The desert winds of Appleloosa swirled all around me, choking the air with a thick cloud of dust. Most ponies had already ran for cover, ducking inside the nearest building—which usually somehow happened to be the saloon.
But there were still a few ponies working in the orchard: ponies who were too stubborn, too proud, or just plain too stupid to take the hint and get inside. I wondered which one applied to me, since I was out there with them. Still, the apples needed harvesting and that was my job. I tugged my hat down to shield my eyes, grateful for the protection it offered, and even more grateful for the bandanna I had covering my muzzle. Trust me, having dust blown up your nose is downright unpleasant.
Even with all that protection though, it was still tough going. It wasn’t too surprising that the others began to peel off and head inside, one by one. Before long it was just me working by my lonesome out in the orchard.
It wasn't that the harvesting couldn't wait until the storm died down, or was a life-or-death situation. I just wanted to do a little bit more before heading in. I wanted to get the last few apples off the tree I was working on when the storm hit. When that I was done I thought I could take care of that one last tree since it didn't have that many apples on it anyway. Then I thought I could finish up the row of trees I was on, since there were only a few more and then … well, you get the idea. By the time I reached the third stopping-point, the storm was dying down and I was plum exhausted.
I was pretty relieved when I could take finally take the bandanna—now pretty thoroughly soiled—from my mouth and shake the dust off my hat. With all the dust clinging to me and my clothes, I felt at least five pounds heavier.
Of course, just because the storm had died down didn’t mean all the sand and dust wasn’t still hanging in the air—something I remembered only after taking a deep breath. Suppose that answered my question about which description applied to me…
I was too busy coughing to notice that somepony had wandered into the orchard. The first indication I got was a canteen being held out to me and a soft, lilting and but strangely accented voice saying, “Here, take this drink.” Without thinking twice about it, I took that canteen and guzzled down what had to be the freshest, tastiest water I ever had. I faintly heard my newfound hero comment, “You needed that, I think.”
“Boy howdy,” I gasped. “Did I ever! Thank you, I’m much obliged ma’am!” I wiped my mouth and recapped the canteen—no sense using up all her water. It was when I offered it back to her that I noticed the striped pattern on her foreleg—she weren’t any pony, but a zebra. I’ve heard about zebras, of course, but never seen one for myself. There had been more unexpected sights in Appleloosa, but not many.
I gave her a longer look. The hooded-brown cloak she was wearing had kept me from seeing her face and, you know, noticing the whole zebra thing. But now she pulled it back, shaking her mane free—I only remembered later that it was called a mohawk. Her face was striped too of course, but that’s not what I noticed straight away. It was her eyes I was drawn to first: they were almond-shaped, almost the same shade of blue as the turquoise the bison liked so much.
I admit, I never really bought into that whole ‘getting lost in somepony’s eyes’ stuff before, but I’ll be darned if that wasn’t what I did right then and there. I wasn’t suddenly in love with her or anything—nothing like that. There was a depth in her eyes; the feeling that when she talked, you best listen. You saw it sometimes with ponies who had been around a long time and had seen a lot. Never saw it on somepo—er, someone—who looked so young before though.
Eventually, I realized that I had been staring and coughed. “Um, howdy.” I doffed my hat. No reason not to be polite, after all. "My name's Braeburn. Thanks again for the drink, miss...?"
"You are quite welcome. My name is Zecora, I should mention." She dipped her head gracefully. “Tell me, is it far to town? I’d like to reach it before sundown.”
Again with the rhyming. Huh. No telling how peculiar some folks talk, I reckon. Still, I just roll with it. I mean, just listen to Big Macintosh sometimes if you wanna see what I mean. Or rather, hear what I mean. Or really, not hear—
Zecora cleared her throat. Whoops. Ignoring a mare ain’t hardly polite. “Powerful sorry, ma’am, I guess I let myself get a bit distracted. Cousin Applejack allus said I’d walk over a cliff and not notice until I was halfway down.” I put my hat back on. “No, it's not far at all. Fact is, if it weren't for the sandstorm you probably would've found it for yourself if you kept going a-ways.” That’s when I thought of the perfect idea to make up for my momentary lapse of hospitality. “I can show you, if you'd like!” She seemed to be thinking it over. “Come on, I know all the best places to be in Aaaapppleloooosa!" I couldn’t help whinnying. I love my home so much! Zecora rubbed at her ears—probably just to get any stray dust out. I waved her forward with my hoof. “Town’s right this a-way.”
