Black and White and Red All Over

Chapters

There and Back Again
Cherchez la Mare
Deep in the Everfree
Quest's End
Epilogue: The Half-aversary

There and Back Again

It was mid-morning when the visitor trotted into Ponyville.

Her appearance was striking, even compared to the citizens of the town with their brightly-colored coats and manes. Her coat was a very light grey with black stripes on her legs, tail and mohawk-like mane. A large jagged pattern of black ran down her spine and halfway down her barrel, dark grey sun-like whorls were set upon her flanks and her muzzle was squared off as opposed to having the dainty rounding of most mares.

A series of golden rings encircled her neck from her collarbone to her jaw and another similar set were worn in the middle of her left foreleg. A large golden hoop hanging from each ear completed the exotic picture.

Her name was Zecora.

A small group of the daily crowd had stopped going about their routines — shopping, visiting friends and such — and were staring openly at her. She was still a source of curiosity for many, and her infrequent visits merely fueled that.

Zecora stared right back at the group, her almond-shaped blue eyes slowly narrowing as she muttered something under her breath.

The populace of Ponyville often shocked her with their disrespect; it wasn’t as if she were a stranger to the town any more. In her homeland of the Marengeti, the zebrafolk (who were her folk not all that many years ago) wouldn’t crowd together and stare at a newcomer as these ponies did. They would greet the stranger openly and invite them into their village, as opposed to hiding away or treating them like a curiosity. The ponies of this town were a pleasant enough group, all told, but their manners often left something to be desired.

She considered just pushing her way through the crowd and continuing on into Ponyville, but this would be repaying rudeness with rudeness and she wasn't going to be that petty. Some of the townsponies were still somewhat skittish around her as well, and she didn't want to risk making them afraid of her again; it had been hard enough getting them to accept her at it was, even with the help of Twilight and the others. She had something important to say to her friends, something they needed to hear before she left. No doubt one of them would notice the crowd and come to greet her.

Until then, she would simply wait.

She would wait stoically.

She would wait quietly.

She would wait patiently.

But even her patience had limits.

The quill broke in two with the tiniest of cracks.

"Oh darn it!"

Twilight frowned, looked down at the snapped quill on her writing desk and grumbled. A cursory search produced no further quills; she'd have to put her work on hold to get more. She hated putting work on hold, especially when she was deep into a project. This sort of thing always seemed to happen at the worst possible time.

She sighed and turned to the library door, gathering up a small pouch on the way and checking the contents to make sure she had enough bits on hoof. Seems my quills are breaking sooner every day. It's gotten to the point where Davenport's offering me a discount for buying in bulk. I don't mind so much, but I wish he'd stop trying to sell me a lounger every time I make a visit...

Emerging from her library, Twilight heard a faint murmuring sound. Curious, she turned to look for the source. She saw the small crowd that had formed, and trotted up to see what all the fuss was about. Upon reaching the grouped ponies, she saw Zecora standing before them, regarding the throng with a sullen look upon her face which was becoming noticeable darker by the moment.

Twilight approached, shooing away the gawping ponies with both nudges and glares as she passed them. Zecora's foul temper dissipated quickly upon seeing Twilight move through the crowd, the zebra's frown transforming into a relieved smile. As Twilight stopped in front of Zecora, she noted that the shamaness wasn't wearing the medicine bag she stored her purchases in. She clearly wasn't here on business. Twilight's eyes widened slightly.

That was certainly new.

“I'm sorry about them, Zecora," said Twilight. "They really should know better," she added, raising her voice slightly in admonishment. One or two of the stragglers hung their heads as they left. "It's good to see you again — a purely social call is new for you; we usually come visit you ."

Twilight gave Zecora a smile. "If you'd like, I could brew us a pot of coffee back at my library. Rarity introduced me to a new roast a short while ago and it's quite nice. Then we could all get together and we..."

Zecora raised a forehoof and politely declined Twilight's offer.

“Apologies, Twilight Sparkle, but I've not come to play. I have something else planned out for this day. A thought had struck me, one that can't be ignored: of my hut I grow tired, of my forest I'm bored. I wish to travel about and see what is there, to leave Everfree Forest, to ‘get some fresh air’. I came to tell you of my wish to roam, for if you come visit, I'll not be at home.”

Twilight looked surprised and then pleased at the zebra's new outgoing attitude; it was one thing to simply make a social call, but this was something entirely different, especially for Zecora. “That's a great idea, Zecora. It’ll be nice for you to get out and see the world beyond your forest and here.”

“I’ll say!” came a voice from above. “All you ever do is hang out in your hut day in and day out makin’ potions and stuff! Booor-ing!”

Rainbow Dash peered down at the two from a small pegasus-sized cloud overhead; the noise of the crowd had woken her from her morning snooze and tanning session. Too curious to fall back asleep, she'd been listening in from above until deciding to give her two bits worth. "I mean come on...If I hadta choose between that an' chewin' my own wings off..."

Twilight looked up at her. “Come on, Rainbow, you should be happy for Zecora; this is something completely new for her. And you don't need to go casting aspersions; she 'hangs out in her hut day in and day out making potions and stuff' because she enjoys doing it."

Rainbow blinked. "Castin' whozit, now?"

"Making fun of her," replied Twilight with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

“Aw, Twilight; all I meant was...”

Twilight turned back to the zebra. “Don't mind her, Zecora. Sometimes she has a tendency to say what she’s thinking before she thinks about what she’s saying.”

"Oh, I don't gotta take this..." muttered Rainbow. She snapped her wings open, blew a raspberry at Twilight and flew off to find a new snoozing spot, dragging her cloud behind her like a deck chair.

Twilight shook her head at the departing pegasus and sighed before returning her attention to Zecora. “ Anyway, I hope you have fun on your trip: a change of scenery can really open your eyes. It certainly had for me when I moved here from Canterlot. ”

“And when you get back, we can have a great big 'Coming Out' party for you!" shouted a cheerful voice from behind her. Twilight's ears shot straight up, she let out a yelp and jumped up nearly three inches. She turned and glowered behind her. A massive, messily-curled mop of a mane confronted her, the neon-pink explosion of hair crowning the head of a mare with a coat that was only slighy less pink than her mane.

Pinkie Pie, who was gleefully oblivious to the fact that she had probably scared a year off of poor Twilight's life, giggled at the two. She was wearing an apron and a baker’s hat, each of which had dollops of frosting on them. The warmth of the clear summer day was softening the icing, and it was slowly beginning to ooze off.

She had somehow learned of Zecora’s arrival, despite nopony having told her, and had raced from Sugarcube Corner, clearly while in the middle of baking something.

Pinkie frowned for a moment. "Wait, no...that kind of party is for something entirely...excuse me just a sec..."

A small dab of icing had dropped from her hat, landing on the tip of her muzzle with a tiny 'splat'. Her eyes crossed momentarily and she snapped her head back absentmindedly, catching the glob of icing on the tip of her tongue and swallowing before returning to the conversation. "...something entirely different. Maybe a 'Coming Out Of The Everfree Forest to Explore Beyond Ponyville For The First Time Ever' party?"

Zecora blinked, nonplussed at Pinkie's reflexive display of icing disposal.

"Yeah! We can call it a 'C.O.O.T.E.F.T.E.B.P.F.T.F.T.E' party!" exclaimed Pinkie, quickly warming to her idea.

Zecora blinked again.

"Well okay, so the name 'C.O.O.T.E.F.T.E.B.P.F.T.F.T.E' is obviously a W.I.P..."

Saying nothing, Zecora headed back to the entrance to Ponyville and the path beyond. She turned to bid farewell to them.

“Kwa heri, Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie, my friends. Here my journey begins, when I return, here it ends.”

She then turned back to leave. Just as she was exiting the town, her sharp ears picked up an exchange between the two:

"Well, at least you didn't sing a hello song when she arrived, Pinkie..."

"Of course not, silly. I already know her!"

Zecora chuckled under her breath and continued on.

Zecora made her way down the trail from Ponyville to her forest until she reached the first of the paths that branched off from the main route, which she took for no other reason than that. The path she was on was soon bordered on both sides by pure white fences, the whiteness of the paint accentuating the grass and making it seem an even brighter shade of green.

She had never traveled down any of the side paths before today; she'd never needed to. The only place she had explored to any great detail was Everfree, and that was primarily out of necessity; she needed to know where to find herbs and food for herself.

Now that she'd decided to take another path, she saw how much she had missed by not choosing to do so before today. If not for her sudden burst of wanderlust, this would likely still be unknown to her.

Most of the fenced areas were farmland of one sort or another, tended by earth ponies who were either tilling the fields, planting seeds or harvesting their crops. Almost all of them had a greeting for her, which she returned. Every bit of land here seemed to serve a purpose, practically none of it being wasted

There were many patches of wild flowers along the path, in color combinations similar to many of the ponies back in the town. She saw Cheerilee in one patch, Rarity in another and young Scootaloo in a third. She heard a buzzing sound and a small metallic-green bird, its wings almost invisible from the speed they were flapping, zipped past her and headed for a flower. Hummingbirds were a very rare sight in her forest and she’d never seen one this close up before.

The sun was bright and warm as always, but seemed brighter somehow, perhaps affected by the whiteness of the picket fences in much the same way the grass had been. She heard roosters crowing in the distance, the chirpings, callings and chitterings of birds and various forest creatures not found in Everfree and the lowing of farm animals.

Eventually the sweet smell of apples caught her attention above all else. Finding herself more than a bit hungry, which was only strengthened by the smell, she followed her nose, soon passing a billboard which welcomed the reader to Sweet Apple Acres. She came to a sudden halt, spellbound at what lay before her: Sweet Apple Acres' prize apple orchard.

Orchard was too small a word to describe what she saw. It was practically a forest. Just the trees nearest her held more apples than she could count in a dozen days. The distant treetops were practically red with them.

An orange-coated mare, blonde-maned and wearing a brown and well-weathed stetson, was working through the trees, stopping at each and bucking it with a hearty 'CRACK!' As the apples of the current tree fell into a waiting bucket, she took a short breather, pushing her hat back and wiping the sweat from her brow. Looking over past the fence, she saw Zecora slowly approaching, the zebra's eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in awe.

“Oh my...” she whispered to herself. “Hey, Zecora! Zecora!” she shouted as she ran over to the fence. “Goodness, girl, I ain’t never seen you outside yer forest unless yer vistin’ Ponyville! Where ya off to?”

Zecora shook herself free of her amazement and bowed her head in greeting.

“Greetings, Applejack, I see you are well. I decided to leave and travel ‘just a spell.’ My destination unknown, I don’t really care, I have left Evertree forest to see what’s out there.”

