‘Moto kama joka joto pumzi…’
Fire.
The most unpredictable force of nature known to pony kind. It could give them warmth and a sense of coziness when tamed, as well as devour their lives and settlements when wild.
‘…maji baridi ambayo kuchochea kifo…’
Water.
The most predictable force of nature known to pony kind. It was so calm and peaceful, merely flowing into a direction set by a riverbed, or taking shape of a container it was poured into.
‘…na sufuria hii kuunganisha yao…’
Cauldron. The most reliable vessel to make those two opposite elements work together. Thanks to fervent flames, a potion inside was now chaotically bursting, bubbling and boiling, releasing a strong fragrance of moss around a small, tree-carved hut.
Zecora examined the cauldron. The mixture was slowly changing its color from green to almond, which meant it was high time to add some dried Tabernathe iboga leaves. The zebra took them from a nearby shelf and checked something in a book that Twilight Sparkle, the Ponyville librarian gave her last week. It said in Extranaturals – more natural remedies and cures that didn’t fit in the previous book that one must be extremely careful with this plant. If Zecora added too much of it, the potion would become addictive itself, if too little – it would not have any effect at all. Careful now…
‘Watch out!’, a sudden shout from outside the hut was heard.
Crash!
Door opened, or were rather slammed open by an orange pegasus filly riding on a small blue scooter. She drove inside, lost her balance and fell off, sending the vehicle over Zecora’s grey and white mane. The filly rolled into a wall decorated with colorful traditional masks, which resulted in a collapse of those, burying the pegasus.
All of that broke the zebra’s concentration and although she tried to save the potion, it turned from almond to tar-like black.
‘…ndani ya mchanganyiko kwa waliohukumiwa!’, she finished her incantations angrily, wringing hooves over the ruined mixture.
Oh, well. Yet another attempt of breaking Berry Punch of her drinking problem was failed.
Zecora turned towards the mess by the wall and facehoofed over the filly struggling to dig herself up.
‘Care to explain, little Scootaloo, why you wreak havoc in this room?’
The orange pegasus jumped out of the mess with a long, ornamented mask on her face. Ironically, the mask itself symbolized ‘innocence’, as in contrary to the filly’s recent accomplishment.
‘I came here to help!’, the filly replied with an enormous dose of enthusiasm, then looked around the hut. ‘Geez, it seems you have an awful mess in here Zecora…’
The zebra picked up the most terrifying mask she possessed and put in on.
‘To play with you I have no time!’, she shouted, scaring Scootaloo who jumped away. ‘And what you did here is a crime! Now be gone with you!’
The orange filly sighed. She took off the mask of innocence and hung it back on the wall.
‘I’m sorry…’, she said sadly. ‘It’s just that Rarity took Sweetie Belle to Canterlot for some fancy shopping and Apple Bloom is visiting her relatives in Manehattan…’
The zebra herbalist understood.
Scootaloo was just bored and lonely, and Zecora knew the feeling of loneliness pretty well. For quite a long time she was rejected by residents of Ponyville and although it was much better now, she was still the only zebra around. But that terrible mess! Well, she could clean it up later. For now, kindness in her heart won over the sorrow caused by the ruined potion.
She took off the scary mask.
‘Tell me, Scootaloo,’, Zecora said softly. ‘Would you like to help gather ingredients for my brew?’
‘Would I!?’, the filly replied, quickly flapping her wings, not to ascend but rather show her excitement. ‘Sure, I can help! Let me just take my scooter and…’
‘No!’, the zebra stated firmly. Living on the outskirts of civilization might make her unfamiliar with toys of today’s kids, but she could certainly tell a doomsday device when she saw one. Scootaloo obediently nodded, turned around and trotted to the front door.
Zecora took her ingredients sacs and headed outside as well.
And so they went. Zecora, the talented herbalist and sage who saved Twilight Sparkle and her friends from Poison Joke, had a great impact on Ponyville’s Spa cosmetic treatments and was able to distinguish hundreds of plants and flowers, along with Scootaloo… just Scootaloo.