She nodded and started walking. Right after I fell in next to her, she started rhyming again. "You mentioned that your cousin is Applejack? How amusing, we've known each other from a ways back."
"Ain't that something?" I smiled. "Guess it's true what they say, it being a small world at all."
She just shook her head. "I find that though the world is quite ample, the circles in which we move are but a small sample."
Whoa. I gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Think I like your version better. Mind if I ask what brings you out this way? We got a lot to offer here--Wild West Dances and Mild West Dances, horse-drawn carriages and horses drawing carriages..."
She stopped and held up a hoof. “You pardon I must pray, but I am looking for something else this day. Actually, I was hoping to find the bison in town. Do you know if they might be around?”
I was a mite disappointed I wouldn’t get to show her all the wonderful things in Appleloosa, but that faded since I knew I could still be of help. “The bison? Heh, talk about your small circles! I know just where they are." Truth be told, I was mighty impressed she didn’t call them ‘buffalo’ the way most ponies did. It was only after I started spending more time with them that I learned that. Been encouraging ponies to get that right, but most keep calling them buffalo. Oh well.
Zecora blinked but smiled. "Ah, a lucky turn for today. If you tell me, I’ll be on my way."
"Shoot, why tell you when I can show you?" I mean, that is the job of a guide, after all. “The bison ain’t exactly set up any street signs and I don’t think you’d recognize any of the local landmarks we use.”
“I would hate to impose—” She started to say, looking just past me and right into the desert. Guessing she didn’t want to take me away from my job.
"It's no trouble!" I insisted, leaning in front of her. "The bison are camped out not too far from here. Besides, my momma raised me to be a gentlestallion. She'd tan my hide if I didn't see you there myself." I took off my hat and gave her my most convincing smile. “You wouldn’t make me face her and say that I let a pretty lady wander off on her lonesome, now would you?”
She sighed and I knew what her next words would be. "Well, I suppose..."
"Great!" I put my hat back on and gave her my most elegant bow. “Ladies first.”
She looked at me strangely and I couldn’t quite figure it out. Then she pointed out, “I can’t be first if I don’t know where to go. Perhaps it’d best if you led, since you do know.”
Oh. I blushed a bit. “Eheh, right then! Okay this won’t take long at all, Miss Zecora…” I started briskly walking out of the orchard, heading due east. I heard her hoofsteps behind me and slowed down a little to let her catch up with me.
There were about a dozen questions I wanted to ask her, after all, I’ve never met a zebra before, but I didn’t want to be rude either. Trying to figure out the best way to be neighborly without being nosey—that was a puzzler. I hoped she would get things going, but she didn’t say a peep. “So … what brings you out all this way to Equestria?”
The way she answered, we might’ve been talking about the weather. “I’m a simple traveler, so there’s not much to tell. I look for new things to learn, and to do so well.”
“Gosh, you don’t sound simple at all t’me!” I exclaimed, trying to put a smile back on her face. “That sounds really impressive! Reminds me of how Applejack goes across Equestria helping folks and stopping bad things from happening.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t a pleased kind of smile—it was more like the kind you get when you say something funny … only I wasn’t so I was just confused by it. “That is high praise indeed, to be associated with such company.”
“My cousin’s the best. A genuine hero.” I felt my chest puff out a little. So I was bit proud of my world-saving cousin. Who wouldn’t be? “Figure you already knew that, seeing as you’re friends with her ‘n all.” A rumbling sensation beneath my hooves told me we had reached our destination. “And speaking of friends—” I stepped forward just in time to spy Little Strongheart and a handful of her bison friends running past. “Little Strongheart!” I waved my hat and hollered.