“Hey! Did you say Zecora?!” A yellow and red blur shot towards the two and stopped in front of the fence, revealing a yellow filly with a red mane. A large pink bow on the back of her head shook slightly as she came to a quick halt. Amber colored eyes looked up at Zecora and the filly smiled. “ 'Mornin' Zecora! I ain't seen you proper-like since my big sis became my little sis! Y'remember me?"

Zecora smiled.

“Of course Apple Bloom; you’re the first friend I had, you didn't fear me like others, and for that I was glad. While I've not really seen you since then, it is true, I can say honestly that I won't forget you.”

Apple Bloom beamed.

As the conversation between the three friends continued, a huge red stallion, with green eyes and a bored expression on his face turned his head towards Zecora, curious about who his sisters were talking to. The stallion’s eyes locked on the zebra and they shot wide open. The sprig of wheat he was always chewing on fell from his mouth as he stared openly at her.

Zecora raised an eyebrow slightly at the shell-shocked stallion and then turned her attention back to Applejack and her sister. After another minute or so of conversation, Zecora bade farewell to the pair and Apple Bloom streaked off back to the house.

Applejack turned and headed back towards the orchard. She noticed Macintosh, still rooted in place and practically drooling as Zecora continued onwards. Applejack shook her head. “Macintosh, are you thinkin’ what I think yer thinkin’?”

Macintosh gave his sister a slightly embarrassed look, scooped up the sprig of wheat and composed himself. “Nope.”

Applejack looked up at his big brother and narrowed her eyes “Macintosh... You may be able to fool me some’a the time, but not all’a the time. I may not have experience in this sorta thing myself, but our family’s big enough that I’ve seen that look plenty of times and I know exactly what’s runnin’ though yer head.”

Macintosh sighed. “Guess I won’t hear the end of it until you wrangle it out of me.”

“Darn tootin’, big brother.” Applejack grinned. “Spill the beans.”

“Well... I’m pretty sure you’ve already figgered what m‘bout to say, but I was just thinkin’ ‘bout that mare you were talkin' to...She’s sure a pretty one...”

Applejack laughed and Macintosh went a slightly darker shade of red. “Zecora? Well, I dunno ‘bout yer chances if’n you decide to make her acquaintance; this’s the first time I ever seen her outside the Everfree forest ‘cept when she’s visiting Ponyville, and nopony knows all that much ‘bout her, since she kinda keeps to herself. She’s nice enough, though, so you wanna give it a shot, then by all means.”

“Mm. Might jus’ do that”, he replied. “Zecora, you say her name is? Pretty name, too.” Macintosh thought for a minute. “S’pose we better get back to work; this farm ain’t gonna run itself...”

“Eeeyup,” said Applejack and Macintosh smiled.

As Zecora continued on down the path, she momentarily considered the massive stallion who had been working in Applejack's groves. His reaction wasn't unexpected; he'd never seen her before, after all. She had never in her life seen a pony of such height and girth and his appearance had been quite striking to her in turn, though she'd hidden her reaction better than he had.

The sight of him had stirred something more in her, especially now that she thought of him, but she put it down as nothing more than a lingering aftereffect of her surprise at the stallion's sheer size and muscular appearance. He looked fully capable of kicking a tree down without breaking a sweat. Perhaps she'd ask Applejack about him upon her return.

Purely out of curiosity, of course.

Zecora put this thought to the side for now and concentrated on her trip.

After two or three hours of travelling the path, her head swinging back and forth to take in interesting scenery and any sudden movements caught out of corner of an eye, there suddenly came the sound of someone playing a rhythm on a stone. Zecora stopped to look for the player and the rhythm stopped as well.

When she continued on, the unseen player returned. She came to a halt once more and again the music vanished. She was bordering on annoyance until she realized the sound was coming from her! She looked down at her hooves and saw that the path had transformed into a series of interconnected stones.

Zecora tapped one of the stones, which responded with a satisfying click. Her face broke into a grin. She continued onward, her hooves clicking on the stones. She started to quietly sing an old tribal song, the rhythm of which matched the tapping of her hooves on the flagstones. Soon she began randomly changing the way she trotted to make new beats for the song, incorporating these changes of tempo and rythmn into a simple dance.

The scenery changed as well, farmhouses and fields giving way to fancy houses surrounded by equally fancy metal fences.

This area didn't seem anywhere near as wild as before; the flowers here were planted in clear patterns instead of just growing free. Nor were there any farming fields like those she had passed before reaching the stone path. If anything, all the ground here appeared to be for show, seemingly nothing more than great lawns. She could hear the sound of running water and followed it, soon finding the source to be a fountain in front of a particularly grandiose house.

The fountain itself didn't seem to serve any purpose, it was just…there. It had been built from what looked like marble accented with shining brass and was certainly pleasing to the eyes, but seemed a waste of perfectly useful water to Zecora. She watched the fountain burble and spray for a few moments before shrugging and continuing down the stone path. She accompanied the clicking of her hooves with song and dance once more.

“Oh my. There's something you don't see every day...” commented the well-dressed grey stallion as the zebra trotted down the flagstone street, swaying back and forth slightly and singing something under her breath.

“Hmf. Simply appalling,” replied his companion, a yellow mare wearing a white, amber-bejeweled cape. “A grown mare behaving like that. I think that’s a mare anyway. I've never heard of a pony looking like that before, all covered in stripes. Do you suppose she has some sort of sickness, Greysmoke?”

The stallion gave Zecora an appraising look as she approached. “Nnnooo…I think she’s supposed to look like that, Catseye dear. She certainly seems alright. At least physically. In fact she's rather handsome if you look at her just the right way; she holds a rather athletic appearance."

“Huh. Her parents must be ashamed of her, acting as she is," sniffed Catseye. "Probably explains why we haven’t seen her before now. They probably had her locked in a basement or something.”

She laughed derisively.

The stuffy mare continued. “And the accouterments. Those rough gold…things around her neck and foreleg. Rather gauche, if you ask me.

“Oh I don’t know,” piped up a dark-green mare in a silver ensemble, who had exited a nearby house and joined the two as they commented on Zecora’s entrance. “I think they’re rather nice, in a primitive sort of way. And I like the stripes as well. I wonder if she can get them in different colors?

“And that’s why nopony asks you about these things, Pinebreeze dear, you have no fashion sense whatsoever," replied Catseye with a haughty sniff. "I mean really. Stripes in June?" She snickered. “Ridiculous.”

Pinebreeze glared at Catseye, but the snooty mare ignored the dirty look and continued.

“And then there's those earrings! If she’s trying to make some sort of fashion statement, it may as well be ‘Look at me - I’m on fire!’ Just… Oh no. She’s looking our way.”

As Zecora continued down the path, the ambient noise lessened. The sounds of birds, forest creatures and the whooshing of a breeze through tree branches died away, and soon there was almost no sound at all, save for some bird calls, the sound of her hooves on the stone path and her quiet singing. Despite the huge houses she passed, it seemed that very few ponies lived here, for she had seen nopony since arriving, even though the place was clearly inhabited.

As she neared another of the overly fancy fountains, she spied a rather dapper grey stallion who was giving her a particularly intense look-over. The stallion was accompanied by two mares, one yellow, and the other green.

She approached the three.

The yellow mare, who wore a white cape embroidered with jewels that matched her coat, seemed oddly offended by her and inched away with a scowl as Zecora approached. The grey stallion gave an appearance of disinterest upon her approach. He wasn't rude as such, more as though he’d seen all of her that he’d needed to and simply accepted her being there. The green mare, dressed in silver fabric offered Zecora a somewhat nervous smile.

Zecora smiled back and approached her, as the mare appeared the friendliest of the three. She stopped a polite distance from Pinebreeze and nodded her head in greeting. Pinebreeze replied with a shyly waved hoof and welcomed the newcomer. "Um...good afternoon, Miss...?

"My name is Zecora, and I return your greeting. A fine beginning to our very first meeting."

“Oh, can you believe her?” muttered Catseye to Greysmoke, “She even talks primitively…”

"Sh, dear..." muttered the stallion in reply. "It's quite nice, actually. Soothing."

Catseye grumbled. "Savage, you mean. Why can't she just say 'a pleasure to make your acquaintance' or something, like anypony else?"

Greysmoke gently shushed her again and they watched on.

Pinebreeze, at a complete loss for words, looked over at her two companions nervously and then back to the zebra.

“Um…Yes. Well…um…

She made a valiant effort to reply with a rhyme of her own: "Um...My name is Pinebreeze, pony of black and white...um...you certainly are...er... quite a sight...?"

Zecora smiled joyfully. She was used to being spoken to normally, of course, but for one to speak as she did honored both herself and the speaker. Perhaps she had a touch of zebra in her family? Zecora decided to test this.

"Salamu, rafiki yangu. Habari gani?" she asked Pinebreeze politely.

Pinebreeze began to sweat nervously as the zebra spoke what sounded like nothing more than a short stream of gibberish. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out.

"Je, wewe ni sawa, rafiki?" asked Zecora, concern in her eyes.

Pinebreeze slowly backed away from the possibly insane pony.

"Um...um...um..."

She continued to back away until she was behind Catseye and Greysmoke. The zebra was perplexed. She would have expected confusion at the use of her native tongue, but Pinebreeze seemed genuinely afraid. Zecora attempted to approach the mare to help put her at ease, only to have Catseye step in front of her as Greysmoke dealt with the flustered Pinebreeze.

With a glare of pure malice and a sharp nod of her head in the direction Zecora had come, she made it quite clear that the zebra was unwelcome.

Taking the hint, Zecora decided to head back to Ponyville and her forest before things got even more out of hoof. It was nearing mid-afternoon as it was, and she'd trotted for quite some time and distance. She’d seen enough for one day.

Catseye gave the zebra a disdainful look as she retreated. Soon the sound of Zecora's hooves on the flagstones faded into silence.

"Savage..." she muttered to herself. She gave a haughty sniff and rejoined her companions.

Author's Note

The timeline of this story is set at a point between the first and second seasons: Zecora hasn't really opened up to anypony other than the primary characters at that point and she preferred to stay relatively secluded, only really leaving her forest when needed and generally only to shop for things her forest can't provide. Ponyville, while having accepted her, still find her a source of curiosity.

The foreign statements Zecora makes are in Swahili.

The first, 'Kwa Heri', is 'goodbye' The second, 'Salamu, rafiki yangu. Habari gani?' is 'Greetings, my friend. How are you?' the third "Je, wewe ni sawa, rafiki?" iss "Are you all right, friend?