For the next hour or so they were wandering through the Everfree Forest. The orange filly didn’t feel safe in places like this, especially without her fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders around, but Zecora knew it well enough to serve as a guide and make sure they’re avoiding unnecessary danger stirring in the dark. It turned out that taking Scootaloo on this trip was an excellent idea, as she could easily crawl into burrows and other places Zecora couldn’t, thus helping gather rare underground plants and mushrooms. The pegasus’ small wings didn’t let her fly, but luckily there weren’t much herbs over the ground either.
‘There is one more weed we need to collect.’, Zecora said, realigning sacs on her back. ‘It grows in deep caves, if I am correct.’
‘Oh what’s the name of this strange plant,’, Scootaloo replied, trying to mimic the zebra’s rhyming habit. ‘Does it look or smells or tastes like… uhm… an ant?’
Zecora laughed.
‘Rumbling moss is one of its names,’ she said, stroking the filly’s mane. ‘It glows in the dark and easily burst into smoking flames.’
‘Let us go and find it right away! Because with each hour… uhm… with each our…’, the orange pegasus gave up. ‘Nope, I can’t do it. No rhyming cutie mark for me, I guess.’
‘You’re doing fine, kiddo.’, the zebra assured, turning Scootaloo’s frown upside down.
She knew where to go. There were probably two or three places in which she could find rumbling moss, an old, deserted mine being the closest one. After another quarter of an hour they reached their destination.
The ponies entered the mine. There were pieces of mining equipment scattered around, occasional overturned carts and railroad tracks leading deeper into tunnels.
‘It seems pretty abandoned to me.’, Scootaloo said. ‘Those carts are all rusty!’
‘I have no memory of this place.’, Zecora shook her head. ‘There was no mess before, which now I do face.’
Although wooden beams supporting the ceiling were still intact was here not so long ago and was either trying to find something or simply excelled in making mess. Mining picks and shovels used to be piled up near the entrance and were now lying just everywhere. Zecora didn’t like that.
‘Hey, look!’, Scootaloo shouted. ‘There are torches in that tunnel, we can go deeper!’
The zebra was just about to tell the pegasus that they should leave, but she had already dashed into the tunnel. Zecora trotted in her hoofsteps along the tracks.
‘Scootaloo! Come back here this instant!’, she yelled. ‘It’s not safe here, from exit this distant.’
The tunnel twisted left and right numerous times, finally to end with an another cave. It was colder in here and Zecora could hear the water dripping from the ceiling. She couldn’t tell if the cave was bigger than the entrance, because there weren’t any torches on the walls.
‘Zecora, here!’, shouted the voice from about the middle of the cave.
The zebra went further, into a pitch-black darkness, bumping into an iron mining cart on the occasion. She trotted few meters more so she could see Scootaloo’s grayish purple eyes staring at a rock. She turned it over to reveal a bottom covered with a green, glowing moss.
‘We did it!’, said the orange pegasus, joyfully jumping around the rock.
‘Yes, you did!’, an unknown voice shouted. ‘You did fell into our trap!’
Zecora sighed. Couldn’t it be any more obvious? Why else would that trail of torches end so suddenly?
Something grabbed Zecora and Scootaloo, immobilizing them. There was a sound of lighting a match and a small flash in the distance.
‘We’re so happy that you here!’, the voice became louder as the dark figure was coming closer. With its each step it was getting brighter, as the ambushers were lighting more torches. When all torches were finally lit, the creature stood in front of the ponies in all its… glory?
He resembled a dog, standing straight in his back paws. He was wearing a long, purple coat with an indentation for the hump. The creature was holding a short cane with a ruby jewel in it and had a giant hat, probably made of a mining cart’s wheel.
‘Oh, Diamond Dogs.’, Scootaloo frowned. ‘This is going to be so great.’
‘Behold me, Bowie the shaman!’, he said with a caricature of dignity, gesturing with his paw.
Zecora stood unimpressed. The shaman gestured again, waiting for the zebra’s approval. There was none, so he extended his paw once more. No reaction. The other dogs, in a number of about ten started whispering and scratching their heads in ponder. They formed a circle around the ponies and the shaman.
‘Maybe she’s sleeping?’, said one of the dogs, big one with a green vest and a colander on his head. ‘I want sleep, too.’