Somehow, she must’ve heard me over the din for she broke away from the herd and ran over. “Braeburn! It’s good to see you!”
“Same here!” I felt myself smiling widely. Little Strongheart had been my best friend since us settler ponies made peace with the bison . I had even been invited to spend some nights with them as they told their legends and explained what they saw in the stars. It was powerful stuff. Everypony back in Appleloosa just smirks and gives me this weird look when I come back the next morning. Dunno what that’s about but it’s best not to fret over it. “Little Strongheart, this here is Zecora. She asked me to bring her out here to meet the bison.” I turned back to my guest. “Don’t you worry none, if Little Strongheart can’t help you, nopony can.”
“I can see that I am in good hooves. I’m grateful, for I have little time to lose.” Zecora dipped her head. “It is a pleasure to meet you, for you are the first bison I’ve met. I would enjoy learning about your ways, should time permit.”
Little Strongheart seemed to take the whole rhyming thing in stride. Then again, I suppose roaming all over the prairies means folks meet more than a few interesting characters. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Zecora. I’d like that very much, for I don’t think anyone in my herd has met a zebra either. But you said you were in a hurry—what is it you need our help for?”
Zecora stopped smiling and looked serious. I got the feeling she was more used to that. I felt myself tensing, even though I didn’t know why. “I am looking for Iktomi. Where would his home be?” Little Strongheart looked at her she was just asked to help somepony crawl inside a dragon’s open mouth. I felt shiver race up my spine. That didn’t look good.
“It is dangerous to go looking for—” Little Strongheart stopped herself, “—for him.”
Like I said, I didn’t know who this Icky-tommy fella was, but it was clear he was bad news. “Sounds like you might be better off leaving him alone.” I offered. “There’s plenty of other bison and ponies you can meet in Aaa—”
“My business with Iktomi is urgent, I can settle for nothing less.” Zecora insisted firmly. She frowned and I could tell she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “I’ve come a long way and need what he is said to possess.”
I looked from Zecora to Little Strongheart and back again, feeling a little like a colt who didn’t understand what it was that got his folks so upset. “Begging your pardon? But would one of you mind filling me in on who this feller is?”
Zecora was silent as a rock. I have to admit, despite only having just met her—it still hurt. I mean, I was just trying to help but it felt like she wasn’t going to give me an inch. Luckily, Little Strongheart was a bit more open. “Iktomi is not a bison or a pony. He’s a trickster.” She frowned at Zecora. “He is unpredictable, powerful and answers only to himself. Whatever it is you want to get from him, you’ll only get it for a price. A high one.”
Definitely sounded like bad news. When the bison talked about tricksters, they didn’t mean harmless pranksters who liked joy-buzzers and water balloons. They meant beings who liked to play with lives for their own amusement. “Miss Zecora—”
“Your worry for my safety is noted and I appreciate your concern.” She cut me off so fast it’s a wonder she didn’t take my legs out from under me. “However, I will seek him out—no matter where the path may turn. I will not be dissuaded from my goal. I ask you, please, where do I stroll?”
Little Strongheart sighed. I’m guessing she didn’t want to help, but knew that Zecora’d just go looking on her own anyway. That’s what I figured she would do. “It is a long journey, several days at least, due west through the badlands.”
Whoa, hold up now. Heading through the badlands? For days? I gave Zecora a look. “Miss Zecora—pardon my frankness, but have you ever walked through the badlands ‘afore? There’s a reason for its name.”
“I had surmised as much, the name being a rather big clue.” Her tone was dry enough that I almost felt thirsty just listening to it. “Yet, as I’ve said, there is nothing else I can do. This quest I must make take, for there is much at stake.”