Cherchez la Mare

Zecora returned to Sweet Apple Acres just as the sun was beginning to set, Applejack was still working alongside her brother in the grove. As she had when Zecora had set out, she took a short break, this time to welcome her back. Macintosh stopped what he was doing to lope over and join his sister.

“Done enough travellin’, Zecora?” she asked. “Didja enjoy yerself?”

“At first I enjoyed it, I have to admit, but I soon reached a point where I said ‘That is it’. At a point up the path, the ground turns to stone and though there were houses, I felt all alone. I then came upon three well-dressed ponies there: one friendly, one rude, the third seemed not to care. I frightened the friendly and angered the rude, the third one just watched, no change in attitude. I was clearly unwelcome so I chose to quit and return to your farm, that’s the whole truth of it.”

Applejack sighed sadly. “Yeah, that was Poshton Estates you reached. I’ve been there once and that was one time too many. I still can't believe how rude them's that live there are; one of 'em actually referred to me as an 'inbred hick' to his friend an' made sure I 'accidentally' heard him, too. Had'ta physically stop myself from kickin' his face in. Turnin' 'round an' comin' back was probably fer the best. I take a path that avoids the place entirely if I ever need go that way. Takes me a bit longer to get where I'm goin', but spares me the grief as well."

Applejack sighed again. "I’m sorry, Zecora; I should have warned you, but I didn't think you'd travel that far. S'no excuse, though. I ruined yer trip an' I'm sorry.”

Zecora shook her head in refusal of Applejack's apology and gave her friend a small smile.

“Don’t worry, my friend, I’d have turned back anyway. My plan was only to travel for one single day. Evening’s darkness approaches and furthermore, I admit that my hooves are becoming sore. So I return to my forest and my hut deep inside, but I traveled beyond it, and I can say this with pride!”

“Well, I’m glad you got out fer a bit; never hurts to take a stroll from time ta time,” replied Applejack, smiling.

Zecora was about to reply when her eyes suddenly widened. She turned her head slightly to the right and then raised it higher and higher still to take in Macintosh, who was suddenly standing beside Applejack. The stallion was even bigger than she'd thought, and he was already one of the biggest ponies she'd ever seen, even from a distance. His barrel was almost level with her eyes.

She couldn't believe somepony so large could move so quietly, either; one moment she was talking with Applejack, the next a mountain of a stallion was standing beside her as if by magic. Macintosh looked down at her and gave a lazy but friendly grin. Without even turning her head, Applejack nudged Macintosh in the ribs.

"Well, don't just stand there lookin' at her, y’big lug; introduce yerself."

Macintosh shook his head slightly and spoke in his deep, calm voice. "Sorry, sis. Sorry, ma'am. My name is Macintosh, but you can call me 'Big Mac', or just 'Mac' if’n ya want. Everypony else does."

Ewe mungu wangu.... They must feed him foals...

Zecora stood agape, nearly as shocked as Pinebreeze had been at her appearance. A moment later she remembered herself; she was being as rude as others when they stared at her.

"I’m sorry, Macintosh, I didn’t mean to stare, I'm afraid that you simply caught me unaware. I’ve not seen the like, nopony your size. Your appearance came to me as quite a surprise!"

“Aw, don’t worry ‘bout it; I get that quite a bit,” replied Macintosh. “I am pretty big fer my age, after all...” He chuckled quietly.

Applejack spoke up. “You say yer feeling a mite sore from yer travels? Well, shoot; why don’tcha jus’ stay the night? We got plenty enough room fer a guest, an’ Apple Bloom’d be happier than a clam at high tide to have ya here. Dinner’s ‘bout ready to start anyway an’ I bet yer hungry.”

Zecora agreed to stay; her legs were sorer from her travels then she had admitted, she hadn't really eaten today and it would be rude to turn down an invitation once given. She also felt that strange interest in Macintosh when she’d first seen him return, this interest having grown in strength upon meeting him personally and learning his name. She wanted to explore this further, now that the option availed itself.

Macintosh’s ears shot straight up when he heard Zecora accept Applejack’s invitation. He turned to his sister and gave her a look as the zebra headed to the house. Applejack winked. “Hey, I had ta give you an openin’, big brother; don’t say I ain’t lookin’ out fer ya...”

Macintosh sighed, smiled slightly and followed their guest to dinner.

After the Apple family gave their evening thanks and commenced eating, Zecora noticed Macintosh giving her furtive glances and, when she looked back, he blushed and tried to look innocent. Zecora smiled to herself. Suddenly, she felt another pair of eyes on her.

The oldest pony she had ever seen, with a green coat and a bone-white mane tied up in a bun was giving her a steady and remarkably sharp-eyed look, belying her somewhat sleepy appearance. The old mare gave her a kindly smile, her entire face creasing up into a series of laugh lines and Zecora gave her a deep bow of her head. This was clearly the family matriarch and deserving of as much respect as she could give.

“Heh. Pretty and well-mannered,” the green mare whispered to herself. Zecora cheeks went very slightly pink, her sharp hearing having picked up her comment. Speaking aloud, Granny Smith introduced herself to Zecora and welcomed her to her family’s home. Small talk was made as they ate, a great deal of it being questions from Zecora, who found the farm and the methods used to run it fascinating. Though she had a small garden of her own, tending such a massive field as Sweet Apple Acres must involve a thousand times more work and skill.

The four having run out of things to share with her, Granny Smith turned her full attention to Zecora.

“Well now, that’s enough ‘bout us. So how 'bout you? Mind telling us a bit ‘bout yerself?”

The Apples waited for Zecora to answer – the zebra was almost a complete mystery and anything she shared would likely be fascinating. Zecora smiled and spoke:

“My name is Zecora, as you’re all aware, among ponyfolk I’m a breed that’s quite rare. I’m a zebra from the land Marengeti and I live in the shade of the deep E…”

Before she could finish, Granny let out a large yawn.

“Oh fiddle-faddle.”

She gave Zecora an embarrassed look.

“I’m sorry fer that, dear. Didn’t mean to be rude an’cut you off like that. S’been a long day an’ this ol’ green mare just ain’t what she used to be.” She gave a short laugh.

“I’m afraid I’ll have'ta call it a night or I ain’t gonna be much good to anypony come th’mornin’.”

Already becoming drowsy, Granny Smith apologized once more and thanked Zecora for her visit before tottering away to her room.

Apple Bloom followed close behind – dinner had been later than usual tonight, her class was having a field trip tomorrow and she wanted to be bright-eyed for it.

Zecora offered to help clean up, but Applejack politely refused; as a guest, it wasn't her place to help. Zecora nodded to Applejack and Macintosh and slipped out the open front door to stand on the porch and enjoy the night air. As they cleared the dinner table, Applejack nudged Macintosh. “Well? Go out there and join her. If’n you wanna get to know her, you gotta get to know her. I’ll clear the table an’ handle the tidyin’, you just get goin’.”

Macintosh slowly and self-consciously headed to the front door. As he was trying to decide whether to follow through on his sister’s suggestion or not, Zecora spoke, her eyes still watching the sky steadily.

“The stars are beautiful and a rarely seen sight. The forest trees often block my view of the night.”

Macintosh stepped onto the porch and stood beside Zecora, looking up as well. After a minute or two of considering the cloudless sky, he spoke. “Never get tired of watchin’ ‘em, myself; they always seem a bit different every night. It’s almost like they know they’re bein’ looked ‘pon and want to make it interestin’ so you’ll come back the next night.”

Macintosh went silent again. A few moments later, he spoke: “Gotta say, though, they seem brighter an’ prettier than usual this night. Maybe it’s ‘cause of who I’m watchin’ ‘em with.”

Zecora turned her head to look up at Macintosh, who was still intently stargazing. At his compliment, the odd feeling ran through her once more, even stronger than the second time. This time, though, the feeling was accompanied by a further sensation, one that was warm like the summer eve but with a tiniest touch of frost.

It almost felt like fear, but in a good way – her heart raced oh so slightly and yet somehow it didn't worry her. This new sensation was pleasing to her even though she could put no name to it. It somehow reminded her of something; there was just the slightest twinge of familiarity...

Macintosh felt something as well. He found that just standing beside Zecora made him feel warm and content. It just felt right to be there, standing on the porch and watching the sky with her. He was in the right place, at the right time and with the right pony. He lowered his head and looked to Zecora in turn and their eyes met.

They gazed at one another, the sky momentarily forgotten.

“Then let us watch the stars together, Macintosh.” Zecora replied.

She moved to stand closer beside him. Macintosh could feel his side grow warm from Zecora’s body heat as their coats brushed against one another. They turned their eyes skyward again and watched in silence, their bodies lightly touching.

The next day, Zecora continued her journey back to her hut. Her feelings from the last night were still confusing to her; when she and Macintosh had stood together on that porch and then looked into each other’s eyes, it had been as though the night sky and its shimmering stars had ceased to exist. All she could see at that moment was the depth of Macintosh’s green eyes as she looked up at him and all she could feel was the 'pleasant fear'.

Zecora thanked Applejack and her family for their hospitality; the offer of her home for the night was most kind of Applejack to make. With a polite nod of her head, she exited Sweet Apple Acres and went down the path leading to Ponyville and her forest.

As she trotted back to Everfree, she spontaneously began humming a song under her breath and then began to dance as she had on the cobblestone path leading to Poshton Estates. Right forehoof forward, tap hoof, slide right, tap hoof, left forehoof forward… Her earrings jingled slightly as she went through each position.

She stopped as she realized what she was doing and looked around her self-consciously. No one had seen her display save a squirrel or two.

And now suddenly I’m as happy as a filly. I wonder why? I must think on this further.

She reached the forest and quickly made her way to her hut. Upon entering, she filled her brewing-pot with water and began to mix a simple potion to help focus her thoughts. She had long ago reached the point where some of her more common potions could be made almost reflexively and had found that her mind tended to clear of any residual fog in the doing.

The water began to bubble. Herbs were reduced to powder with a mortar and pestle before being added to the pot. Zecora focused entirely on the previous evening and pondered as her potion brewed...

Applejack turned to her big brother.

“So?”

“So what?”

“You know exactly 'so what', Macintosh. Did you tell Zecora what you thought ‘bout her?”

“Nope. Spent a good amount of time watching the stars together last night and nothing else,” he said as Applejack began to snicker. “To be honest, I was so happy just to be with her I flat out forgot to say a word. So I figure I gotta take matters into my own hooves.”

“Whatcha got in mind, big brother?”

“Tomorrow, I’m gonna travel to her hut an’ bring her a bag of our best apples as a gift. She sees I’m willing to go through the trouble of travelling there just to see her, she’d know I was serious an’ I could tell her how I felt.”