‘Silence!’, Bowie shouted. ‘No sleeping! Pony! You hear me?’
‘She does, duh,’, Scootaloo rolled her eyes. ‘But she doesn’t want to speak to you, you dumb…’
‘Striped pony!’, he said, interrupting the filly. ‘Why you no teach your whelps to stay silent while bog dogs talking?’
‘I value those who have something to say,’, Zecora replied with grace. ‘But what do you want from us, anyway?’
‘Oh, oh!’, said the big one, raising his paw. ‘We want slaves!’
‘No! Bad word, bad dog!’, the shaman hit him with the cane, then smiled insincerely. ‘We are searching for… employees willing to help us with our mining operation.’
‘But not like the last one,’, said another dog in the circle. ‘One that whined and complained about work conditions…’
‘Shut up!’, Bowie screamed at the dog. ‘No one’s complaining! We are happy company!’
‘No we’re not…’, said the big dog. Shaman turned towards him and was just about to disparage him when Zecora cut in.
‘We are currently not on a job hunt,’, she said, pointing at the rock lying at her hooves. ‘We just want that moss that grows around.’
Bowie blinked twice. Every sentient being in Equestria would respond after that time, but Diamond Dogs weren’t exactly the sharpest tools in a shed. So he blinked two more times.
‘Haha! Striped pony speaks in riddles!’, he said with renewed interest, proud of himself for guessing it right. ‘Ponies like riddles, yes? We will play a game of riddles with the ponies. You win, we help you gather your plants.’
‘And if we lose?’
‘You will sign a contract for working in mine mine!’
The crowd of dogs laughed, or rather growled at the shaman’s pun. The one with the colander on his head started laughing few seconds later, naturally.
‘Game of riddles we shall play with you.’, Zecora said. ‘State your rules, fools!’
Diamond Dogs stuck their torches in the ground and sat near their leader to cheer for him. The ponies sat on the opposite side of the moss-covered rock.
It has been agreed that two uneven teams – a pair of ponies against the bunch of intellectually impaired Diamond Dogs – will take turns to guess each other’s riddles. The game would continue until one of the sides fails to provide an answer. Of course, there had to be a time limit. The water dripping of one of the stalactites had fairly regular intervals, so it has been decided that ten drops were enough.
Diamond Dogs, as ‘hosts’ of the place were first to go. Bowie the shaman cleared his throat.
What is a pet with fur black as night,
That seems to be so scared of light,
And although he has so little strength,
He can dig tunnels of amazing length.
Zecora giggled. The dogs’ knowledge about the world was limited to things they had already encountered in their underground dwellings. The shaman was probably hoping that the ponies were uneducated and would lack knowledge about what lived beneath the surface.
‘A fine riddle for warm-up, but easy as a whole,’, the zebra said. ‘Because the answer is simple: a mole.’
The crowd muttered, disappointed that the pony team had guessed the first riddle so easily.
It was now Zecora’s time to shine. She wondered what Diamond Dogs might have never, or at least very rarely, seen in their lives.
Bigger than peanut, elephant or kettle,
It has the surface like silvery metal,
And every month it will grow and then fade,
Revealing its part, leaving rest in the shade.
While Bowie was pondering upon the charade, the colander wearing dog had a struck of sudden clarity, or at least he thought he had.
‘The elephant is bigger than the kettle and the peanut!’ , he said, proud of his unquestioned intellectual domination over the riddle.
‘Say what?’, Scootaloo replied with a question. ‘Is that your answer or what?’
‘No, no!’, Bowie objected, then whispered conspiratorially. ‘Ponies do know he’s… different, right? He is bad at games. Mother’s fault. Rough puppyhood, yes. When he was…’
‘To hear the story we do not desire,’, Zecora interrupted, shaking her head. ‘Provide an answer or find someone else to hire!’
The shaman squeaked and pulled his ears in desperation. Time was almost up, a seventh drop just fell of the stalactite. Eighth…
‘Moon!’, he shouted. ‘Moon, moon, moon! When you look at it every night it’s getting bigger and then smaller!’
The answer was right, so the crowd applauded.
‘And I always thought it was getting smaller and after that bigger…’, said some dog in the audience.