Dang, she could give Applejack a run in pure-on stubbornness. “Do you have enough supplies? You need water, food, water, bandages, water, protection from the sun and don’t think I’m joking when I say you need more water.” I tapped my hat for emphasis. “It gets powerful hot out here, brighter and hotter than you think. I don’t think a heavy cloak is gonna do you a whole lot of favors out there.”
“I had planned to return to your town to gather supplies before my trip.” Her tone was brisk, business-like. I don’t think she liked being lectured. She reached back at her cloak and tugged it back, revealing some rather heavy, and full, looking saddlebags underneath. “I have traveled across many terrain—do not assume my mind would slip.”
“Okay, fair enough,” I allowed. “But supplies can only get you so far. Going by your lonesome is a sure-fire recipe for getting yourself hurt or lost.” There were a couple two-three times that I ended up getting lost when I first came out to the prairie. You learned fast not to do that sort of thing often, otherwise you wouldn't likely get to live to regret it.
Little Strongheart nodded quickly, likely thinking the same thing. “Getting a traveling companion would be the best move.”
I saw Zecora’s mouth tighten, the way Applejack would when she was about to dig in her hooves and get even more stubborn than usual. “Forgive me, but my business is mine alone. I do not wish to drag others away from their home.”
“Seems to me you’re the one who’s awful far from home,” I helpfully reminded her. “Now, we ain’t saying you aren’t capable or anything. I get that you must’ve traveled a long ways just to get here—but the badlands are unique. There’re all sorts of critters and weather that you just won’t find anyplace else.”
She didn't look happy but she was at least thinking it over. Guess she had more smarts than stubborn. Maybe she wasn't all that like Applejack after all. What? I love my cousin, but danged all if she couldn't be the most stubborn, ornery pony this side of Manehattan.
So I was feeling real good about myself for having made her see sense--when I remembered that there really wasn't any other option for Zecora. She was here all on her lonesome. Maybe she could've hired a guide back in Appleloosa--but not a lot of ponies were willing to head out into the badlands, much less to look for some sorta trickster. It also didn't sit right, just leaving the whole thing for some other pony to sort out. Plus, well ... I think she could use a friend out there, not somepony looking to just get paid.
That left only the one other solution. "So I'm coming with you." Little Strongheart and Zecora both gave me the look. You know the one, it’s the one mares give a stallion when they think he just said something incredibly dumb. Yeah, I get that a lot.
"Braeburn, your pardon I would beg," Zecora slowly spoke. "But what is going through your head?!" I get that a lot too.
Little Strongheart agreed. "You have responsibilities in Appleloosa--not to mention your family and your friends! We--they'll be worried sick."
That made me wince, since I knew she was right. I wasn't happy about that, but there were other kinds of responsibilities. "I know. I ain't looking to get my poorself lost or anything." I gave Strongheart a smile. "I know I have friends looking out for me, and they're the best. But that's part of why I have to do this." She looked confused by that. Zecora just watched in silence, I think she was a bit curious herself. "Those ponies and bison got to be my friends because, at some point or other, I ended up taking a chance on them, and them on me. I counted on them, and y'all came through for me whenever I really needed it. None of them more than you, Strongheart." She smiled a little at that. I did too.
Then I nodded to Zecora. "Now someone else needs me 'cuz she's got nobody else. I can't let her just wander off all on her own, now can I? I don't imagine I'd be able to live with myself if something happened to her. So ... I'm gonna take a chance on this." I put my hoof on Strongheart's shoulder. "You think I'd be able to look you, or Applejack or anypony else square in the eye the next time you need help and say 'I'll do whatever I can,' when I didn't here?"
She sighed and mumbled something in Bison. I hadn't picked up a lot of it, but what I did--well, shoot. I felt my face heat, so I took off my hat and wafted my face with it. "Lands sakes!" That was not lady-like.
She just laughed and punched me in the shoulder. Ow. I bit my lip to prevent from crying out. She don't know her own strength compared to us ponies. Or maybe she did and was just really that annoyed with me. Either way, she didn't argue with me anymore. She just looked at Zecora, holding her gaze for a long moment. Then Zecora seemed to nod in understanding. Some folks manage to say a lot without saying anything at all. Personally, I never got it. Before I could think to ask about it, Zecora turned around sharply. "Come along Braeburn, our journey awaits. If you must come along, do not be late."
