A sudden slam jerked Zecora back to reality, and she turned around curiously. Her aggravated expression melted away as she saw the intruder. The yellow filly tossed her pack carelessly into a corner, then plopped herself down at the rustic wooden table.
“Oh Zecora, it just ain’t fair!” the little pony complained, throwing herself on the table dramatically. The zebra, a faint smile on her face, opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off as Applebloom whined again. “Those big ponies are always bossin’ me around, sayin’ I have ta follow rules.” She glanced up, making sure she was eliciting the most sympathy possible from the wise zebra before continuing, “They just wont let me have any fun, Zecora! I bet your foalhood was never this difficult.”
The zebra being addressed didn’t answer immediately; instead, she added a multi-hued berry to a boiling cauldron and checked her worn book before she sauntered over to the table. She shook her head fondly at the naive filly who knew nothing of difficulty.
“Having a squabble with your sister, yes. But I know of hardships you would never guess.”
“Oh yeah? What happened back when you were a foal, anyways?” Applebloom countered with a frown, slightly annoyed that the zebra hadn’t showered her with pity.
Zecora looked down, her head suddenly swimming with images, happy and heart-breaking, from her past. Heaving in a deep breath, the zebra struggled to control her sudden flare of emotion.
“Sit down, little foal, and hear my story. One of laughter, hope, and misery. Since you so demandingly asked, I will show you glimpses of my past” the zebra began, her aqua eyes taking on a faraway look.
~~~
A harsh, angry sun scorched the land below, one known familiarly as Zagarthia. Unaffected by the sun’s sweltering rays, three young zebras raced across the cracked ground.
“Ha, a tortoise runs faster than you Zecora!” a large colt with a black face taunted as he swept by the other galloping filly.
“Oh yeah? I must be one fast tortoise, ‘cause I’m about to beat you!” the filly boasted and willed her legs to move faster. Far behind them, a small foal struggled to catch up, sweat covering her tiny body. The two leading foals narrowed their eyes competitively as they neared Chaunta, their village.
Several village mares all shared looks of dismay when they heard the telltale jeering and pounding hooves approaching. With a flurry of stripes and dust, the young zebras hurtled through the town, leaving destruction in their wake. The villagers grumbled and coughed as the sand settled to reveal the mess. Clay pots lay in pieces on the ground, while carefully stacked piles of crops were now strewn along the dirt path.
“Oh, you know those children, always getting into trouble!” a younger mare joked with a nervous laugh. Her lame excuse was met with an angry glare from the rest of the villagers, and the mare vowed to lecture her daughter later that night. Shaking her head fondly, she began to help an elderly stallion re-organize his wares. Zecora will never learn, will she?
Meanwhile, the three foals had collapsed in a heap in the village center, their bodies drenched in sweat and coated with sand. A yellow-tinged Zecora weakly shoved the colt, her eyes sparkling with laughter.
“Oh my gosh, Taureg! That was the fastest we’ve gone yet! We are so gonna win the Warrior Run!” she bubbled, trying to not appear fatigued.
The larger colt was less successful, and his words were punctuated by heavy pants. “As if! I’m gonna win the Warrior Run, just like I won this race!” Taureg bragged.
Just as Zecora opened her mouth with another retort, the smallest filly, Flina, piped up, “Guys, can you save this argument for a little later? We have bigger problems to worry about.”
The two other foals followed her gaze, only to find themselves looking into the eyes of the largest stallion in Chaunta. He glared at the foals in turn, striking fear into each one of their heart’s.
“Uh...see you later, Zecora!” Taureg stammered, then he dashed away.
“Good luck...” Flina gulped, before charging after the retreating colt.
The remaining filly looked up, her eyes filled with dread. “Hey dad...how’s it going?” she inquired weakly, new sweat beading above her eyes.
The intimidating zebra snorted and turned around, ordering over his shoulder, “Come. We will speak at home.” Zecora cringed with every word he spoke, his booming voice ringing in her ears. She meekly followed him, tail between her legs.
“Sit,” the stallion Ptiwo commanded, launching into a lecture. “I am very disappointed with you. Not only did you skip your crop duties this afternoon, but you wreaked havoc in the village! Did you know that because you failed to cover the rice plants, a fourth of them were scorched, and no amount of water will revive them? Did you even stop to think for one second how your actions could have affected others?
“In your hurry to the village square, you knocked over Elder Swabi’s offering pyre and destroyed the pottery he makes for a living. The ancestors are ashamed of your actions, as am I,” he finished with a dissapointed sigh. As he stalked out of the room, his wife desperately tried to make amends to her teary-eyed daughter.
“Oh Zecora, I’m sure he didn’t mean to be so harsh on you. Besides, old Swabi needed to get off his lazy rump, and cleaning up the mess at least got him moving again,” Bantu offered with a weak smile, hoping to humor her daughter back into good spirits.