Applejack paled.

“You...you sure you wanna do that, Macintosh?” asked Applejack with concern. “I did tell ya she lives in Everfree, right? That ain’t the most friendly of places, an’ Zecora’s the only one I know who can live there safely. An’ you don’t even know where her hut is. Might be dangerous. Probably be dangerous.”

“Eeyup,” replied Macintosh, “That’s the point, sis. Gotta prove myself to her. Gotta show her I'm willing to risk myself fer her. I’ll make you a deal, though – you promise to keep this a secret ‘tween us, and I promise to turn an’ come back if’n things get too hairy.”

Applejack considered this carefully for a minute and then sighed. “Well I think this is a stupid idea an’ yer just lookin’ fer trouble, but if I can’t trust the word of my own kin…”

She scowled up at his big brother. “Now you promise you’ll come right back the moment it starts getting’ troublesome? I don’t relish explainin’ this to Granny should the horseapples hit the fan, ‘specially the part about hidin’ this from her...”

“I promise, sis,” replied Macintosh gravely.

Applejack stood quietly for another moment and then appeared to come to a resolve. She spat on a forehoof and reached for Macintosh. Macintosh did the same and the two spit-shook to seal the deal.

Breaking a spit-shake promise was nearly as bad as breaking a Pinkie Pie one.

Nearly.

“Don’t suppose I can talk y’out of it?” asked Applejack hopefully.

“Nope.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

The next morning, Macintosh loaded up a saddlebag with apples and some apple blooms on top, which he added partly for their beauty and partly in honor of his youngest sister, who was Zecora’s first friend. Granny Smith and Apple Bloom wished him well, unaware of exactly where he was going.

Macintosh had told Granny Smith and his youngest sibling that he had his eye set on a filly and wanted to make her acquaintance, but neglected to mention that the filly in question was Zecora. Granny’s eyes twinkled – she knew exactly who Macintosh was going to meet. The boy was as easy to read as a shopping list and she certainly hadn't missed the looks he’d given Zecora. If she had known that Everfree forest was where Zecora lived...

Apple Bloom was oblivious to these sort of matters and was as unaware as to whom Macintosh was going to meet as Granny was about where he was heading, not being quite old enough to put two and two together in this respect.

With a stretch of his legs, he said goodbye to the three of them and headed out.

After about a half-hour of walking, Macintosh reached the point where the path split and led to Ponyville and the Everfree Forest. He turned towards Everfree and continued onward. Fifteen minutes later, he reached the outskirts of the forest.

The scenery became noticeably darker and drearier; the shadows seemed to pull the color from everything. Macintosh half-wished he’d asked Applejack for a rough idea as to how to reach Zecora’s hut, but he'd told his sister that he needed to do this on his own, with no help from others.

Steeling himself, he entered Everfree forest.

The light immediately dimmed by almost half, and the air became humid and cooler. Macintosh stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust. He heard the sounds of strange birds and forest creatures as he looked around to get his bearings. The trees surrounding him were as gloomy as the atmosphere of the forest: most of them were tall and skeletal-looking, with black glistening bark and branches that looked like talon-fingered arms. Many of them were covered in moss and some almost appeared to have faces.

Vines hung from many of the trees and the shadows of small creatures could sometimes be seen leaping from branch to branch. The forest floor was covered in wet leaves and there was a slight smell of rotting vegetation. Large bushes shook when there was a breeze, making an ominous creaking sound.

Macintosh saw what appeared to be a path through the forest and followed it. Eventually, it passed through a small outcropping of plants with bright blue-leaves. He walked through it and continued further into the forest. His legs tingled strangely for a moment, but he paid it no mind.

A short time later, it felt as though his saddlebags and harness collar were becoming heavier. He put this down to all the walking he had done and the dreary atmosphere of the forest, which seemed to suck the light and life from everything. Nonetheless, the weight of his harness seemed to grow all the heavier upon his consideration as he trotted.

Ten minutes or so after that, the harness felt like it weighed a ton and he could barely move. Macintosh closed his eyes and lowered his head to catch his breath. As he panted, his harness slowly slid from his neck and hit the ground with a hearty thud.

Macintosh’s eyes shot open. He looked down at the harness and noticed his foreleg was almost stick-thin. The other was the same. He went cold with shock and he stumbled through the forest until he found a pool of water. He looked into it.

A pair of large green eyes stared back up at him from a rounded, almost filly-like face. Macintosh backed away from the pool so quickly that he fell backwards onto his hindquarters. His normally calm nature, already strained to the breaking point by now, failed him completely and he let out a high-pitched cry of pure terror.

He was a colt again.

Author's Note

'Ewe mungu wangu' is 'Oh my god' in Swahili.

And I aint done with Mac, either. *Insert diabolical laughter*

Deep in the Everfree

A small patch of thick, smoke-like mist shifted gently at Macintosh's terrified shout. An end of the cloud rose, coalescing into a rounded shape. Two triangular wisps rose from the side of the shape and solidified into ears. The shape stretched forwards into a muzzle and diamond-like fangs appeared as the head completed itself. The rest of the cloud rose and lengthened, becoming the creature's body even as the remaining vapors flowed away, becoming four lean legs and a tail. Finally, a pair of amethyst eyes formed, completing the transformation.

The wolf-like creature let out a yawn and stretched. This was a ceocú, a creature of the fae, and in his panic Macintosh had awoken it. It sniffed the air tentatively. It smelled meat, unlike any creature it had hunted. But on top of that it smelled something else.

It smelled fear.

Regardless of where it had come, one thing was for certain: the new creature was afraid. The smell was unmistakable. The ceocú was an experienced hunter, and knew frightened prey meant a potential meal, for in their fear they often made mistakes. Mistakes often led to a full belly. The mist that surrounded the ceocú would help as well, it made it hard for most creatures to focus upon it properly.

It would track the new prey’s scent, and if it led to something it could take down with little risk to itself…

Well, it was impossible to have too much to eat.

The ceocú's eyes shone through the thin fog that constantly roiled around the creature and they narrowed as it searched for the new prey...

With a supreme effort, Macintosh managed to calm himself and silence the gibbering voice within his head. What had happened had happened; screaming his head off wouldn't help matters. As he clumsily got back onto his hooves, the saddlebags,which were now much looser on his body due to his being smaller and thinner, slipped off as well, partly due to his change in size and partly due to his collapsing. He took that surprising well, only whining slightly as they hit the ground.

He'd felt some weight in his legs as he'd gone to the pool, and looked at a forehoof. For some unknown reason, whatever had done this to him had also shrunk his horseshoes, but left the weight the same. Considering he was currently only about half the size of a stallion and as a stallion was almost half again larger than a typical male, this left him with shoes about three times heavier than usual, if not more.

He snorted in annoyance. Oh goody. That'll help, he thought disgustedly. The only thing I get to keep is something that'll make things a tiny bit more difficult for me.

Seems to be an ongoing theme for me today...

With a sigh, Macintosh contined onward.

The ceocú soon located the source of the new smell, but wasn't much to look at. It was primarily red with orange hair atop the head and as a tail. It was an awkward gangly thing, its legs appearing to be mostly made of knees. The rest of it wasn't all that impressive, either. The thing looked half-starved, even sickly. The ceocú almost considered letting the thing go, but it looked as though it would be too easy a kill to just abandon, and it might be tastier than it appeared. It moved closer and let out a loud anticipatory growl...

The colt considered his options. He obviously couldn't go back as he was; at the very least there would be questions as to where he'd really been. And then there was no knowing if this....whatever was temporary or permanent. He shook his head and sighed.

Well...I'm already a good way into the forest, he reasoned to himself, I may as well keep going. l have to, really; this is obviously some sort of magic or hex and since Miss Zecora lives here, she'll likely know what happened and how to fix it.

Anyway, if I go home like this…

Macintosh didn’t dare think any further on the subject; he might be breaking a spit-shake promise, but there was a huge difference between ‘turning back if things get a bit hairy’ and…this.

On top of everything else, Granny’d tan his hide like there was no tomorrow.

He thought that was probably the scariest part.

Then he heard the growl.

Macintosh rolled his eyes. And the troubles, they just keep on a-coming… The growling got closer and Macintosh clumsily bolted for the closest bush. He wasn't used to hiding from trouble, but he also wasn’t used to being half his age or less; whatever that growl had come from would probably make short work of him, especially in the state he was in, both physical and mental.

The ceocú gave a short bark of annoyance; it had made too much noise before emerging and the prey had enough wits about it to hide in a bush instead of panicking. It would have to make do with the fruit the red prey had been carrying. It wasn't as fulfilling as meat, but it would do.

For now.

While Macintosh hid, he heard a tearing sound and wet chewing. He peeked out of the bush, but could see nothing but his saddlebag being mauled, the bag hiding the identity of the creature lunching on his apples. He backed himself deeper into the bush.

Well, there go the apples, he thought sadly. Could have been worse though; could have been me. I suppose that’s at least one bright point. Celestia knows I could certainly use one…

The sounds of chewing and tearing broke off and there was a gentle padding as the creature loped away. After a minute, Macintosh emerged. Just as he’d feared, the saddlebag had been torn apart and all of the apples were gone. All that remained were some of the apple blooms.

Macintosh grumbled for a moment at the loss and then returned his attention to the job at hoof; right now he needed to see Zecora for something quite a bit more important than just courting her. That sort of thing could wait until after. He picked up the slight scent of burning wood, possibly from a cooking fire? He decided to follow it; it wasn't as though he knew where he was at this point anyway, having lost his sense of direction in his panic, and it would give him something to focus on. It was a promising sign, at least. As he went deeper into the forest, a pair of eyes shone from a bush and vanished.

Macintosh kept as close to the trees as possible as he travelled onwards; whatever it was that ate his saddlebag sounded big and mean, and he wanted to stay as hidden as possible. Fortunately, his legs seemed to be getting stronger; it wasn't so hard to move around anymore. The weight of the horseshoes actually seemed to be a help, not a hindrance. And of course not having the saddlebag and collar on helped immensely. At least now he’d be able to go through the forest on legs he didn't have to worry would collapse beneath him.

As Macintosh carefully moved his way through the forest, it seemed to him that every plant in this forest had sharp thorns and all the insects were biters or blood-drinkers. He began to itch badly, and all over. He rubbed against a tree in order to find some relief and let out a contented sigh.

The eyes in the bush followed his progress and the ceocú slipped from one bush to another as it followed its prey and waited for a second chance. A slight wisp of vapor followed in its wake as it skulked...