"Er, right!" I gave Little Strongheart a last smile. "Be sure to tell folks in Appleloosa where I've gone! I'll be back as soon as I can, promise!" Zecora hadn't waited up for me to say my goodbyes, so I had to gallop up after her as we headed south. To the badlands.
I hope I hadn’t just made a huge mistake.
The sun was already starting to lower by the time we set out. Good thing too, since nothing drained you faster than walking with the sun beating down. Trouble was, that made things a might harder to see, not to mention plenty of things that came out at night weren’t none too friendly—and I don’t mean Granny Smith when she sleepwalks.
Speaking of not speaking, Zecora wasn’t exactly the most personable travel companion. In the last hour and a half of travel, she rivaled Big Macintosh in how little she said. That wasn’t too big a problem since my family always said I spoke enough for two. Thing is though, if you’re traveling with someone through bad terrain, you gotta know you have each other’s back. Trust comes hard when it’s a struggle to get your partner to say more than two sentences to you.
I was never too big on silence myself. It just felt so … oppressive. Weighing down on you, the awkward waiting for somepony to fill the void—I’d always hated it.
I was hard at work, trying to think of a way to get her to open up to me. Without really being aware of it, I started to hum—just a little, something to fill in the silence. I didn’t even realize it when I started whistling. Before long I was thinking of this jaunty little tune I heard once and, well…
“Is it typical for ponies to break into song and dance?” Zecora asked me, a slight smirk on her lips as I froze, only then realizing that I’d been dancing around and shaking my tail. “Or have you some other reason to whinny and prance?”
Well … shoot. Just glad cousin Applejack wasn’t here to see this or I’d never hear the end of it. “Um, well y’see … the thing is—” I had nothing. “Just … a music lover.” I forced myself to grin. “Don’t y’all do anything like that where you’re from?”
She nodded. “It’s true, zebras are fond of good music and songs to please the ear.” I nodded, feeling relieved. Then she let out a small whicker and added, “Though we typically have a reason before we shake our rear.”
My face heated. Sweet Celestia, take me now… “Er, well, why don’t you tell me more about where you’re from?” I was grasping and I’m sure she knew it. On the other hoof, I had gotten her to open up more than she had in the entire time I had known her. That was progress, right?
I guess she took pity on me. “I really do not have very much to tell. My home lies far away from where I now dwell. I doubt you’ve ever seen a savanna’s plains, which makes it somewhat hard to explain.”
“Shoot, try me!” I leaned in a bit. “It’s always interesting hearing ‘bout new places. I mean, you must feel the same way or you wouldn’t be here, am I right?”
I guess I managed to surprise her, judging by her expression. “You can indeed say that, albeit after a fashion. It was the urge to study that stirred my passion.” She looked away. “So eager was I to learn, and so very restless. From that day to this, I’ve hardly stirred less.”
Wow. I tried thinking about how far she must’ve traveled and, well, it boggled the mind. I was well and truly boggled. “And you came all this way all on your own? I imagine that must’ve gotten lonely.” I immediately wished I hadn’t said anything, but it didn’t even seem to faze her any.
She gave me a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose it’s all in what you make of it. I find privacy to be a good fit.” I guess I should’ve been relieved I didn’t make her feel sad by reminding her she was alone out here … but the more I thought about, the fact that it didn’t even seem to bother her was sad on a whole ‘nother level.
Zecora looked around and sniffed, tasting the air. “It is certainly a dry place we are in. Are you sure there is enough water in the tin?”
I had checked the canteens before we set out, but didn’t begrudge her for worrying. ‘Powerful hot’ and ‘powerful dry’ were only the mildest words used to describe the badlands. I took the canteen out of my saddle bag and sloshed it around. “All good!”
