It's Like Poetry or Something
It's Like Poetry or Something
“Up you go!”
Anon grins from ear to ear as he lifts the tiny zebra foal into his arms. She’s so small that he could easily hold her with one hand like an ice cream cone, but he’d rather play it safe when handling his infant daughter. For her part, the tiny striped baby giggles and wiggles her front legs, an innocent, excited smile on her face.
“Gah, I’ll never get used to how precious you are.”
Anon closes his eyes and brings his daughter closer, gently rubbing his nose against her own and coaxing a laugh out of the tiny foal. When he takes another look at her, he sees his own reflection in her big, bright, curious eyes – eyes that look just like his.
This is Zhara, and she’s only a couple of months old.
Anon has been with his marefriend, Zecora, for several years now. The two of them live a quiet, largely secluded life in the Everfree Forest. While neither are adverse to social interaction (and in fact welcome visitors and take frequent trips into the nearby Ponyville), they enjoy the relative privacy their quaint lifestyle provides them. Of course, with Zhara in the picture, it’s rare for a day to go by that one of their numerous pony friends doesn’t swing by to shower the baby with affection and care. It takes a village, Anon supposes. At least his daughter won’t go wanting when it comes to having a support network.
He places a quick smooch on Zhara’s nose, but before he can fully pull away, he feels a sharp pinch on one of his fingers. Somehow, Zhara has managed to wiggle around in his grasp enough to take a finger into her mouth. Her teeth came in quicker than he expected, but being a zebra, they aren’t very sharp. Still, she doesn’t quite know what restraint means yet, and that foal knows how to bite.
“Okay, that’s enough holding for right now.”
Gingerly placing Zhara down on a hoof-stitched quilt, Anon lets out a contented sigh. He reaches for a nearby shelf and grabs a small stick. On the end of this stick, a long line of string is carefully secured via a tiny hole, and at the end of the string, there is a little stuffed alicorn. It’s Zhara’s favorite toy, even if it is a bit rudimentary. Chuckling to himself, he dangles the stuffed end of the toy above Zhara’s head, causing her to squeal and paw at it with her itty bitty hooves. She’s far from coordinated, but every time she manages to smack the little alicorn her eyes become even more transfixed on the toy.
Anon can’t help but mentally compare her to a little kitten. Just as cute, too.
The little mare’s playtime is interrupted by the sound of the hut’s wooden door being awkwardly forced open. Anon turns to see none other than the hut’s third and final resident, Zecora, shuffling inside. She has a saddlebag draped over her back that looks extremely overstuffed, and on top of that, she’s manually carrying a small assortment of glass jars, each one filled with various herbs and other items foraged from the Everfree.
“Wow, that’s a lot more than I was expecting.”
“I told you that we need to be prepared, but I feel that this burden would be b-better shared.”
Zecora struggles to speak clearly as the weight finally starts to get to her. Scooping Zhara back up under one arm, Anon quickly gets to his feet and takes some of the jars to ease his marefriend’s burden. She lets out a sigh of relief as she uses her newly freed hooves to remove her saddlebag and places it onto a nearby table. Anon follows suit, and after a few quick moments spent sorting the many containers, he looks down at the sizable collection of what he knows to be potion ingredients.
“Seriously, this is a lot. Are you sure we need all of this? I thought you just wanted to make some ointments.”
“While I was out on my leisurely stroll, I ended up losing sight of my original goal. When I found this magiroot on the forest floor, I realized I could accomplish so much more. Ointments and oils are a zebra tradition, but some potions for health will make a fine addition.”
“Potions?!”
“You sound surprised, my dearest Anon. Is this something you feel shouldn’t be done?”
“L-look, Zecora. I know you’re a lot more knowledgeable than me on potions and the like, and I’m not one to question the traditions of your culture. I-I just don’t know how I feel about making our infant daughter drink a potion. Shouldn’t we wait until she’s older for that?”
“I’m trying to do what any mother would. You know as well as I that my potions can do good. This has nothing to do with zebra spirituality. I simply want to be prepared for any eventuality.”
“I want what’s best for her, too. I just think that the best thing for her right now is to just… let nature run its course. I mean, look at her!” Anon holds out their little daughter. Zhara squirms a bit, clearly wanting to be handed off to her mother. He obliges, and Zecora somewhat greedily takes the foal into her own embrace. “She’s doing just fine so far. So… maybe we can hold off on the liquid magic for a while?”
