The World Zolt Lives In

Cold.

The world was cold.

Nopony was there for her — it was impossible to make friends ever since things changed, and her parents and teachers never believed a word she said either. She could never figure out how to make ponies like her. Or how to like them in return. Would she have to cast some kind of magic spell and force it to happen?

Everybody was cold, pony or otherwise. The looks they would give her, the way they would address her by cruel names… Cold. Ever since her world had shifted, the looks ponies gave her had so noticeably changed. Adoration, care, love… all had melted unrecognizably away from anypony she’d known. Their faces made no sense. The few times she managed to muster up the courage to look at another pony, their expressions were so hard to decipher. She couldn’t understand why they looked at her like that, every single one of them. How did they all know, before even speaking a word to her, that they wanted nothing to do with her? Had everypony unanimously decided that she was some kind of diseased mongrel?

Pain flashed through her memory in broken, fuzzy snippets. Needles in her legs, bruises and cuts on her thighs where her cutie mark served as a constant reminder of her affliction, her own tear-stained face in the mirror. The flashes disappeared as quickly as they had come, leaving behind only the faint sensation of gripping sadness and unease. She could barely think. She tried hard to hold onto the memories, to see them clearer, but static was gunking up her mind.

And now, to top everything off, her body was suddenly so cold. It felt like she was encased solid; had she become like those trees, cocooned in ice? Those trees… the blizzard. There was a blizzard, and... was this what death felt like? Did death even have a feeling…?

But she was thinking now.

She knew that she was, because she was aware of just how freezing she felt. She hadn’t been aware of anything until now… not for a while. At least, it felt like a while. Walking on top of that strangely-intact snow, looking around at the icy woods; it felt like weeks had passed since then.

So … finally decided to wake up, did you? Thought you were going to rot for a little while there. You’re so lucky, Zolt, aren’t you?

Zolt tried to stir, uncomfortable, as the voice spoke to her. She knew what that voice was. She couldn’t quite move her thawing body enough to shift around yet, and even if she could, it wouldn’t have helped. No matter how much she jostled herself or turned away or ran, it wouldn’t have mattered. There wasn’t any escaping it.

I kept you alive for all those weeks! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be able to think at all. Maybe you should thank me for once.

Alive… I’m alive?

Suddenly, heat. It didn’t feel like burning, but it was overwhelming and panic-inducing how quickly it came. One moment, Zolt had barely been able to think straight, let alone feel a thing at all, and the next, the bursting sensation of warmth flooded through her from her throat to her stomach, then slowly to her limbs.

You should be thanking me.

It was getting quieter. The voice was fading away. She knew it wasn’t permanent relief, but it was relief nonetheless. Further and further away that wicked scowl drifted, until it couldn’t be distinctly heard anymore.

She tried again to move, this time finding more success. She was finally able to distinguish her body parts from one another: hooves, head, neck, body…

A small sound caught in her throat. Her head was tilted uncomfortably and she suddenly became aware of thick, hot liquid in her esophagus. She tried not to panic or choke, instead drinking the mysterious substance that was being administered to her with as much calmness as a young filly in such a situation could muster.

She knew by now to not fight when she felt so uncomfortable.

The moment she was able to, she opened her eyes. She was in a warm room, laying in a bed with thick brown blankets draped over her. A round potion bottle was being held up to her lips by a familiar mare, now empty. The walls of the room were reddish-brown, almost brick-like in color. There was a stone fireplace to her left, housing a sputtering flame.

“N- Nnnnnnn…” Zolt tried to speak, but found it infuriatingly difficult.

“Do not try to speak, my dear. It will not work, and you will waste energy trying.”

How could she have forgotten Norai?

Back in Gardenia… Back home, Norai lived alone in a large cottage. She was known to be the goddess of Potions and Brewing, but few revered her as an actual deity. Few ponies outside of the state knew who she was at all and to those that did know her, she was simply the local sorceress. Despite lacking a horn, she was very skilled in magic, and Zolt had, for better or for worse, met her on several occasions. Zolt, after another gurgling attempt to speak, finally nodded, accepting her own silence. She leaned back in her bed, completely trusting Norai’s words. It was hard to relax completely, though; there were still so many questions coursing through her.

“I will try my best to explain, answering your unspoken questions. You were found… in the snow… during a serious blizzard. I know the mare that discovered you, and she called me to ask for assistance. I… rushed over as soon as I could.” She spoke much slower at times — while emotional distress flickered across her face — but otherwise there was no indication that this was anything other than an average day for her.

Zolt’s mane was messy, much messier than normal. It covered her right eye like she always preferred, but it also sat uncomfortably on her neck and shoulder. She tried to fix it, but her hooves hurt badly to move, as though she had slept on them really wrong. She slowly moved her head to the side, trying to see more of the room, but jumped when she saw that she was being stared at by two big green eyes. There was a small colt just about her age sitting at the foot of the bed a few feet away from her. He was sitting on top of the blankets, dead silent, facing her directly and maintaining a constant stare. Norai, invested in her relaying of information, didn’t notice Zolt’s fright and continued speaking.

“Your parents… have been worried about you, so I told them you have been found and that you are okay. Well… I lied and told them that you are okay. I did not know at the time that you would be...