She didn’t look terribly reassured. She just pawed at the ground for a moment and looked glumly at the shallow hole she dug. Without even looking back at me, she explained what she was doing before I could ask. “Where I come from, you can always find water just beneath the ground. Here there is nothing … not for miles around.”
The place was a bit on the dry side, no arguments there. I thought for a moment what it’d be like, being in someplace so different from where you grew up. I knew that I wouldn’t like it if I was plunked down in the frozen north. We tried selling frozen apples as a side-treat, even set up a stand for ‘em. It … didn’t turn out well. Made the local dentist powerful happy, though.
I walked over and offered her my sympathy. “I’m sorry. These lands ain’t exactly known for being hospitable to ponies, much less zebras.”
Zecora shook her head and squared her shoulders. “There is nothing for it but to go straight on through. Still, I think I’ll have a drink before I do.”
“You might want to hold off on that for a while.” I stepped back, patting my saddlebags meaningfully. “Can’t exactly stop over and fill these up again. If you’re thirsty, I know a trick that’ll help.” Seeing that I got her attention, I took out a small, smooth stone that I carried with me. I popped it in my mouth and began to suck on it. It wasn’t a caramel apple, but it did the trick of keeping your mouth from drying out.
Zecora got the idea and started casting about to find one of her own. I offered her mine but for some reason she didn’t seem to want it. We went on a ways further before I spoke up again. “So, what is it you need to find Iktomi for?”
“That is a matter too big for me to readily tell.” She frowned. “You best focus on the trek and ensure all’s well.”
That stung. Here I thought I was getting her to open up a bit, and now she was clamping down all of a sudden. I let it go, but that didn’t stop the heavy weight I felt in my gut. I blinked and double-checked. Whew. Thought for a moment I might’ve swallowed my rock. That would’ve made things unpleasant later.
We went on for a while longer when the wind began to pick up. Came all of a sudden, too. I felt my mane and tail whip about as sand and dust started to blow in my face. I winced and pulled the brim of my hat down. I was about to shout a warning to Zecora, but I had already ended up with one mouthful of dust today and didn’t need a second. My vision was blurry, but I managed to make out Zecora covering her face with her hood.
It’s hard for some ponies to imagine dust being all that harmful ‘less it gets into your eyes, but when the wind really gets going, then even tiny grains of dust can hurt like the dickens when it whips into your flank. We tried to force our way through, but it was like walking through hardening cement. The wind was howling all around us, so much that we couldn’t even hear ourselves. After a few painful moments, I realized the wind was actually howling.
“Dust Devil!” I shouted hoarsely at Zecora. They were nasty little critters—think of a living mini-hurricane made up of fast-moving wind and dust and you had the basic idea. We must’ve run into one—or two or three. Was honestly hard to tell with them. Now, I know what you’re about to say, that doesn’t sound so scary. So it kicks up a little sand in your face, what’s the big deal? Thing is, they can whip dust through the air so fast that it can actually flay the flesh from your bones. And if you ended up breathing some of in—yeah, pleasant image, isn’t it?
I wasn’t looking to leave behind a handsome set of bones just yet, so I closed my eyes and started bucking and kicking about. Being made of air, there wasn’t much I could do to them physically. It isn’t easy fighting a bag of hot air. Kind of like what happens when them Flim-Flam Brothers showed up that one time, only Dust Devils can’t get run out of town by the sheriff.
I stumbled and ended up bumping into Zecora. I risked opening my eyes a bit just in time to see her making a move. She reached down under her cloak and pulled out a long staff she had resting on her back. She began spinning it around with such swiftness that it actually cleared the air a bit. We took big heaping breaths, grateful for the reprieve. But that couldn’t hold it—them?—off for long.
How did you get rid of puff of air and dust? Short of a fan or vacuum or somepony with really strong lungs, I couldn’t think of anything. I wished Cousin Applejack was here—maybe that’s why she was the adventurer and I was just the simple farmer.