Zecora looks directly into Anon’s eyes for a long, quiet moment. The corner of her mouth twitches as she struggles to juggle the worry in her heart and the reassurance of her beloved partner. Eventually, her eyes close and she lets out a deep, resolute sigh.
“I’m glad you’ve taken your role as a father in stride. When I think of my duties as Zhara’s mother, I feel… terrified.”
“Hey, hey.” Anon closes the gap between himself and his marefriend. Kneeling down, he wraps an arm around her neck to pull both her and Zhara in close. “Being worried about your daughter doesn’t make you a bad mom, Zecora.”
“I want to believe that your words are true, but when I imagine Zhara getting hurt, I-I don’t know what to do!”
“Do what you can.” Anon’s voice is warm and comforting. It’s a quiet whisper, adding to the cozy, calm atmosphere in the hut. Not letting go of her, Anon leans forward to plant a kiss on Zecora’s forehead. “We’ll keep doing our best, okay? When you feel like you’re faltering, I’ll be there to help you. And I know you’ll do the same for me.” Anon repeats the same motion as before, but this time the kiss is placed on Zhara’s tiny head. Her short, bristle-like mane is only barely starting to come in, and it’s adorable. “She’ll be okay.”
Zecora takes a moment to steady her breathing, which she hadn’t even realized had grown shaky. She’s known for being quiet, methodical, and above all, wise. Ponies of all shapes and sizes come to her for advice and knowledge. She prides herself on her worldly experience and on the caring, albeit somewhat aloof image she’s built for herself. And yet, when it comes to Zhara, she cannot maintain the facade. No amount of experience could have ever prepared her for motherhood, and now that she’s here, there’s nothing she wants more than for Zhara to grow up happy and healthy. The fact that it falls onto the shoulders of herself and Anon to help her daughter do that is nothing short of terrifying.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the sudden sound of a whimper. She looks down at her mewling daughter just in time to watch her begin to fuss. It’s not an outright cry – Zhara is a shockingly quiet filly – but it’s a clear sign of displeasure. If there’s one thing Zecora does know for sure, it’s what that fussing means.
“I think someone’s hungry,” Anon chuckles.
Indeed, sometimes Zecora wonders if Zhara’s stomach might be bottomless. Still, an insatiable appetite is much preferable to no appetite. She prepares to make herself more comfortable, but is interrupted by Anon gently lifting her off of her hooves. With both of the most important ladies in his life being held delicately in his arms, Anon laughs as he carries them to a nearby sofa. In truth, the sofa looks out of place in the zebra’s tree-turned-home, but it felt fitting after Anon moved in with her.
Besides, she likes to lean on him.
Speaking of, Zecora rolls her eyes with a grin on her face as Anon sets her down next to him. She rests her head against his chest while she lays down on her side, helping Zhara get comfortable along the way. Even if her mind doesn’t feel ready to be a mother, her body most certainly is.
For some time, the three of them simply remain like that, each one comfortable and content for their own reasons. At some point, Anon leans down to plant another kiss on Zecora’s head, but she interrupts him by turning towards him. As a result, the two of them lock lips, and Zecora chuckles into his mouth at the sight of her plan working perfectly. Anon has no complaints, and the two hold the kiss until both of them lose track of time.
Or at least until Zecora winces and twitches at the feeling of Zhara giving her a sudden bite. She doesn’t hesitate to remove the eager infant from her position underneath her, choosing instead to hold her close to her chest. Neither she nor Anon say a word, deciding to instead sit in relative silence and watch their baby get comfortable against Zecora. She lightly taps her back, and the tiny zebra lets out an equally tiny burp. Then, after a few more moments, Zhara’s curious eyes finally close as she drifts off to a comfortable sleep in her mother’s embrace.
“I think we’re doing just fine,” Anon whispers as he begins to run his hand along Zecora’s back in long, loving strokes.
“I doubt that my worries will ever fully cease, but at times like these, I feel relative peace.” She turns to look up at him, matching his warm smile as he looks right back. “I don’t think there’s anywhere that I’d rather be. Thank you, my love, for staying here with me.”
“I love you too, Zecora.”
The two share one more long, loving kiss. When they finally pull away, Zecora rests her head fully underneath Anon’s arm as he holds her tight. Meanwhile, Anon leans his head back to rest it against the sofa itself. Within seconds, all three of them have drifted off to sleep in each other’s embrace. And despite their fears, deep in each of their hearts, they know that they’re going to be okay.
Author's Note
Zecora is still really hard to write. 
As always, I appreciate any and all feedback!