“…

“…But, no matter, you are alright now.

“You have been asleep for three days. We have been trying very hard to keep you warm, but the Elixir of Sunrise takes a while to brew. I-if we hadn’t managed to…”

Norai looked back at Zolt, who was now nervously glancing around at every part of the room except the colt whose eyes were still locked on her: the large TV screen on the wall directly in front of her, filling her with dread, the large desk-n’-mirror to her right, even the small black trash can near the only door in the room (which was also to her right). Zolt felt awkward with how much emotion Norai seemed to be expressing. In all the time she had known Norai, Norai had never stammered or had much trouble getting her words out at all — it emphasized how serious this all was. Even if Zolt could speak, she didn’t quite know what she would have said. It hurt her to know that she had caused Norai so much stress.

“I should not overload you with information. I suppose … this, along with many other things, will be much easier once you regain the ability to speak.”

Zolt’s eyes darted back to Norai, as though to ask, ‘When will I regain the ability to speak?’

“In about two hours’ time, your body should be more capable of holding its heat. The elixir will start to wear off and you will redevelop the ability to speak over the following hour or so. However, there is a chance that you will begin to freeze again once the elixir wears off. If this happens, the elixir will be re-administered to you and you will have to wait another two hours.”

Zolt slumped a little. She wanted to explain herself, to apologize for being so much trouble, but she couldn’t.

“I should be going now, but first, this colt here is named Bandicoot, but I believe he prefers to go by… ‘Bandi’…? And, Bandi, this mare is named Zolt.

“Bandi and his mother are the ones who found you, Zolt. He’s just a year older than you. You’ll be staying with them while you recover and get back on your hooves.” Norai gave Bandi a small, warm smile. He glanced at her, blinked, then nodded a little before resuming his deep stare at Zolt.

“Well, I will head off for now,” Norai sighed, straightening up and starting to head for the door. “I am very glad that you will recover just fine. I…” Norai paused, her hoof resting on the doorknob, ready to turn it and escape the emotion that was throwing her off-guard. She directed her gaze once more towards Zolt. “I do not know how you got so far away from home without collapsing. And, despite being one, I cannot fathom the graces of the Gods that have to come into play to keep you alive through that. But I have seen enough to understand that you had a valid reason to leave in such a sudden fashion. I believe that… here will be a better place for you… for the time being. If Ms. Sweet has any issues she needs my assistance with, she knows how to contact me.”

With those parting words, Norai was gone, and Zolt was left with his colt who didn’t know how to keep his eyes to himself — this ‘Bandicoot’.

There was a long silence. Then, finally, Bandicoot mumbled, “You can’t speak.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. Zolt narrowed her eyes in a glare. Was he making fun of her?

Zolt made another attempt to brush her mane away from her neck, and thankfully managed to do so. Bandicoot’s eyes locked onto the part of her mane that covered her eye. His expression was hard to read. It was hard to tell if he even had an expression. Or emotions.

“I don’t like talking to strangers. I don’t really like talking at all. I prefer to listen. Let other ponies talk to me, or around me. But you can’t do that. So I guess I have to do the talking. That feels weird. And I really don’t know how to do it.”

His voice had a strange sound to it. Was it an accent? A dialect? There was something about the way he spoke that seemed very different than what Zolt was used to, and it both intrigued and somewhat frightened her.

“When I found you, I had just gotten a squirrel for me and Mom to eat. But you’ve been out so long that all the food we got has already been eaten. My mom left an hour or two ago to get some more food. But… she told me to keep my eyes on you.”

Zolt glared back at Bandicoot. Was that why he was staring at her so intently…?

“Do I still have to keep my eyes on you even though you’re awake?” Bandi asked slowly.

Zolt shook her head firmly. Bandi immediately broke his gaze, choosing to look instead at the fire in the fireplace. Zolt let out a long breath she didn’t know she had been holding in.

“You haven’t eaten in days… Are you hungry?”

Zolt tried to think. Was she hungry…?

A sharp pang of hunger suddenly slammed into her stomach. She winced, wrapping her hooves around herself. Bandi looked back at her, seeing her nod. “O-oh, o-okay! Ummm… I’ll be right back. Don’t move. Don’t do anything!”

Bandi stumbled off of the bed and galloped out of the room.

Zolt stretched, pushing the blankets off of her. She flopped forward on the bed, faceplanting into the top of the mattress. It had been a long time since she had been on a proper bed, let alone with this much space. The mattress was comfortable.

When Zolt closed her eyes, she could see the small, scratchy, itchy bed from before. The last one she had slept in before running off.

It wasn’t at a house, let alone her own house — but a facility. Lots of ponies lived there. How many months had she been there before she had left…?

The bed there didn’t feel good.

Or… safe, even.

The hooves that would shake her awake weren’t her parents’. Half the time, they were ponies she’d never seen before at all.

Suddenly, she was being shaken again. Just like before. Did they need to take her blood again?

Zolt jolted up into a sitting position.

Bandi was sitting next to her, holding… branches. Branches coated in ice.

“You shouldn’t eat them too often, my Mom says, but since we don’t have anything else to eat, maybe they could tide you over?”

Branches?

Can ponies really eat those?