My eyes were aching and every time I moved I could feel the cuts in my skin the Dust Devil had made. My throat was parched and I wanted nothing more than to have a nice cold drink of—“That’s it!” I shouted. Well, more like croaked, but what’s important is that I had an idea. I dug the canteens out my saddlebags—which promptly fell apart, already half-torn to shreds. But there wasn’t much point worrying about that. I opened the cap and started sloshing the water about all around us.
Ever see what happens when sand gets wet? It starts to clump together and that’s what happened to the Dust Devil. Its wind just sucked the water up inside it and soon the amount of sand and dust in the air began to lessen. Granted, it wasn’t that much and there was always more they could’ve picked up from the ground. But the very sight of water tended to spook the little dickens and it had no way to know just how much water we had around. I guess feeling its inside get all clumpy was enough to get it to think twice.
Not that we were about to idly wait for it to muster up its nerve again. “RUN!” I hollered, though I really didn’t need to. Without waiting another moment, Zecora and I both started to run for it at the same time. We ran across the plain, swerving around the occasional outcrop or cactus, not stopping for nothing. My throat was sore when we started and after a few minutes it was burning for a drink. Zecora’s breathing was also more than a mite raspy.
Mustering my nerve, I looked backwards to see if the Dust Devil was giving chase—and was relieved to see that we had left him, heh, in the dust. That certainly brightened my mood!
That’s when I fell into the riverbed and blacked out.
The next thing I remembered was staring up at Zecora, the clear blue sky bracketing her face. “Can you hear me? Do you understand?” Her voice sounded oddly muffled. “I don’t want you to have damaged your brain pan.”
I groaned, my head throbbing. “Y-yeah, I hear you.” I feebly tried to sit up, only to promptly regret it when a wave of nausea left me seeing stars. “Whoo, my head hasn’t hurt this much since that time me and Big Mac broke into the hard cider.”
Zecora let out what I hoped was a relieved sigh. “I am glad to hear you can still make a joke. Stay still while I give you a poke.”
“Beg pardon?” I blinked.
“I need to check that you have not broken anything,” she clarified. “If need be, I can always put your leg in a sling.”
I gave my limbs a quick check. “Nothing feels broken. Sore, but that’s what you get when you take a nasty tumble. Not my first one though.”
“Somehow, I do not find that much of a shock,” Zecora muttered as she went through her own saddlebags, now tattered and torn thanks to the Dust Devil attack. “I suppose it’s a small miracle you didn’t land on a rock.”
“Yeah, that would’ve been bad.” I agreed amiably as I tested my neck. No major strain there. “I think I’m mostly in one piece.”
She clucked her tongue. “Yes, but that piece is bruised and battered.” She prodded one cut that the Dust Devil had made right across my ribs, making me stiffen with pain. “Or did you think that this didn’t matter?”
“You’ve made your point,” I groaned out, still forcing myself to smile. “I’m sure, you have an idea of what to do.”
Zecora sighed unhappily. “That I do, but it will come with a great cost.” She held up a canteen. “This is our last one, the others were lost.” She uncapped it and carefully dampened a cloth in it before using it to clean out the dirt and dust in my wounds. I did my best not to flinch. A stallion has his pride, after all. Somehow, I don’t think I impressed her much though. My vest had provided a little protection, but not as much as Zecora’s cloak. Excepting her legs, she’d gotten out of the Dust Devil imbroglio in a lot better shape than I had. Made me start to wonder about getting a nice duster or something.
Course, that train of thought came to an abrupt end when she started dabbing my wounds with some foul smelling, and stinging, concoction. “Ow! Give a feller some warning next time!”
Zecora snorted and rolled her eyes, muttering something in her own language. If I had to guess, she probably said something along the lines of “Stallions!”