Macintosh kept going forward. Was the smell of smoke getting stronger? Given how the day has been so far, he chose be optimistic and decided that was the case. As he stopped momentarily to get a fix on the smell, there was a rustling sound and the forest sounds suddenly cut off like a candle had been blown out, replaced by a growl, like the one he'd heard upon losing his saddlebag, though this one was quieter. And closer.

Oh horseapples... he thought, looking behind him.

It looked vaguely like a wolf, if you could make a wolf from what appeared to be drifting smoke or fog .

It looked hungry. That wasn't difficult to see, even given its unique appearance.

And he appeared to be on the menu.

Macintosh bolted away and the ceocú followed with a ferocious bark. With his gangly legs and lack of his usual fortitude, Macintosh wasn’t exactly breaking any speed records, and the uneven forest floor was slowing his mad dash further. The ceocú, however, was in its element and had no problem following him.

This is not good; that thing's gettin' closer by the second, I'm having trouble just staying upright and confrontin' it'd be commiting suicide. I need me an edge; somethin' to keep that thing busy an' give me advantage enough to get away.

The distance between predator and prey quickly began to lessen. As Macintosh ran for all he was worth, something ahead of him caught his eye. He smiled despite the situation.

And I think I see just the advantage I need…

Macintosh’s desperate flight brought him close to a large tree. He did a quick ninety degree turn and slowed enough to give the tree a hearty kick with his hind legs before racing off in the new direction.

The kick loosened a large branch from high up which landed on the ceocú's back with an impressive thud. The creature let out a loud yelp and broke off pursuit – the impact hadn't harmed it, but it had been a hearty one, stunning it and bringing it to its knees.

Macintosh kept running until he realized he was no longer being chased. He stopped to catch his breath, which took longer than he expected. He really hated this forest now and wanted to leave, curse or no curse, but he’d already gone this far and had reached the point where accepting the possibility of failure just wasn't going to happen; he’d get to Zecora’s hut if it killed him.

He refused to dwell on the fact that it just might.

He was becoming more than a bit hungry at this point; being as young as he now was, he didn't have the fortitude he once had and even though he'd eaten only a couple of hours before, his belly was rumbling. That run hadn't helped matters, either. He wished he still had his saddlebags. Even one or two apples would have been enough.

His stomach growled louder and his mouth began to water.. I just had to think that, didn't I? Well, Zecora spends pretty much all of her time here, so there must be stuff for her to eat. After a short search, he found what appeared to be a blueberry bush. They looked like blueberries, they smelled like blueberries and, taking a careful bite, found they tasted like blueberries, so he tucked in.

They weren't blueberries.

He was violently sick.

Fortunately (if you could call it that) after the last piece of berry spewed out of him, he found his stomach felt more full, or at least had stopped growling. The berries tasted okay; I guess some of them had just gone bad, he thought. At least I'm not hungry any more, which is kind of surprising, given how sick I was. Not gonna complain though; I seem okay otherwise...

He took a gargle of water from a small pool nearby to clean the taste of vomit from his mouth and spat it out. He continued onward, unaware that the berries he’d just eaten were deadly poisonous. The berry’s toxin made his belly feel full, but from that point on he was slowly dying and, due to the poison’s insidious nature, was completely unaware of it.

The poison began to affect him with a slowly growing exhaustion, though given his current situation, it was overlooked as simple exertion; he literally wasn't the stallion he used to be. Soon he gave a short yawn and stopped to stretch. Applejack was right: entering this forest had been a big mistake. He'd have to give her an apology if...when he got home. Fortunately the smell of smoke had become a lot stronger than before the weird-looking wolf had come across him and he'd had those terrible berries. Zecora had to be around here somewhere.

The ceocú had picked up the red prey's scent again and began tracking it. The creature had tried to harm it - this was becoming personal. This time, though, the red prey was out in the open; there were no trees around and it was far enough from the bushes that when the ceocú made its appearance it would be too late for the red prey to do anything but die. The ceocú's eyes gleamed with equal parts hunger and malice. It had gone through enough effort for its meal - it decided it may just kill the creature out of spite and be done with it, leaving the corpse for the scavengers to pick clean.

More time passed and Macintosh’s exhaustion grew and grew as his heart pumped the poison through his body while he searched for the source of the smoke.

Finally, as the poison was reaching the final stage and his consciousness was beginning to slip away entirely, Macintosh saw a dome-like structure in the distance.That had to be Zecora's hut! After all, who else would live here? He stumbled towards it and shouted Zecora’s name. After shouting her name several times — each more desperate and incoherent than the last — she emerged, looking annoyed at the intrusion. Her eyes widened upon seeing the exhausted colt stumbling towards her.

“Macintosh? Is that you? Oh my poor friend. What has happened to you? My help I will lend.”

The ceocú moved up to a tall bush. It began to salivate in anticipation as it crept through the branches of the bush and towards the creature...

Macintosh smiled. It had taken who knows how long and he'd dealt with more troubles than a single pony deserved to be stricken with, but he’d finally found her. He tottered towards Zecora on legs that hardly worked any more. Her eyes widened further and she stepped back. Macintosh heard the sounds of branches breaking behind him and a growl which grew steadily louder. He slumped his shoulders and sighed. That damned smoke-wolf thing again… Something snapped inside Macintosh’s mind and he heard a roaring sound inside his head as rage flooded through him. Even his exhaustion was pushed aside by its strength.

The ceocú advanced. Macintosh didn't move.

He spoke quietly: “Y’know, all things considered I've been remarkably patient 'bout this whole situation. While I’ve been here in this Celestia-bedamned forest, somethin’ made me into a colt again. Somethin’ — an’ I’m bettin’ it was you — ate the gift I was bringin’ to Miss Zecora. Every damned bug has had its way with me, and I seem to walk through every damned bush with thorns. But I walked it off. Sure, I was as scared for my life as I've ever been, but I knew if I just kept on, I'd find Miss Zecora an' everything'd be right with the world.

"But of course I don't get shown a speck of mercy. At all. Even after all I've been through, the spirit of bad luck is still riding on my back.

"And as I’m trying my hardest an' doin' my best to get here, despite every single bit of bad news this damned forest has thrown in my path, you show up an’ try to kill me. Twice. Now, I know you’re a critter of the forest and you're jus' doin' what comes natural to you an' I understand that, but to put it simply this has been one of the worst days of my life.

"And I’m sorry to say, but I’ve reached my limit. I'm puttin' my hoof down – I’ve taken enough an’ I ain’t takin’ no more."

Macintosh took a deep breath.

“Now I'm not the violent sort; heck I'm one'a the nicest ponies yer likely to meet. Even when I was normal-sized, I wouldn't've raised a hoof to nopony in anger nor to harm. But as I said, this has been a really bad day fer me, an' your taking a second shot at me, well, that just sealed the deal.

"So if you want a piece of me, you mange-tailed sonovabitch..."

His voice rose to a shout of pure fury.

"...then COME AN' GET IT!!”

The ceocú let out a roar and charged. Macintosh, using the last of his strength, bucked as hard as he could as it leapt towards him. There was a wet crunch as his iron horseshoes caught it full in the face and the colt's legs went numb from the impact. The fae creature let out an agonized howl as the touch of the iron burned the creature's face horribly and it barreled towards the nearest bush as fast as the crippled creature could. Several teeth and a sizeable trail of smoking blood were left in its wake, both of which dissipated into mist as the ceocú returned to its incorporeal form in order to flee all the faster.

Breathing like someone who had just run a marathon, Macintosh laughed faintly and muttered “That’ll learn ya, ya damn fool…sum…sumbish…”

His heavy breathing suddenly became harsh gasping. With a panicked look on his face he tottered unsteadily, his forelegs crossed and he collapsed onto his side. He moaned what sounded like the zebra’s name, his eyes rolled up into his head and he went still. Zecora advanced upon his still form, concern in her large blue eyes.

Author's Note

'Ceocú' is a combination of the Irish words Ceo (fog) and cú (hound) and is pronounced 'KYO-coo'

To a member of 'the fae folk' (faeries), iron is like a combination of acid and poison - it's their primary weakness.

Quest's End

Zecora carefully pulled Macintosh back into her hut; not a difficult task, considering how terribly thin the once tall and muscular stallion had become. She set him upon her cot and lowered an ear to his barrel. His heartbeat mirrored his breathing, ragged and uneven. He wasn't just exhausted, he was practically dying. She caught a scent on his breath: the scent of berries rotting in the sun. She went cold.

That fool. Eating of the forest without a second thought! And of all the things he could have eaten to sate his appetite, it had to be that...

Macintosh had fallen prey to the toxin of the driftaway berry, one of the most deadly poisonous plants the already dangerous Everfree had to offer, and the final stage of the poisoning was even now beginning to show itself.

She slapped Macintosh's face; keeping the victim awake sometimes raised the chances of survival; at the very least it might give her a few extra minutes to mix up the antidote. Macintosh stirred and mumbled, "Jus' five more minutes, Granny," and weakly swatted her hoof away. She continued on this way: fetching flowers and leaves from cabinets and shelves and stopping momentarily to give Macintosh a slap and keep him at least semi-conscious, but it was having less and less of an effect.

Soon, Macintosh's already ragged breathing transformed into wet wheezes. Zecora worked all the faster, beginning to panic. She prayed to the spirits of her home that they would give her the time she needed...

Finally, her worry making the few minutes it took to create the potion feel like one minute too long, it was ready.

The thick, paste-like brew bubbled unappealingly, letting out a stink that made her eyes water.

Dipping a bowl into the light-orange mixture, she rushed to Macintosh's side, nearly spilling half of the antidote in her hurry. She got as much of it into him as she could, forcing him to swallow. Macintosh's forelegs shuddered weakly as he tried pushing the bowl and its foul-smelling contents away. She only hoped she'd been quick enough...

A minute passed, and his breathing seemed to improve, returning to the ragged gasping of before. It wasn't much of an improvement, but she took every crumb of positive news she could grab.

His breathing improved further and he was slowly working his way towards consciousness. His head began to rise from the pillow of the cot and his eyes opened very slightly. Zecora nearly clapped with glee.

Her happiness was short-lived.

Macintosh's eyes suddenly snapped open fully and his breathing reverted to wheezes even harsher than before — harsh enough that small droplets of blood sprayed from his mouth with each tortured breath.

No.

His eyes closed again and his head fell back onto the pillow. Soon his wheezes slowed and quieted.

Oh, please don't.

Slowed and quieted further still.

Please...

A few seconds later, Macintosh let out a tiny, pained whine.

...please...

And then he died.