‘My turn now!’
Head of a rooster, wings of a drake,
Stare of your ex-friend, tail of a snake,
But when you see it, you better be gone,
Cause it will turn flesh into a cold stone.
Zecora knew the answer, but Scootaloo was faster.
‘Easy!’, she said. ‘It’s cockatrice. Cutie Mark Crusaders had encountered one when searching for Fluttershy’s missing chicken!’
The crowd booed them, but Bowie gestured them to be quiet. The game was still on and it was now the ponies’ time to present a riddle.
Zecora opened her mouth, ready to rhyme.
‘Wait!’, said the shaman, baring his teeth. ‘We know the striped pony can do riddles. But what about the little one?’, he pointed towards Scootaloo. ‘Can you? If you cannot, the game is over and you lose!’
Diamond Dogs cheered for that unexpected change of rules.
‘Small one talks! Small one talks!’, they started shouting.
Scootaloo moved closer to Zecora. She was unsure whether or not she could manage to form a witty riddle, and neither was the zebra.
‘…about her… poem…’, she whispered in the herbalist’s ear. ‘Does it count as a riddle?’
‘It certainly does, kiddo.’
The orange filly stepped forward and the shouting ceased.
Do you know the queen that through the sky races,
At all time she’s wearing her seven faces,
Since it is hard to reach her or meet,
Having her seen makes your life complete.
Seconds have passed. Sixth drop, seventh drop.
The tension was palpable, as was Bowie’s and the rest of the Diamond Dogs confusion. When the shaman had realized he didn’t know the answer…
Eight drop.
…he became upset that he lost to a little orange pegasus! There was no way he could win this round.
Ninth drop.
Unless…
‘Grab the ponies!’, he commanded, pointing with his cane. ‘Game is over, but ponies are still going to work for us!’
The dogs were rather slow to react, as the recent intellectual effort of listening and analyzing the riddles made them dizzy.
‘We beat you fair and square!’, Scootaloo protested. ‘We followed your stupid rules!’
Zecora had expected that course of action. She had tried to think of a backup plan, but creating riddles took most of her time. There was one thing she could do, but she needed a distraction, and Diamond Dogs were getting closer.
‘Wait!’, Scootaloo said, to which the crowd actually stopped. ‘Don’t you at least want to know the answer?’
That was it, an opportunity to escape! Although the shaman was shouting to seize the ponies, the dogs started scratching their heads and ultimately agreed on the orange pegasus’ offer.
‘It might be easy for you to find out!’, Zecora said. ‘As all you need is to look behind!’
Every single Diamond Dog, including Bowie the shaman turned around and stared blankly at the back of the cave. Zecora grabbed the nearest torch and tossed it onto the turned over rock, setting the rumbling moss cluster on fire.
‘Scootaloo, to the cart we run!’
Before they could even react, the dogs were coughing due to the insane amount of white smoke the fire had created. The ponies ran towards the mining cart, pushed it a little and jumped onto it. With their momentum added to the cart’s, they drove alongside the railroad to the exit of the mine, and galloped away, leaving the howling dogs behind.
They didn’t stop until they reached the edge of the Everfree Forest.
‘Well, that was… fun, Zecora,’, Scootaloo said, sitting in the ground and breathing heavily. ‘I’m sorry we didn’t… we didn’t get that rumbling… moss you need.’
The zebra herbalist looked at her sacs.
‘I have more plants than I need. And your company was appreciated, kid.’
‘Thanks! Maybe we’ll drop by with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle next week to help you with something!’, the orange pegasi stood up, as if she wasn’t tired anymore. ‘See you!’
Zecora sat down stunned. She realized that there was the terrible mess back in her hut caused by that one filly. Better not to think what would happened if trio of them had come by. She laughed and shouted to Scootaloo.
‘Your poem, by the way, is great, to read it to her you should not hesitate!’
The flightless pegasus turned around and shook her head, denying that idea.
Zecora stood up and walked back to her hut. All in all, it was a good day.
Scootaloo galloped towards Ponyville, stopping halfway and changing the direction. She made up her mind and headed to a cloud mansion of a certain cyan coated pegasus…
Author's Note
Thanks for reading!
