Zebrican Life

Chapter 11

Zecora laid on her cushioned bed, her hindlegs slightly parted so that her swollen teats were accessible to her little foal. Her son was a beautiful colt and even though he was still a newborn he was the stripping image of his father. The thought alone made her shudder and smile widely with joy. To have the product of their love silently searching for his food and to be able to touch him was a kind of happiness she never thought could be reached.

Of course, she hadn’t been able to do anything other than tending for her foal ever since his birth a few weeks ago. Not that it matters, she thought as she caressed her foal’s head. A new mother was bound to take care of her foal and focus solely on it until it began to walk on its own.

Even then her role as a mother would only begin. Mares were expected to focus on raising foals, as tradition dictated that motherhood had to be taken seriously and was the greatest achievement any mare could ever hope to achieve. From peasants to royals the tradition was sacred and was followed to the letter.

She had always questioned such strict traditions, that was no wonder, but after coming back and living through them she had come to see the wisdom buried in those traditions. More importantly, the more she stared at her foal the more she felt like doing anything to protect him and prove herself as a good mother.

Looking around the room, the royal nursery, in fact, she spotted a few of her sisters-in-law, Princesses and sisters of Zhamir also tending to their foals. Some were newborns like her little colt and others were nearing the time to leave the nursery.

“Mmmmppphh!” She moaned, surprised. Looking back at her foal, she saw him desperately trying to suck more milk out of her now empty teat. “Now, now, little one, sunshine of my eyes, there is nothing more for you inside,” using a hoof she guided him to her other waiting teat: her little foal instantly suckling on the milk-dripping nipple with a ravenous hunger that caused her to moan again. “Drink and grow strong, my beautiful foal; know that you are my light and my pride.”

She then relaxed again while breastfeeding her foal. The sensation of fulfillment and near overwhelming happiness impossible to ignore. Her colt suckled on her teat, desperately so and she felt elated. “So this is what motherhood feels like,” she said with a sigh. “I started as a Shaman, then I became a Princess of the Realm, and now I’m a mother. Truly, I am blessed,” she said to herself.

“And I am blessed to have you as my wife and mother of my foal, my love,” Zhamir said, eyes drippy and smiling tiredly.

“Finally awake?” Zecora chuckled, nuzzling her beloved and letting him sniff her bald, stinky head and lick her too. “Slept well?”

“At the side of my two most precious treasures? Always,” Zhamir declared. “I’m so proud of you, Zecora. Not only have you made me a father but also embraced motherhood like a true and proper mare. You fill me with pride,” he nuzzled her again.

“I am happy, so, so happy,” she replied.

“Tell me, what does it feel to be a mother?”

“It is unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” she spoke, not bothering to rhyme at the moment. She was too tired, happy, and relaxed to put on the effort to do it except when talking to her foal. “I never would have imagined that being a mother would make me feel so complete and content with my life.”

Zhamir smiled and nuzzled her once more, his eyes focused on his little colt. He loved him like nothing else and now he could understand why his parents acted the way they did whenever a new foal was born into the family. His mother in particular was happy to see him become a father. Of course, just as proud to be a grandmother as she was she made keen work to ensure his wife would be a proper mother and be comfortable in her position.

On the other side of the family, his wife’s family were overjoyed that Zecora had finally become a mother. Everyone without exception had come to see the new baby and everyone loved him. Even the friends of Zecora in Equestria had come to see their son and had showered them with gifts and good wishes.

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought that his wife, the Shaman Princess of Zebrica, was so loved and appreciated that even the Princess of Friendship herself had come to pay her a visit. But the real victory in his eyes was how much Zecora had adapted to become a mother.

“You’ll be a most excellent mother, Zecora, my Zainabu,” he praised, staring intently at how Zecora gently licked their son’s head. “Better than I could’ve ever imagined.”

Pulling back from her son, she turned to lick Zhamir’s lips. “And I am happy to be married to you, my love. Even happier to be the mother of our handsome little Prince.”

“He will be a great Prince born into a new era. He will be greater than you and I combined. He will be as beloved as Zhaka and be more famous and remembered throughout time itself! Even the Gods and Spirits shall look down upon him with admiration and respect for the things he shall achieve!”

Zecora giggled. “My husband, is your vision so short? I hear the whispers of the Spirits and they tell me that our son shall be forged a new era himself, anything else would be a snort.”

Zhamir didn’t reply with words but he kissed his wife and then both watched over their foal, basking in the glory of their parenthood as the little colt continued to eat. The two proud parents enjoying each other’s company and the sight of their foal safe in the knowledge that the future for them looked brighter than ever.

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-Eleven years later-

“Mom! Mom! What does the potion do?” A little filly, the image of Zecora when she was her age but with the vibrant eyes of her father asked as she and her younger sister stared into the bubbling cauldron.

From the other side of the metal container stood Zecora, using her magic to stir the pot and a foreleg to gently rock the sleepy baby filly nestled against her barrel with a saddlecloth. She looked at her daughter, Zhembe and Velia, in honor of her grandmother, while her youngest daughter, barely eight months old and still too young to start learning how to walk, Felicia, cuddled against her barrel for warmth and safety.