Zecora looked down at the thin, sad form lying on her cot and a stream of emotions flowed through her in short order: pity for poor Macintosh over what he had been reduced to, anger at having him taken from her, fear as she watched him die after trying desperately to save his life and a combination of sadness and self-loathing for having failed him. These feeling were intermingled with a cold wind — a wind that cut like a razor in passing. Her stomach twisted; she almost felt nauseous. He had gone through all this for nothing.

He'd had his strength and maturity stripped from him by poison joke. He'd been pursued as prey by the ceocú and had struck it down in the end, despite his weakened state. He'd unknowingly eaten driftaway berries. And yet, even as their poison had been eating away at him, making him more and more exhausted as his efforts caused it to flow ever faster through his body he'd fought every step of the way (literally as well as figuratively) to reach her, only die in front her. He'd lost his strength, his dignity, and finally his life just for her.

And in the end, despite her efforts all she could do was watch it happen.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair at all.

And now she had to tell his family of this and admit her failure to save him. She wondered if she should bring Macintosh's body back with her, but making her way there while carrying him would be somewhat difficult, even given her knowledge of which shortcuts she could take. It would be safe enough to leave him here.

'Safe' being interpretative in this case.

Would his family blame her for Macintosh's death? Would they say she didn't try hard enough? And what of little Applebloom, the first of her many friends? She would hate her now and forever, along with her sister and Granny Smith. She would no doubt lose her other friends as well. Things would be even worse than when she had simply been feared.

And just maybe that would be fair.

She gently wiped off the flecks of blood from around his lips (at least she could do that right) and turned to the door. The sooner this was over with the better.

'Better' being interpretive in this case.

She let out a final sigh, opened the door and stepped out into her forest.

From behind her came a wail. Her head whipped around and she saw Macintosh literally bounce upwards off of the cot and take in a huge breath of air. He collapsed into a heap on the cot and after letting out a series of moans like a foal having a nightmare drifted into unconsciousness. Zecora's heart rate almost doubled and a massive burst of emotion, the likes of which she never felt in all her life hit her like a club, causing her to practically stagger — a tidal-wave of joy, of relief and of that alien and yet somehow familiar sensation. She sobbed even as she reveled in it.

Quickly regaining her composure, or at least a semblance of it, she rushed back into her hut as fast as her suddenly unsteady legs would allow.

Zecora lowered her head to Macintosh's barrel again and listened. His heartbeat was strong and constant and his breathing, though sharp with stench of the antidote, was clear, with no rasping nor gasping. He soon began to sweat profusely as the potion raised his body temperature, flushing the poison out of him through his skin.

She fetched a rag and gently wiped his coat, being certain to ensure the sweat touched nothing but her hooves. The sweat contained the poison and, given how close to death Macintosh had come, this poison would be extremely concentrated. She would succumb quickly to its effect should she come in contact with it. Macintosh's coat had to be cleaned, though, or the poison would eventually seep back into him. He would only be safe for the amount of time that would take. Macintosh wasn't truly out of danger until the sweat was gone.

Zecora wrung the rag out into a bowl for later disposal. The rag and bowl would then be used as fuel for her cooking fire, the contact with the concentrated poison making them too dangerous to ever use again.

The heat made Macintosh whimper in discomfort, and he struggled slightly in his sleep. Zecora carefully restrained him, again being certain to touch him with nothing but her hooves. Soon he stopped struggling and returned to lightly snoring. Zecora wiped the remaining sweat from one side of his body, gently rolling him onto his other side and continuing, until she was sure every drop was gone.

Now that the sickly colt was properly asleep and his coat was clean, Zecora went to mix the potion to deal with his other problem. As she mixed, she considered the events of the last half-hour; certainly she would have been extremely worried if anypony else had been poisoned, particularly a friend. Likewise, curing them of their affliction would please her no end, as such a thing rightly should, but her reaction when it had been Macintosh's life on the line was far beyond worry and pleasure.

Zecora had been absolutely terrified at the thought of seeing him die. And when he had, even for that short time...

Her soul had just fallen apart, as though it had been frozen and then smashed with a hammer.

And when Macintosh had been returned to him, his awakening had been accompanied by the purest of joy — joy that brought light to her soul brighter than the rays of the summer sun.

Joy and something else. Something that was almost powerful enough to bring her to her knees.

She stirred the contents of the pot as she thought further. She looked over at Macintosh and felt a small surge of joy with every rise and fall of the colt's chest. Soon her eyes opened wide and she slowly stopped stirring as understanding finally struck her. She smiled at the peacefully sleeping colt; at last she knew what she was feeling. It explained her sudden interest in Macintosh when she'd first seen him and why thinking of him after that night under the stars made her so cheerful. It also explained why it always felt slightly familiar.

It felt somewhat like friendship, only infinitely more powerful.

She'd never truly felt this sensation, which Rarity — Zecora having found her fawning over her latest romantic pursuit — had described to her with the cryptic statement 'You'll know it when it happens', but after the day's events, Rarity's words made sense. The only reason it had taken Zecora so long to realize what she had been feeling was because of her isolation: the hike she'd taken was the first time she'd ever really left her forest 'for fun' and Macintosh was the first stallion she'd ever met in more than an impartial manner.

Zecora went back to mixing her potion, a warmth running through her that had nothing to do with the cooking fire.

Macintosh awoke. That was a huge mistake and he felt bad for doing it.

Then he just plain felt bad.

He felt like a huge bruise — there was no other word for it. Well, there was, but he'd been brought up to not use language like that, even to himself. He had a headache so bad he was surprised he was able to even think about it and he could literally see his heartbeat as a series of dull flashes in his vision. He moaned piteously.

I must be alive; I can't see the afterlife being so cruel as to leave me in this state. Then again, considering how my day's been so far... He tried getting his legs beneath him, but they would have nothing to do with it - just the movement made him light-headed and almost physically sick. Getting out of bed being currently impossible, he had to console himself with the only action he seemed currently capable of: another whiny moan. Hearing Macintosh finally awaken, Zecora trotted over to his side. He laboriously turned his head, which currently felt like a cinderblock being struck with a mallet, to look at her. She smiled, her eyes glittering.

"Good evening, Macintosh, I don’t know why you came here, but you’re cured of your sickness, you’ve no more to fear. Poison joke was the culprit, your age and strength it regressed, and yet you still made your way here; I’m very impressed."

She took on a serious expression and continued.

"I’m glad that you reached me, your chances were poor, you’d worn out completely; you stood at death’s door. For you'd been poisoned as well, I could tell right away. You'd eaten driftaway berries and nearly died yesterday! I quickly mixed an antidote for you. You were completely exhausted, slept a day, almost two. "

She smiled.

"You’ll be sore for a while, in my hut you should stay. The pain should be gone in less than a day.”

“Ze...Zecora, I...” mumbled Macintosh and yawned hugely.

“No need to speak, Macintosh, I can see you still need some rest. Just lie here a bit more, I think that’s for the best.”

“But what about my family, Zecora? They gotta be worried sick about me!”

Zecora nodded. “It’s true they were worried, but I told Applejack you were at my hut resting and that you’d soon be back. I told her this quickly, and my leave I did take, then I rushed back to my hut but you still weren't awake.”

“That’s good. As long as they know...” He yawned again and began to doze off. The pain dulled as consciousness once again slipped away from him.

Some time later, he was awakened by the smell of cooking vegetables intermingled with spices. He raised his head to see Zecora filling a wooden bowl with a thick soup. She brought over to him and helped him eat, gently spooning it into his mouth. He didn't know if it was because of something Zecora may have added to it or simply because he was so hungry, but each mouthful seemed to fill him with vigor, the last of the pain fading along with his hunger. The bowl was quickly emptied and Macintosh let out a contented sigh.

Well, now. Belly's full and the pain's gone, so now let's see if I can get myself upright. Done enough napping. Macintosh shifted his legs slightly, making his intent to stand clear to Zecora. Zecora gave him a slight look of concern and then a nod. With more than some assistance from her, Macintosh unsteadily got onto his hooves.

His legs were still quite stiff, but he was able to keep his balance and stay upright. He gave them a stretch, his knees popping in a satisfying manner. He took more than some pleasure when he looked at them - they were thick and solid as tree trunks again, instead of the thin gangly twigs they had been just a short time ago. He felt the strength he was used to returning to his muscles. He was about to speak up, when Zecora shook her head.

“First let us exit the forest, I’m sure you’d like out, and then you can tell me what this was about.”

Macintosh agreed without a moment’s hesitation; he’d been here far more than long enough. Zecora led him down a path hidden deep between several large bushes and they were shortly out of Everfree forest. He snorted; she made getting out look so easy, but then again she lived there.

“I am never going into that forest again”, proclaimed Macintosh. “No offense, Zecora ma’am.”

“None taken, my friend. Everfree forest is a danger, especially to someone to whom it’s a stranger." She put particular emphasis on the end her reply. "Now Macintosh, you going to say what led up to the events yesterday?”

He looked embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that; seemed a good idea at the time.” Zecora cocked her head quizzically, a question in her eyes.

“Um...well ma’am...When we were watchin’ the stars that night an’ we stood together, I found myself quite taken with you, ‘specially after that look we shared. Didn't say anything at the time, though, since just being with you seemed enough. Would'a felt kinda wrong sayin' anything then - would'a ruined the mood.”

Zecora nodded.

Macintosh went on. “Next day, I figured that I should show you how I felt. I was gonna come by your hut with a gift an’ confess my feelings t’you. But then I got shrunk an’ that wolf-critter showed up..." Macintosh's eyes closed, his shoulders slumped and he looked down to the ground in embarrassment. "I’m sorry for the trouble I've caused... it was a stupid thing for me to do, an' I should'a known better. I’ll head on back home.” Macintosh started back to his farm.

Zecora called to him as he loped down the path.

“Wait, Macintosh, please, I have to confess, the blame is half mine in this whole sorry mess." Macintosh stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"I wish I’d said then but I have something to tell: on that night, while we star-gazed I felt it as well. An attraction to you, while we both watched the sky, and this feeling, it deepened; I didn't know why."

Macintosh approached Zecora as she explained, stopping a polite distance in front of her. She continued:

"I stood close to you then, that somehow felt right, as we two looked up and watched the stars on that night. This feeling was new, I could give it no name, but it is clear to me now that you felt the same. I felt it strongly as we stood there, just we two. I now understand, Macintosh... I love you too.”

Macintosh was dumbstruck. “You mean we both felt the same way then?”

Zecora nodded.

“And neither of us thought to make the first move?”

Zecora shook her head and smiled slightly.

Macintosh laughed and Zecora went pink with embarrassment.

Soon his laughing ceased and he gave the zebra serious look. "Don't you dare consider yourself to carry any blame; ain't right an' I won't allow it. Was my idiotic idea to do this, an' I pretty much deserved all that happened to me for bein' so stupid."

