A Series of Unfortunate One-Shots

The Everfree

Swirling branches of nature

Caressing slightly

Weather of it’s own design

Plants and critters play

Streams align

Dance of lore

Coils of wrapped mist

Legend’s door

Hushed whispers

Pony folk are wary

Garden of the Two Sisters

Beauty within

Many layers hide

That will be, is, and been

Zecora unwrapped herself from a particular meditation pose, reposed the pencil to her saddlebags, and ventured further into the forest.