Green Bottle had an enemy.
The twenty-three year old changeling fought this enemy every day, and he fought it with the sort of tenacity and dedication normally reserved for individuals whose parents were gunned down in a moonlit alley. In a thousand different ways, on a thousand different battlefields, he had fought this enemy. It was an enemy whose omnipresence was equaled only by its implacable nature. Yet both of those qualities were exceeded by its wanton cruelty. This foe struck down the young and old, the weak and the powerful. It did not hesitate to strike down the hale and hearty, or even tear infants from their mother's tender embrace. It was an enemy with a thousand different names, yet no face. It was a foe that no one could truly defeat, yet one that he had spent his life fighting against.
That enemy's name was disease... and Green Bottle was a doctor.
While a changeling's body was incredibly durable, one could just as easily fall from disease as any other creature. In fact, they tended to get ill more often, since the swarm lacked any sort of medicine, asides from what they could steal from other societies. Worse, there were few, if any, among the swarm who knew even a little bit about the practice of medication: Before Green took an interest in medicine, there had only been one elderly changeling in the hive who could have been considered a doctor, and even he wasn't all that great at the job.
Being a doctor wasn't 'cool'. There wasn't any 'glory' in treating the sick. That was what a lot of changelings thought: A good number of them went off to be soldiers, and many of them came back with infections, illnesses carried by their enemies, and allergic reactions to new types of pollen (And many other substances) that they'd never encountered before. From sniffles to near fatal maladies, that elderly changeling was the one to see, and while he was good at what he did, he was only one changeling, so just as many ended up passing away as surviving.
As a youngster, Green had witnessed his strong, hearty father nearly die from a simple infection. One of the strongest, bravest, and most valiant aristocrats in the swarm had proven powerless against a life form who was so small that it could not be seen with the naked eye, and whose only ability was to make more of itself. He was eaten away from the inside, to the point of being on his deathbed, by a creature who lacked even the ability to think...
And yet, that one old changeling who knew about medicine had come in, taken one look at Green's father, then went to work. He began by crushing a few plants, grinding them into a paste, and applying the mixture to a bandage, which he placed over the wound. He then gave Green's father a bottle of foul smelling liquid, and said to drink a little every few hours. Within a day, Green's father had begun to recover, and within a week was back to his old self, as though nothing had happened.
It had not mattered that Green's father was an aristocrat, or that the elderly changeling had been born a commoner. It had not mattered that the victim was a hale warrior in his prime, or that the one treating the victim was old and frail. All that mattered was knowing how to defeat this enemy...
And Green Bottle, or Lucilia Caesar as he'd once been known (He'd taken the commoner name as a way of demonstrating that his aristocratic status did not matter when it came to the practice of medicine), had decided that this was a foe worth fighting: Other, stronger warriors could fight the hive's more tangible foes, but this was an enemy which needed to be fought, lest it eventually overwhelm the swarm. With his father's permission, the young aristocrat became the doctor's apprentice, and quickly learned the medical arts.
In the years that followed, he learned the secrets of herb lore, using plants, molds, mosses, and more to craft medicines. He also learned how to identify, and treat, most forms of poisoning. After his teacher's passing, Green had continued his education by stealing medical texts during changeling raids, questioning doctors during extended occupations (Surprisingly, most of the doctors were more than willing to 'talk shop' with another doctor, regardless of species. A doctor anywhere was a doctor anywhere, it seemed), and secretly observing medical procedures performed in hospitals.
Perhaps more importantly, he treated anyone he found suffering: Commoners, aristocrats, and even non-changelings. The day he'd begun his training, the old doctor had made Green swear several oaths. Among those oaths, he swore never to turn his back on anyone in need... and to never use his knowledge to harm another living creature.
And so, shortly after his twenty-third birthday, when the love sphere of doom sent him, and the rest of the swarm, flying off, it should be no surprise that those oaths would end up getting him into a whole lot of trouble. A changeling can easily get himself killed, helping others...
Author's Note
The Green Bottle Fly's larva is known to be used to treat infections: It consumes dead, infected flesh, yet it leaves healthy flesh untouched. While the invention of penicillin made the use of this fly's larva less common, it was, for a very long time, one of the most effective ways of treating infections... even if having maggots eating your flesh is really, really gross...
"Well, this is a fine mess."
Green Bottle looked over the river before him, frustrated. After getting hurled from Canterlot at high speeds, it was no wonder he'd have gotten lost. He'd landed, thankfully, in a soft patch of leaves and other detritus, which had cushioned his fall. However, he was utterly lost, and had only succeeded in exiting a thick and rather primeval looking piece of woodlands just a moment before. Now he faced a clear landmark, a river that, while deep and wide, was thankfully rather gentle in its flow (It would be easy to cross, which was good since Green was not a strong swimmer, and his wings were still too sore from his landing to risk flight just yet), it would be a good landmark to use to get his bearings... were it not for the fact that his knowledge of Equestrian geography was slightly less than his knowledge of the mating habits of seaslugs.
Night was quickly falling, and it would be a bad idea to try and travel in the darkness. He spotted a small hill on the other side of the river, a cave clearly visible, a perfect place to take shelter until morning. He looked over the river one more time, and readied himself for the swim across, when he saw something completely unexpected...