He looked deep into Zecora’s eyes. “But even considering how bad things turned out for me ‘cause I couldn't speak up when I should’a, it was worth it in the end. An' if I had’ta do this a hundred…no, a thousand times, knowin’ what would happen to me — turnin’ into a colt and workin’ myself near to death to reach you — I would have. Just for this moment.”

Macintosh grinned ruefully. “Though I gotta admit I'd shed no tears if I could skip the part about nearly dyin'... An' if it's all the same to you, I think if we’re gonna keep seeing each other...”

“...meeting outside Everfree would be less of a bother.” finished Zecora.

Macintosh let out a sharp laugh and the two gently nuzzled. “I gotta get back to th’ farm. I’m in enough trouble as it is already, what with my lyin’ an’ all. Come on by tomorrow. Providin’ I ain’t gonna end up countin' leaves for the next month, we can decide on what to do next. An’ of course the family’ll be happy to see you — you made quite an impression on Granny.”

As they shared a final farewell nuzzle, Macintosh continued back to Sweet Apple Acres, humming to himself and practically cantering with pleasure. Zecora smiled at the retreating stallion and melted back into her forest to await tomorrow.

Author's Note

Thanks to CDRW for copyedit help. Say thanks to him. Or her. I'm not really sure which.

If you like it, be sure to upvote it. I wanna see how far up the ladder I can get this sum'bitch.

Epilogue: The Half-aversary

“…are you sure I can’t do anything to help? I could…”

Granny Smith gave Macintosh a smack on the muzzle with a wooden spoon.

It was six months to the day. Six months since he’d first seen and fallen in love with Zecora. Six months since Macintosh had made his ill-fated trip into the Everfree. Six months since Zecora admitted she felt the same as he did.

A whole half year.

In those six months, quite a few changes had occurred. Zecora, in the hopes of getting more of a feel for Macintosh’s way of life, asked if she might be taught some of the ways of the farm. She was welcomed with open arms, becoming the student of both Macintosh and his younger sister, Applejack, who taught her the finer points of applebucking.

She managed to surprise Applejack in that respect. The zebra had quite a kick to her.

Zecora had taught Macintosh and the Apples in turn, taught them what she knew and had learned. How to combine herbs, roots, and leaves into combinations that would heal the sick or injured, help plants grow stronger and faster, or just make a good meal taste better. She also showed the ways of her forest: how to deal with certain creatures, safe paths through it and, with a pointed look towards Macintosh, which leaves, fruits and berries were safe to eat and which weren’t.

"Now you just never mind none, Macintosh; I don't need you hangin' over my shoulder an' crowdin' up my kitchen!" Granny Smith gave Macintosh a stern look that almost immediately melted into one of affection. She was proud of him; he'd found his very special somepony at last. Zecora had a beauty the likes of which Granny had never seen in all her years (and there were many of those!), she was as polite as you could ever ask for, and the way she spoke was almost literally music to the ears.

Granny's punishment for Macintosh's stupid stunt was therefore quite lenient: an entire week of doing everypony's chores (cooking included) and no meet-ups with Zecora for the week. She relented in the 'no visits' rule three days in, however: Macintosh needed to be shown the error of his ways, but it sort of felt like she was punishing Zecora, too.

The green mare gently tapped Macintosh's nose with the handle of the spoon. "We'll make sure she gets a dinner worth remembering. You just worry 'bout fetchin' her here. This day's fer the two've you alone, and we won't leave either of you wantin'. Now fix yer vest and get out there. Ain't proper to keep a filly waitin'."

As it was their 'Half-aversary,' Granny felt it fitting that this event be commemorated: six months together was quite an achievement.

In those six months, Zecora had endeared herself to the citizens of Ponyville as well, dropping her aloof mannerism for a much more open one. Ponyville quickly grew to accept her fully, and her visits — which became more and more frequent as time passed — were always looked forward to. She was no longer a stranger to be feared, but a friend to be welcomed. Beneath Zecora's previously cold exterior lurked a warm heart, and her relationship with Macintosh allowed this personality to emerge and thrive. The two becoming an item was a source of gossip amongst the mares of Ponyville: gossip tinged with more than a touch of envy.

Zecora had visited Cheerilee's schoolhouse one day, impressing the foals with her exotic ways. She told them of her home — the Marengeti — and how she had come to live in Everfree forest: she had been performing a ritual to speak with the spirit of an ancestor, but had accidentally used too much of a certain flower in the special incense that was used to guide the spirit to her. Instead, the ritual ended up sending her away, and she appeared just outside the forest. Being unable to find any of this flower in Everfree and also being uncertain if recreating the accident in the ritual might make things even worse for her, she decided to simply accept her lot and make the forest her new home.

When asked if she missed the Marengeti, she admitted she did from time to time, but the friends she had made in Ponyville made up for it; even at home she had preferred solitude and had no real family. In a way, her arrival outside Everfree was one of the best things to ever happen to her, making an almost entirely new mare out of her. And besides, if she weren't here, how could she have made friends with Cheerilee and her students?

The foals were enraptured.

During lunch, Apple Bloom 'accidentally' let slip the knowledge that her brother was dating Zecora, raising her standing amongst her classmates to no small degree. Even Diamond Tiara was impressed, though she took the greatest of pains to hide this.

Macintosh straightened out his vest as best he could. He'd never quite gotten used to wearing anything other than his standard harness, but Macintosh wanted this to be an extra-special date for Zecora; he wanted this to be an evening that she'd remember forever.

He would ensure that.

Many of their dates took place during the day, but some were early evening, as Zecora loved watching the stars, and star-gazing was how the relationship between the two had started. They commemorated this from time to time by having dinner dates, which they quickly named 'gazing-dates'. Macintosh suggested they have such a date this evening and she readily agreed; these dates were particularly special to her.

This would be quite a bit more than a typical gazing-date, which were much more casual and laid back. A gazing date usually began with a good meal, followed by watching the heavens, your very special somepony by your side. Granny Smith had broken out recipes she hadn't used in a decade just for this one meal; she wanted to see that Zecora only got the best of the best tonight. She deserved it. She was just as dear to the rest of the family as she was to Macintosh, and they wanted to show it.

Half-aversaries only ever come once after all.

Macintosh made his way down the path, being sure not to get his vest dusty: he may not be so comfortable in 'fancy-type' clothes (or clothes at all, really), but the vest he was wearing was handed down to him by his Pa, so he owed it to his spirit to keep it in good condition. Like Applejack's Stetson, it was the only thing of their parents they had other than memories. While he almost never wore the vest, unlike his sister's hat (which she almost never took off) that was no reason not to treat it respectfully.

As Macintosh trotted onwards, he hummed a tune under his breath and was soon whistling happily. It was a beautiful day, he was off to see a beautiful mare and she was going to have an unforgettable night. Why shouldn't he be so happy?

No reason whatsoever.

He reached the outskirts of Everfree and waited for his love to make her appearance. As he waited, his eyes were caught by a rather pretty flower growing from a stump. The blossom was an interesting shade of purple with a silverish highlight. It was the sort of flower that might look good decorating a certain mare's mane. While he was considering the flower, there was the tiniest of rustles. "'Afternoon, Zecora," said Macintosh, without looking up. He heard an extremely faint gasp and Macintosh smiled to himself.

In the beginning of their relationship, Zecora would sometimes accidentally spook him by seemingly appearing out of nowhere. To make amends for this, she taught him the secret of focusing his hearing on one particular point. Macintosh, being generally a quiet sort, found this quite an easy skill to pick up, having nearly reached the point where he could identify a pony by how they trotted. Zecora, however, always seemed capable of hiding her movements with just enough skill to defeat that advantage. Though her sudden appearances had long since stopped surprising him, he felt a tiny thrill of victory for finally managing to catch her in the act. He stopped 'closely admiring' the flower and raised his head to look at her.

"It seems that you've passed my test at last; I've never met one who could do that so fast," replied Zecora with a grin. She cocked her head in curiosity at the stallion's attire. "I must say you look handsome in that dapper vest, but why have you come calling so formally dressed?"

Macintosh said nothing; he simply gave Zecora a wink and a smile and politely led her back to Sweet Apple Acres.

Zecora tried to get an answer from Macintosh as they continued down the path, only to be given a grin and nothing more as a reply. She stopped asking after a short time; the great red stallion was a master of silence, and when he chose to clam up practically nothing would get a peep out of him. If he wasn't going to divulge his secret, she'd have to resign herself to not knowing until he decided to let her.

She soon noticed that some of the trees had three ribbons either tied around their trunks or hanging from branches: one red, one white and the last black. She looked up at Macintosh, who now wore a decidedly smug smile on his face. She gave a sigh of mock exasperation and they soon reached Sweet Apple Acres. Zecora came to a stop and her eyes widened.

Granny Smith, Applejack and Apple Bloom stood just outside the farm gate, awaiting the pair's arrival and all done up in their finest. Granny Smith wore a particularly fetching hat and matching shawl, Applejack's mane and tail were done up in the intricate braid that Granny had sported when she had been Applejack's age, and, for just this one time, she had forsaken her trademark hat. Apple Bloom was wearing a bright red, sparkling bow and was grinning from ear to ear. The house itself was decorated with the three ribbon pattern that she'd seen along the path, short lengths hanging from the eaves of the roof and the frames of windows.

Macintosh turned to Zecora. "I don't know if you're aware, but today's a very special day for you an' me. It's been six months since we first met an' began seein' each other. Six months. A darn impressive feat, an' one that needed celebratin'. An' so we chose to. Took days to set up, even with the help of Applejack's friends. Granny's callin' it a 'half-aversary.' "

Zecora didn't appear to register his words, her mouth practically hanging open as she took in the scene before her. Macintosh continued.

"I love you, Zecora; in fact we all do, an' we wanted to show it. This night — this half-aversary — is for the both of us alone, but mostly for you."

"For me? Truly?" she asked in a small, lightly quavering voice.

Macintosh smiled. "For you. It's true."

He gave Zecora a gentle kiss on the cheek and escorted his guest of honor onward into the Apple home, Granny and his sisters following a polite distance behind.

That evening, Zecora was treated as though she were royalty itself. She wanted for nothing - neither food nor drink nor the gentlemanly attentions of Macintosh. It was perfect. And though the entire family were there, it felt as though it were simply Macintosh and herself alone, as the others took pains to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible. The two were given the entire dining room for themselves and soon dinner began.