I got as comfortable as I could and let her work. She smeared some salve over me and slapped bits of squared patches over them. By the time she was finished I figured I looked like some fancy Canterlot collector’s private art piece—the kind that’s a total mess but nopony has the nerve to admit it. Still, the ointments and balms and what-not were cool and soothing. Given the heat, it might’ve even been worth getting dinged up just for that. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. Where’d you learn your healing from? You could teach ol’ Sawbones in Appleloosa a thing or three about healing folks.” Not to mention having a better bedside manner. And a lighter touch. And warmer hooves. And much prettier. And … might be worth asking Zecora if she’d like to stay on as our new doctor.
Zecora packed her things away with a slight dip of her head. “I cannot claim any great skill in the healing arts. More that of the skills I learned, it was a component part.”
“Shewt, if that’s just part of what you learned, I’d love to see what you majored in!” I tentatively got back on my hooves, the pain almost completely dulled. “So where did you pick that up?”
She hesitated and wondered if maybe I’d been too nosey, but I guess patching my sorry flank had warmed her up to me a bit. “There many races who inhabit my home’s savannahs and plains. Each of them had their own cultures and traditions of the arcane.” Her expression took on a faraway look, the kind some folks get when they think about home. “They had their own unique skills, and so I thought, ‘Why not bring them together, to see what would be wrought?’”
Whoa. I knew there were other kinds of magic out there than besides unicorn magic, but the idea of learning all them different kinds and mixing them together? It’d be like making pie out of a whole bunch of different types of apples. Sounded pretty good, now that I thought about it.
I didn’t know the first thing about magic myself. Me and my kin have always been a bit weighed on the earth pony traditionalist side of things, if’n you can imagine that. I didn’t quite have the suspicious attitude towards it that Granny Smith would, but I reckoned that experimenting on her own must be dangerous. But it didn’t look like she’d blown off her own eyebrows or anything—that happened to Cousin Moonshine when he tried his own hoof brewing up his own ‘special’ kinda cider. She must be even better than I had figured, and all this without even having a horn! Just goes to show you, anypo—er, anyone, can do anything if they work hard and put their all into it.
But that got me to thinking, “Is that why you came up to Equestria, to learn more kinds of magic?” Zecora paused, then briefly nodded. “I can understand that.” I gestured broadly. “Much as I love Equestria, I always felt something pulling me away from the familiar farms my family ran. I wanted to be out here, on the frontier where everything was new. I suppose I wanted to make my mark, set down some roots of my own instead of just plowing somepony else’s field, y’know?”
She nodded and gave me a different kind of look, like she was seeing me for the first time. Then she turned to pack up her supplies. I gave my shoulders a roll and my head didn’t feel like it was gonna fall off. Figured that meant we were ready to travel.
Excepting for one problem: I lost my saddlebag and all my supplies during the Dust Devil attack. Zecora’s own bags weren’t looking too good either. We’d lost about half of our supplies and used up all of our water smack dab in the middle of the Badlands. There were worse situations to be in, but I couldn’t think of all that many.
“Think we oughta—?” Before I could even finish the question, Zecora shook her head.
“If we encounter the Dust Devil again, our journey would surely end.” She frowned. “As it is, we are closer to the finish than to the start, and are better of continuing forward and taking heart. Surely there must be a spring or someplace our water can be replenished?” I thought it over, thinking about where we were and what options were around—and wondering how she was possibly gonna finish that rhyme. I had just about come to answer about the water when she burst out, “Please tell me there is, or our thirst will never be quenched.” Huh. So that’s one question answered.
As for the other, “Yeah, there’s the occasional spring or whaddyacallit, oasis. They’re tricky to find though. Sometimes they dry up or a new one starts up someplace else.”
Zecora nodded brusquely. “Then that is settled: we will go ahead and keep our senses keen. Hopefully we’ll drink our fill soon, if you know what I mean.” Without waiting for me to answer, she started climbing out of the riverbed.
I grimaced as I started up the incline. She was all business, that zebra. Still, I could see there was no stopping her and I wasn’t about to abandon her either. We headed in the distance of the setting sun. Hopefully we could make it a good ways before it got too cold and dark to travel. I knew one thing though. It was gonna be thirsty traveling.