There was a zebra on the opposite shore of the river, clearly unconscious... or worse.
Without hesitation, Green dove in, and began paddling to the other side. While not a strong swimmer by any length of the imagination, concern lent him wings (Or perhaps flippers), allowing him to cross the river in record time. Once clear of the river himself, he pulled the unconscious zebra ashore, and began a cursory examination.
The patient was a zebra, female, eighteen or nineteen years old. While her body was slightly cold, it was within normal tolerances, and her heartbeat, while weak, was still steady. However, she was not breathing. Otherwise, she was in good health, and with no visible injuries. Treatment? CPR.
Alternating between chest compressions and rescue breathing, Green went to work. On the third round of rescue breathing, the mare suddenly snapped to consciousness, her lips still locked with Green's (Always an awkward moment, but at least Green was not performing CPR on a male this time...). Pushing Green off of herself, the zebra took a deep breath, and began coughing. After a few seconds, the zebra's fit passed, and she began breathing normally.
Once her composure was restored, Green asked, "Are you alright?"
The zebra looked at him, a confused look on her face, and asked, "Utheni?"
Great... so apparently she didn't speak Equine. Green's knowledge of Zebric was rusty, but he might as well try. If he remembered right, she'd just asked, 'What did you say?'
Clearing his throat, he asked, "Ingabe ulungile?"" 'Are you okay?' At least, he hoped that was right...
Seemingly more surprised by the fact that he spoke Zebric than by her rescuer's odd appearance, the zebra replied, "Ngiyaphila, ngicabanga..." 'I am well, I think...' Then, looking around, she seemed startled by her surroundings. Her expression now one of near panic, she asked, "Iyini le ndawo? Ngikuphi!?!" 'Where is this place? Where am I!?!'
"Wena ezweni amahhashi," Green said, after a moment's hesitation. He couldn't remember the word for Equestria, so he'd resorted to 'You are in the land of horses.' Close enough, he supposed...
The zebra tensed for a moment, then seemed to take stock. After a moment, she said, in halting, but understandable, Equine, "This... is... Equestria?"
So she did know a little pony talk. Nodding, Green said, "Yes. This is Equestria. I'm, um, not sure where, exactly, in Equestria this is, but yes. This is Equestria."
Letting out a long breath, the zebra said, "I... I made it..." Looking up at Green, she paused, then said, in slightly better Equestrian, "Please, forgive my manners. My name is Idube. I... I have come a long way to reach this place. I thank you for..." she paused, seeming to struggle for the right words, before saying, "Umoya wokuphila." 'The breath of life'? Was that the right translation? Well, he supposed that was one way of describing what he'd done...
After a moment, she said, "I am deeply in your debt, but I fear I cannot repay you yet. I am in need of more help. I..."
Holding up his hoof, Green said, "It is getting dark, and I think you're just as cold as I am, after your trip down the river." Gesturing towards the cave, he continued, saying, "Let's get a fire going in there, and then you can give me the whole story. Alright?"
After a moment's hesitation (It seemed that, while she spoke Equine after all, her command of the language was a little bit shaky), she nodded and said, "Yes. That is good. I could do with warmth..."
A few minutes later...
Her name, as she said, was Idube, and she was a princess.
Well, princess was not the right word for her role. A better translation would have been 'daughter of the chieftain of the chieftains', but princess rolled off the tongue easier. Her father, to hear her description of him, was a wealthy and powerful leader, ruler of a confederation of several large and powerful tribes. While the Zebra homelands had no single true king, there were several confederations like these, and Idube's was among the biggest.
Sadly, her position as daughter of the chief of chiefs meant that her husband would be next in line when her father passed away. While she'd been able to turn away the more repulsive suitors, one of them had decided he would not take no for an answer. Normally, this would be the kind of story that ended with 'And the jerk ended up impaled on a spear, the end', given that Idube was the apple of her father's eye, and he would not have forced her daughter to wed somebra that she did not love. However, this particular jerk was a powerful shaman (Well, that was how Green had translated the word, anyways)... one believed to be centuries old, and incredibly powerful in the ways of the dark arts...
The shaman had threatened to rain disasters down upon her father's tribes, should Idube refuse his advances. As a result, Idube's father was caught between love for his daughter, and his responsibilities to his subjects, and Idube, not wanting to force her father to make a decision between the two, had chosen to flee her homeland. She had set off for Equestria, hoping to beg for the aid of the princesses, since Celestia had been a friend of her father for many years. Idube had hoped that, with the aid of Luna and Celestia, it might be possible to defeat the shaman and save her people from his cruelties. After all, a practitioner of the dark arts could hardly be expected to be a kind ruler. Odds were, if he became the chieftain of chieftains, he'd just end up being a striped Sombra...
She'd not counted on the shaman following her, however. Nor had she expected the shaman to sink the ship she was sailing on in an attempt to capture her. Hopefully, the shaman thought her dead, killed by the storm he had summoned, and would pursue no further. However, if he did think her dead, he might decide to visit plagues and famines amongst her people out of spite...
"And so," she said in conclusion, "I need help in reaching the castle of the princesses as soon as possible. Can you help me get there?"
Author's Note
Idube: A Zulu word for Zebra. Likewise, the 'Zebra' speech is also taken from google translate for Zulu. If I made any typos, please forgive me.
