The Poison of Passion

Every day with Zecora is an interesting one. A few days ago, you stopped her home from being washed away in a flood. The day before that, you were dancing to her drumbeat and laughing alongside her. And the day before that, you met her for the first time, in line for some pepper seasoning.

It’s really no wonder you keep coming back to her.

By the time a week or so had passed, you’d learned to fly through the Everfree Forest quite proficiently, weaving in-between the trees until you reach her hut. There, you’d just give the lonely zebra company; something she’s always welcomed each and every visit.

Some days, she’d leave the Forest to meet you on the outskirts. From there, you’d just stroll around Ponyville together, visiting shops, ticking various supplies and ingredients off her list and greeting any friendly locals kind enough to throw a smile your way.

Listening to Zecora talk is fascinating. How the rhymes seem to roll of her tongue, a second nature to her, without her needing to pause for thought. Some days, you’d have to watch your tongue in case you made an accidental rhyme of your own. You’d never want to offend her. Never.

But one day, as she’s showing you the basics of alchemy over her cauldron, you let your curiosity get the better of you.

“And finally you add some blue-leaf petal, which cures any sting from wasp to nettle.” she turns away from the mixture with a triumphant smile, indicating the end of her handiwork, “Now leave the whole concoction to bubble, and it’s a simple wound-closing potion, no trouble.”

“Incredible.” you watch the strangely-coloured broth swirl in the cauldron, turning the surrounding air heavy with heat. You think about how best to bring up the subject of her speech, “Uh, hey Zecora? There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

“A question you say? Well then, ask away!”

This is a smart move, now that you think about it; there’s a whole cauldron of a minor healing potion right there in front of you, so if she hoofs you in the face for offending her speech, tradition and possibly race, you’ve got a quick fix! Hoorah for thinking ahead there.

“Why do you rhyme?”

There, that wasn’t so bad. When she inquisitively (and, although you’d never say it to her face, quite adorably) tilts her head to the side a little, you decide to elaborate.

“Do you rhyme your sentences naturally? Is it something you have to constantly think about?”

You were expecting her to pull an insulted expression, maybe with a hint of disgust for your blatant pointing out of her own habits. Instead, she simply exhibits a mutter of realisation in her native language before answering.

“Ah, of course, I see what you mean now; I forget about my speech more than I should allow.”

“You… forget?” That didn’t make sense to you. How could something like rhyming every sentence just slip your mind?

She nods, carefully handling a ladle with her hoof, and pouring the steaming potion into various bottles. “Zebrican speech has an enlightened philosophy, that explains itself quite modestly. You ponies occasionally break into song, during heightened emotions of right or wrong. Like in major events, without needing conduct you sing, so we zebras strive to make that a permanent thing.”

She begins to stack the latest batch of potions on a nearby shelf. She doesn’t object to you helping her.

“You mean whenever we ponies sing during, I dunno, Winter Wrap-Up or the Grand Galloping Gala, it’s because of the high emotions running at the time? And zebras learn to rhyme constantly to keep those emotions around?”

“That is about the gist of it, yes. A tradition that interests foreign guests.”

That… made a lot of sense, actually. It’s like their own language is a charm to bring happiness to them.

You stifle a sudden yawn that takes you by surprise. You’ve started to adjust to the Everfree Forest recently. At least, you can finally tell the difference between night and day under the forest’s all-cloaking branches. Mostly it’s a case of listening to the forest’s ambience - it becomes suspiciously quieter at night - and checking your own body clock to estimate the time that‘s past.

“Hey, have you got the time, Zecora? It’s going to be dark soon.”

“It’s quite late, as you can see. I’ll need to get up early. There’s a plant deeper in the forest I could use, and it would be a shameful thing to lose.”

“Really? What sort of plant?”

Zecora turns her eyes to the ceiling of her hut, as if trying to see the skies beyond it, “A rare tulip that only grows after a storm. And where lightning strikes, it grows and takes form. It looks as though it’s silver-suited, and its magical properties are undisputed.”

“It only grows after a storm, where lightning strikes? You mean the flash flood from a few days ago?”

“That’s precisely what I mean,” she confirms, “And it created a flower like you have never seen. Alone, it may be hard to recover, but I can’t leave such a thing undiscovered.”

You don’t even hesitate; “You’re not going alone though. Are you?”

She gives you a look you’ve never seen from her before. Almost like she’s torn between not letting you go with her, and accepting your company. It’s a face of uncertainty. That’s the first time you’ve seen Zecora, of all Equestrians, look genuinely unsure of something.

“I know you’re better at navigating the forest than I am,” you continue, before she decides to turn you down, “But what if you put yourself in danger? It’s a big forest out there, there’s probably things you’ve never seen before! If you’re hurt, who’s going to be around to help? I don’t want to spend all of tomorrow worrying when I could be helping somepony I… care about.”

Those last two words linger awkwardly over you both.

“If… if you really want to take the risk,” she slowly breaks the silence, “I’ll admit your company would be missed. It’s going to be a dangerous task, but I’d love somepony to have my back.”

“So we’re setting off tomorrow morning then?” you ask, “The both of us?”

“The both of us, yes, you are right.” As she steadily trots to her sleeping quarters, you may have seen a smile form on her lips. “I guess you’ll take the hammock tonight?”

“As always Zecora. Goodnight.”

********

Yeah, it sure is beautiful, isn’t it, Zecora? It’s almost as beautiful as you.

No. I mean it. You really are. Trust me when I say this, Zecora, I… I love-

What-? NO! ZECORA, GET BACK!

No. Oh gods no! Zecora, please wake up! I looked away for a second! And now this!?

Why aren’t you moving!? Why aren’t you… breathing?

What have I done!? Help! Somepony! Anypony!

Please… please wake up, Zecora… I’m sorry..! It’s all my fault!