Medicine is not known for taste. Its effects should work quickly." The colt started to jitter as it coursed down his throat and his belly started to feel a tingly cold sensation. The liquid surprised the filly, for it was icy cold without a sense of warmth and had just came off a blazing fire.

"Uhhhh hu! I-is-s it me or did it just get c-colder in here?"

"The side effects aren't as pleasant, but after some time they shall subside."

"H-hey uh-h, I h-hate-t to be the one who-o breaks it t-to you but I-I think y-your f-f-fire is broken."
Zecora slapped her hoof to her forehead "You ostrich brained gazelle! You can't break a fire!"

"My dad broke a-a f-fire once!"

"You are such a liar!"

"Children! There is no need to fight, heat will not work with the magic’s chill for it is unnatural." Zalika interrupted

"Ha! Told you so!"

"Shut up eg-g head!"

"All of you!" Zalika once again shouted. "You are here to learn. If you choose not too you should leave." The mare paused for results. She was growing very impatient and the young zebras were pushing their limits. "That's what I thought now, it is getting late and we haven't even started our next lesson. We have a lot of catching up and the next lesson is on culture, one of our biggest subjects! Clean up and we shall start." The small zebras moaned and sighed "Come on Zalika, what about the magic? We haven't even talked about it, just things like animals or bugs." Zecora complained. "Shamans are not performers!" She snapped

"But-"

"No buts! Everything I teach has its purpose whether its the taste of dirt or the color of the sky. Now... I want you to clean up this mess and we shall start the next lesson, it is a long and you will need to study. Am I clear?"

Both zebras nodded and started to clean without a word. Wow, Zecora thought. Another six hours on history and life! Why couldn't they just start making cool brews like their mentor and stop traveling around town for her errands, constantly dancing around the big picture... Magic. She was growing very impatient and her short attention span was biting at her every minute, wanting to know more about alchemy and not being able to get any chance to use it at all.

After they bottled the rest of the brew, labeled them and tidy up the small room in the hut they had cooked in it was time to sit down and torture themselves through another one of Zalika's lectures on zebra this and zebra that, ooh look at this pretty grain of dirt! Lets learn how dirt is made! Stripe Strider was in a sour and cold mood. His tolerance was well gone and sitting his rump on the dusty cloth in the front of the brewing room for yet another lesson was not all too motivating. He was bored.
“ Yes, yes I can see you're all very ‘excited’ to be here.” Zalika announced in front of the drowsy pupils. “Well, you better wake up because this lesson is the most interesting one yet. Any of you guys heard of a Pony before?” She was more intrigued than usual at the mention of the word pony. “Oooh!” Stripe Strider excitedly added with a large grin on his face. “I bet its some breed of DIRT!” Zalika's happy expression at the Stripe Strider's misread sarcasm dropped into anger. “I can’t wait to get started...” He finished in a bored and rude tone, slouching back down. Zecora failed to hide her laughter. “You think this is FUNNY!?” Zecora stopped with timid wide eyes. “All you do is complain about not learning about magic and now that I mention a type of people that revolve their whole lives around it you mock me!” Both zebras eyes grew in excitement “Ha ha ha ha, Yes that's what I thought... lesson over!” She sneered.

“What!?!” Stripe Strider hollered. “We weren't on the mat for more than a minute and were DONE!?”
“Oh I’m sorry, did you suddenly gain interest in my lessons? Consequences are tough aren't they? Maybe you’ll hold your tongue next time you speak.”

The fillies left the room huffing and puffing with anger and disappointment and the mentor laughed at her accomplishment successfully teaching the lesson without a mishap. Not one single thing had went wrong, just as she predicted.