Eventually Zecora stepped away from the table, albeit hesitantly and with more than a touch of regret. She was full but sincerely wished she wasn't. She had never tasted dishes the likes of what she was served that evening in her life: a cream soup made from the essence of rose petals and apple blooms which started with the lightest of flavor and slowly strengthened as you swallowed, mashed potatoes with the texture of a cloud, corn slow-boiled in lightly-sugared water and then baked...

And then there were the desserts. Oh, the desserts. There were no words in either language she knew to describe them. Apples and cinnamon and chocolate and ginger along with other spices and fruits came together so perfectly it was as if it were magic.

She wished that she had eaten a bite less so she could eat a bite more, but...

And all that time, Macintosh sat with her, smiling as each new dish elicited a gasp or a sigh of pleasure. Seeing the bliss on Zecora's face was a gift he would treasure; all that mattered to him on this day was her happiness and it pleased him to no end that he and his family were succeeding brilliantly.

And the best was yet to come.

Zecora sought out Granny Smith and practicality blessed her for the feast she had prepared in honor of both herself and her beau. Granny blushed and modestly accepted Zecora's thanks, though she was really just following the recipes of Apples before her. She may have added her own touch here and there, but the praise really belonged to others.

Macintosh appeared outside the kitchen and cleared his throat quietly. "When I set this up, I promised you a gazing-date, and we've still the gazing yet to do. Looks to be a clear night an' it'd be a shame to waste it."

Granny Smith shooed Zecora away with an affectionate grin; there was a table to be cleared and dishes yet to do and Macintosh deserved more attention than she did. With a final bow of thanks, she let Macintosh lead her out onto the porch. The final pink of sunset had faded from the sky and it began to grow dark. The two waited for evening to commence, and raised their eyes to the heavens as the last of the light drained away and the stars made their appearance.

There was an unexpected meteor shower that evening. Macintosh and Zecora soon found their attention fully captured by this rare display, and turned from watching the hanging stars to the falling ones. There were bright flashes from time to time as a meteor would use itself up in a single burst instead of a quick streak of light, and the two made a game of trying to predict where the next falling star would come from, as many were simply caught from the corner of an eye and gone before they could get a clear view. Soon they were nestled together and breathing in tandem as they watched the sky in silence.

Soon enough, though, a yawn escaped Zecora's lips. It had been a full day for her, and one full of wonders as well. She had been shown the greatest of honors, feasted upon delicacies the likes of which had never been tasted, and seen an event even more rare than the sight of the stars in her forest. And it had all been orchestrated by her beloved Macintosh.

But all good things must come to an end, despite how one would wish otherwise.

Though the hour wasn't particularly late, she found that the pure contentment she felt was having a toll on her. It was time to call it a night. At the sound her quiet yawn, Macintosh turned his attention from the sky to Zecora. "Reached your limit for the day, Zecora?"

She reluctantly nodded. "I fear that I feel heaviness within my head. Perhaps it is time to go home to bed."

Macintosh, however, would hear nothing of it. "No. You're almost asleep on your hooves. Stay the night and we can head back tomorrow."

Zecora considered the offer.

Macintosh smiled. "Please. We'd be honored."

Zecora let out another yawn. With a rueful grin, she accepted his offer, and the two re-entered the house.

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, the two began their trip down the path, Zecora practically glowing with joy. Her sleep had been deep and her dreams more pleasant than ever before. Granny Smith bade her farewell with a promise to share some of her recipes from last night's supper, and she, Applejack and Apple Bloom saw Macintosh and her off with a wave.

Soon, she began to hum happily to herself. After a minute, Macintosh joined in and the two weaved their tunes together as they trotted. All too soon they reached the entrance to Everfree and Zecora had to stifle a sigh of disappointment as she made her way towards the forest path.

Macintosh stepped in front of her and shook his head.

Zecora gave him a quizzical look. Macintosh gave her a look of determination in turn and spoke. "After the evening we shared, it wouldn't feel right to me if you just headed off home by yourself. It'd be like this was just another date, and I don't want to tarnish the memory of yesterday with that thought. Please allow me to escort you home. S'the proper thing for me to do, I think." Without a moment's hesitation, Macintosh stepped into Everfree to accompany Zecora back to her hut.

Zecora blinked. Even after all this time, Macintosh still felt extremely uncomfortable entering the forest, despite having been shown safe ways through it. They generally met and parted ways just outside, and yet Macintosh continued on, as sure of himself as Zecora would be. Furthermore, rather than taking one of the shortcuts to her hut, Macintosh took the route he had upon first questing for her. Zecora followed a short distance behind, surprised by his boldness, but trusting the stallion's actions. Macintosh clearly knew what he was doing. They soon reached a small copse of blue flowers and Macintosh spoke up.

"Heh. Poison joke. That's how my 'big adventure' began: with me becoming small!" He laughed and trotted through the flowers without a thought. Zecora had told him that once you had been affected by the pollen of a particular copse of the plant, you were immune to those specific flowers because 'they'd had their fun.' Zecora smiled; she had been the victim of this cheeky plant herself when she had first arrived. There was a plant much like it in the Marengeti, however, and the cure for that affliction worked for poison joke. Unfortunately, it had taken her most of the day to locate the ingredients, and she spent that time with her stripes flashing on and off like a theatre marquee.

He soon stopped at a small stream.

"And there's where I learned of the joke that was played on me. Don't mind admitting that was a shock..." He shook his head and continued onward until he reached a large tree. He looked up at it and smiled fondly. "I was able to get a leg-up on that smoke critter, thanks to this tree. Pretty much saved my life. Well, up to a point, anyway." He gave the weathered tree an affectionate pat with a forehoof before turning and following the path he had taken after bucking the branch off of it. Zecora gave the tree a pat in turn along with a respectful nod. She'd always felt that some of the forest's trees were more alive than they appeared, and this grandfather of a tree had helped her love out of a tight situation.

They passed the driftaway bush. "Bah. Darn berries. Wouldn't have anything to do with blueberries for weeks 'cause'a this bush..." Macintosh gave it a scowl.

Zecora scowled as well and turned to Macintosh. “These terrible plants have brought many a death and robbed many creatures of their final breath. This very bush nearly stole you from me, so I'll dig it up for the sake of safety."

The two continued onward. Soon they came to the glade Zecora's hut inhabited.

"And here's where I showed that critter that some things just aren't meant to be eaten!" He let out a bark of laughter, which quickly faded. "And then I learned that lesson myself. Almost permanently." He had later been told just how close to death he had come because filling his belly had been more important to him than playing it safe. It was still a sobering thought.

"And then I awoke to one of the most beautiful sights in my life, and one that gets more beautiful every time I see it." Zecora blushed and Macintosh grinned.

Zecora, having for the most part been content to simply listen as Macintosh summarised the events that led up to the two becoming the other's very special somepony, spoke up. "Macintosh, dearest, it's become crystal clear that you have some other purpose for escorting me here."

"Yeah guess it wasn't hard to figure that out, especially as we're taking the long way. My actin' like a tour guide while we went on in didn't help me none either, I suppose." He grinned sheepishly.

Zecora waited expectantly, returning to silence in order to let Macintosh speak his piece.

"Six months ago, you'd visited our farm to stay the night and I'd fallen in love with you from almost the second I saw you. That night when we first watched the stars together had been the tiniest nudge I'd needed to make it apparent to me. Then we both found out that you'd felt the same for me all along."

Zecora nodded, smiling. That day had been one of the best of her life.

"And the days since had been as though they were gifts from the Princesses themselves. Our relationship has made better ponies of the both of us."

Zecora nodded again. She had opened her heart to others from that day on; six friends soon blossomed into what felt like six hundred.

"Applebloom practically canters when you pay call, and Granny glows like the sun. As we showed you with the half-aversary, we all consider you part of our family. And that's why I'm here. I've mentioned the past and the present. Now I'd like to talk about the future. Our future." Macintosh sighed. "Bah. That's enough of that. Instead of slowly creeping up on my point, I'm just gonna say what I came here to say. Specifically, what I came here to ask."

Zecora cocked her head.

"It's a simple question, but a hard one for me to ask, all the same. That's the other reason I brought you to your home: to show myself that I had the right to. If I were brave enough to look past my fear of the place, then the time was finally right. "

He carefully lowered himself to his knees, bringing himself eye-level with Zecora. She gave a start, at a complete loss as to what Macintosh was doing. Macintosh lowered his head, cleared his throat quietly and took a deep breath to compose himself. Finally, he raised his head and looked deep into her blue eyes.

"I'm yours. Yours forever and always. I would do anything, dare anything, risk everything if it was for you. You mean more to me than I have words to say, and that will never change."

Macintosh lifted Zecora's left forehoof gently in his own.

"The rest of my life would have no meaning or value if you stopped being a part of it. So the question I wanted to ask you is this: I'm yours, forever and always."

He laid his other forehoof over hers.

"Would you be willing to be mine? Will you...marry me?"

Zecora's eyes went wide and she stepped back slightly, though her forehoof remained between Macintosh's . He remained kneeling and quietly waited. After considering his question a short time, Zecora gave a small smile and stepped forward.

Returning his gaze, she answered: "Macintosh, when I met you, I was mystified. The sight of you lit a spark hidden inside. Through our time together that spark has grown free, fueled by the love between you and me. I wish I'd found sooner the gift that awaited, I wish I'd learned sooner that our love was fated. Each time that we meet, this love burns anew..."

She lowered her head to nuzzle Macintosh's forehoof before raising her glistening eyes to his. Her voice shook ever so gently.

"...I'd be honored to spend all of my life with you. Yes."

Macintosh gently released Zecora's forehoof and slowly got back on his hooves, his eyes still locked on hers. She smiled again and gave him a nod. Macintosh stepped closer toward her and lowered his head. Zecora raised hers in turn and their lips met in a gentle kiss. Without any further words, the two turned and trotted back to Sweet Apple Acres in silence.

Two years later

Seven mares stood in a loose semi-circle at the foot of the bed. Zecora lay upon it, a tired smile on her face. Beside her slept a tiny filly. Her coat was pure white, with light pink, grey-outlined stripes running down her body, her short mane flame red with black and white streaks. She snuggled in closer to Zecora and Macintosh smiled proudly from where he stood beside his wife. The faces of the mares before him — Granny, his sister Applejack and her five closest friends — were all aglow with joy and pride, and there wasn't a dry eye among them.

"Kahndi," he whispered, so as to not awaken the filly or her now dozing mother. His eyes shone, brimming with tears of joy.

"My daughter's name is Kahndi."

Author's Note

And there you have it. Love, adventure, death, life and love again. As the saying goes: "First comes love..."

And Kahndi's bound to have an interesting foalhood. Maybe someone could cover that...?

A huge thank you to q97randomguy and CDRW for pre-reading help.