“It helps hair grow, my darlings. Ponies need them to fulfill their callings,” she replied.

“Pony mares are nice but weird. Why don’t they go bald like you, mama?” Velia asked.

“Because our cultures are different. There is no reason to judge them for not following our traditions, embrace them as friends and they do, for to not do so would just invite ignorance,” she replied, again, wisely.

The lesson continued in silence as her daughters watched the potions slowly brewing. She was happy when they began showing a genuine interest in the ways of the Shaman and they were curious, quick learners, and hungry to prove themselves. Well, they are their father’s daughters after all, she thought, smiling. Speaking of which, her two sons, Zhymur and Zerek, her oldest and second-born respectively, were out with their father.

Looking at the clock she noticed that they were bound to arrive at any moment. But that didn’t distract her from her work or from looking around her expanded treehouse in the Everfree Forest. Over the years she had made it a habit to travel to Ponyville to further expand her knowledge and teach her foals how to choose their own path.

She had chosen her own, after all, and it would be hypocritical of her to push them onto the traditions of their homeland or deprive them of the chance to follow them on their own accord.

But there was no denying that her life had become a never-ending source of joy and fulfillment ever since she embraced the lifestyle of motherhood in all aspects, tending to her work as a Shaman alongside it but never taking away time from her duty as a proud mother.

“Is it almost ready, mom? I see it turning to blue!” Zhembe asked, pointing at the cauldron.

“Yes! Yes! The potion is almost ready! See, I told you we’d do it right!” Velia said, excited at their success as she bumped her older sister’s rump with hers.

“Now that the stirring is done, all we have to do is let it rest for five minutes and the potion will be done. It is your first time preparing this potion and I must say, you have more talent than what I begun!” Zecora said, praising her daughters. “Now, while we wait, Zhembe, why don’t you tell us more about that colt you play with? I am yet to know him by name but I see that you are quite forthwith.”

Zhembe blushed. “Mooooooom!” She cried out, face beat red and looking away.

Zecora tilted her head while Velia giggled. “There is nothing wrong with young love, my dear. Your father and I were younger than you are when we met and fell in love, in fact.”

“T-Trample Sprout is just my friend, mom!” Turning her head away, she smiled coyly. “B-but thanks… for not being angry.”

Zecora shook her head. “I could never be angry about love, Zheme. But you are still young, still a filly, but you need to know that at your age things are uncertain. Don’t be afraid to follow your heart and remember, always treat him nicely and he will treat you nicely. Be truthful, be loyal, and show him that you care for him, okay? That’s how love is nurtured from an early age.”

“Thanks, mom,” Zheme replied, smiling at her mother; her face beaming.

“Now, why don’t you help your sister and me fill these flasks? It may not be much but it is a daunting task!”

The three mares were almost done filling the several dozens of crystal flasks when the door to the wooden hut opened revealing Zhamir, Zhymur, and Zerek. The two colts, despite old enough to stop being considered colts anymore, upon seeing their mother rushed to her. The scenario played in reverse as the two fillies put aside what they were doing to rush and greet their father.

Everyone nuzzled and Zecora got a firm, wet kiss from Zhamir the moment they were reunited. “Did everything work out?”

“To perfection, same as you, my love,” Zhamir replied. “Kids, why don’t you go outside and make sure the sigils are still in place. After that, you may play for the rest of the day.

“Yeeeaaaaaayyyyyyy!” The four siblings cried before rushing out of the hut.

Alone with only the now sleeping Felicia nestled against her mother’s barrel, the married couple nuzzled again. “Was everything alright while we were gone?”

“Better it could never go unless carefully planned. Your daughters show promise and a keen eye, their talent is indeed grand,” Zecora replied. “They made this potion all by themselves, I did not guide until it was time to call upon the favor of the Spirits and stir the pot correctly. Everything else they did by themselves, they shine so brightly.”

Zhamir’s heart and chest swelled his pride. “They are your daughters, are they not? Beautiful as their mother and perhaps more cunning?” He chuckled. “As for our part, nothing grand happened. We strolled through the town, met up with Princess Twilight, and came back with a signed migration treaty. It is finally happening, my love. After years of planning, Zebrica shall finally embrace the world and share what we have to offer.”

They nuzzled once more and Zhamir took the chance to kiss his sleeping daughter. “Our sons and daughters shall see a new world, my love, and I’m confident that they, along with the rest of our families, will guide Zebrica to a new and brighter tomorrow. In fact, I already saw the blooming love between Zhymur and a cute pony filly during our trip.”

Zecora giggled. “It seems love is in bloom and the tiny seeds have been planted. May they grow into grand trees, such as out love, Zhamir.”

“Our lives have changed so much it’s almost scary to think about it, but everything has changed for the best, my dearest love. My Zainabu, my Zecora. I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.”

The married couple kissed passionately for several moments until they broke due to lack of air, abridge of spit still binding them together for a few extra seconds. Their unions transmitting every ounce of happiness they were feeling.

“Let’s go and play with our offspring, Zainabu,” he ordered.

Zecora obeyed and the two walked outside, the Shaman giddy and content with how her life had turned out to be and safe in the knowledge that things were as they were supposed to be.

The End.

Author's Note

Special thanks to anyone that read this!