Whatever you may be, you could be useful to me
Stem of mushroom - tongue of lizard
Pound of permafrost reserved from the blizzard
Manticore toxin - parasprite drool
Add a pinch of salt to complete my gruel...
Zecora was happily mixing up a brew in a boiling pot. As all the ingredients finally came together and began to bubble up, small clouds of a clear white mist rose up as they popped on the surface. She leans over the pot and takes in as deep of a breath as she could muster. She exhales deeply with a smile on her face. "With sinuses clear, and phlegm not in the way, I can safely return to my chores today."
She gazes around her hut, satisfied that her cold has been quelled for the time being. Her ingredients were all neatly organized inside a small cabinet space, her tiki torches rested up against the wall in a corner, and her face paint and accessories were modestly displayed on a desk in the back beneath a window. The aroma of her boiling tonic began to fill the hut in a thin smoke that gathered near the ceiling; Zecora relished in its relaxing effects. It wasn't so much the smell, which was fairly foul, but rather the way it soothed her ills.
As she passes her eyes by the layered shelves adorned with her mask collection, she quickly notices one that looked out of the ordinary. Despite it having all the similar colours and patterns that she is used to, she identified a distinct difference in its design: A large, thin, dark plank of wood with various smaller pieces of lighter colours to simulate the appearance of a mouth, nose and eyebrows. It seemed to be staring at her with its half-lidded eyes which were a solid yellow.
"My my, what have we here?" Zecora scratches her chin in genuine intrigue. "A gift from a friend?" She was startled when she saw the the mouth begin to move. Zecora's eyes shot open. "Oh dear..." She takes a step back to assume a defensive stance.
The mask's lips slowly parted to reveal a thin glance at pearl-white teeth. A soft sound similar to a long breath could be heard before it closed its mouth back to its previous position.
Zecora makes a rash assumption that she may have performed a ritual in her sleep, like she has been known to do on occasion in the past. Whether she may be hallucinating through the effects of a curse or her sickness, or perhaps an incantation that allowed the gift of an unknown mask with semi-sentience, she gives it the benefit of the doubt and approaches it. Taking a huge risk with the hopes it may be docile, she maintained her caution.
She keeps her front hoof extended to protect herself. "I do not know where you come from. But I hope some answering may be done." Leaning on the side of it being sentient, she comes within a short distance and braves the decision to pick it up. She brings it up close and inspects it by turning it over slowly. As her examination continues, she begins to quicken her movements. Now flipping it every which way as if it were like any of her other masks, she lets out a sigh when she sees that the mask has not moved like it had before. "Surely it was all in my head." She settles on the possibility of it being a surprise gift from Applebloom and that she was hallucinating. "Perhaps, before my chores, I should return to bed."
However, morbid curiosity got the best of her. She decided before returning for a couple extra hour's rest to give the strange mask a test-wear. Not two seconds of slight adjustments later did she feel the mask to apparently clasp itself onto her mug.
Zecora flung her head side to side and attempted to pry it off out of panic. Her assumptions were wrong, the mask did in fact have a mind of its own; or maybe she's having more vivid than usual dream. Nonetheless, she tried in vain to remove the mask as began to lose her balance on her hind legs and crash forwards into the wall. She felt herself fall on top of a pile of rubble after impact. Now under another hypothesis that the mask is destructive, she stood back up and resumed her struggle. "Release me this instant, foul spirit! And what is that music?! How do I hear it?!"
She was completely blinded by the apparition that had a death-grip on her face. She began to run on all fours in a random direction to intentionally crash into trees. As she suspected, she bulldozed through each of them without resistance or pain. The mask showed no signs of loosening its grasp as it took the brunt force of every collision.
Through what seemed to be none of Zecora's doing, the mask suddenly let go within an instant; just in time for her to crash face-first into another tree. Through her agony, she accused it of carrying out some act of revenge in her thoughts. She was to busy groaning and wrapping her front legs around her forehead and snout.
Convulsing on her side trying to lessen the pain, she heard a deep, male voice that spoke to her in a tribal tone not unlike her own. "I am terribly sorry. I don't usually panic like that when I am jostled from my naps." Zecora registered the voice's remark by momentarily holding herself still before returning to her churning.
By the time she was well enough to stand back up and reopen her eyes, the mask was nowhere in sight. Zecora made her way back to her hut by following the path of fallen trees she left in her wake. The impact did more than just give herself a mild concussion. "My congestion is back... Darn it all." She continued to hold her her forehead as she tried to breathe in through her nose. "Forget about that mask, I need a Hoofinol..."
Author's Note
I got a thesaurus!!
[Link to other sequel]