The little zebra didn’t even look up, so her mother switched tactics. “My little moyo, heart, listen to me. Your father did not need to be so critical, but I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson. It’s just that he...he is so stressed these days, with the meager rice crops and being a part of the council,” the older zebra consoled, her voice wavering slightly.
Finally, the smaller zebra seemed to acknowledge her words, and softly inquired, “Mom, you just keep making excuses for him. When is he gonna be my real dad, the old, nice one I used to have?” Zecora finished with a sniff.
She recalled memories of him, of laughing as they raced to the watering hole, of playing pretend under the shade of the Bilboa tree, of happiness and love. Now, those were just pictures in her mind. Every day now, he seemed to be more and more paranoid, and increasingly busier. ‘Play’ and ‘Fun’, were words that he had forgotten the meaning of. The walls resounded with his yelling every night, and a permanent scowl seemed to have formed on his muzzle.
Bantu too shared her foal’s pain as she was immersed into a past, a past where two zebras were madly in love, sharing each other’s hopes and dreams. But those dreams had been long forgotten as the rice crops slowly became Ptiwo’s top priority. Becoming part of the council, the goal he had talked about for so long, only meant more work for him now. She couldn’t even recall the last time her husband had spoken kindly to her, offered a compliment, showed any affection. Her daughter had no idea how her mother was feeling now, but years later, when Ptiwo was gone, they would share their emotions
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Bantu replied with a distracted frown, “We just need to give him time, Zecora. Time and love are the best medicines.” The mare slowly ambled away, leaving her troubled daughter alone in the dimming room.
~~~
“Zecora? Zecora!” a voice called from somewhere in the distance, tinny and wavering. Zecora felt as if she was underwater, seeing a yellow filly’s face miles away. When she felt a hoof on her shoulder, she jerked back into reality, her aqua eyes blinking rapidly. She found herself sitting at the table in her hut, tears trickling down her striped face.
Applebloom hugged her tightly and murmured, “I’m real sorry that your dad was like that, Zecora.” The zebra nodded, appreciative for the little pony. The herbalist wiped her eyes quickly and glanced at her colorful wall clock.
“I’m sorry, dear, I did not mean to be a bore. After so long, you surely don’t want to hear more.” The zebra pushed back her wooden chair, expecting the filly to hurry away. Instead, she was halted by a plaintive inquiry.
“Please Zecora...if it’s not gonna make you too sad, I would love to hear more! I never knew ya had such an interestin’ past! I never even thought there was somewhere else ‘sides Equestria,” Applebloom rambled, evoking a warm smile from her zebra friend.
She nudged her chair back to the table and began to speak again, much to the small yellow filly’s delight. “Now I will tell you a slightly happier tale, one where friendship will prevail,” Zecora began, her voice growing more confident.
~~~
The woolen flags fluttered lethargically in the feeble win, while zebras from far and wide gathered below. There were racers from almost every village in Zagarthia prepping for the long run. Zecora, Flina, and Taureg skipped around excitedly, their eyes wide with anticipation.
“This is it! Finally, we’re old enough to run with the older zebras!” gushed Taureg. In his enthusiasm, he collided with a bulky stallion decorated in multi-colored paints. He looked down on the foals with disdain and snorted, annoyed that pipsqueaks like them were allowed to compete with the likes of him.
As he stomped away, the three friends chattered, exhilarated.
“Did you see that? Tyano...looked at us! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this... I touched him! The famous Tyano!” they exclaimed. A few feet away, their mothers were talking amongst each other, exchanging the latest gossip with amused smiles.
Suddenly, the drum sounded, resonating inside everypony. The racers headed towards the starting line while the fans lined up along the sides of the dusty path.
“Welcome to the Warrior Run! As you know, we hold this race every year for the fittest stallions and mares to show off their endurance and speed. Each team has received a map to the finish line and a satchel with food and a cloth to sleep on. You should plan on crossing the finish line tomorrow, so I hope you have planned your route and pace carefully!” The announcer paused and cleared her throat before continuing, “Now, this is all for fun, experience, or glory, so violence is not allowed. You may not-”
“Ugh. Can we just start already? I mean really, we’ve all heard her little speech about a bajillion times already,” Taureg moaned, causing Zecora to snicker behind her hoof.
Glancing with frustration at her friends, Flina scolded, “Guys, come on, this is our first time running this, we kinda need to pay attention to the ru-”
“GO!” shouted the announcer. The crowd roared as the racers cantered away from the start and across the sandy landscape. Already struggling to keep up, Flina shouted her plan as they galloped after the older runners.
“Listen! I’ve calculated the best route for us to go, and the best way to get there!” an already-exhausted filly yelled. “But we can’t keep up this canter for very long! So we’ll sprint for a minute, then run for five,” she explained. Her friends looked at each other incredulously, still sniggering.
“What? Trust me, this is the best way to cover the most ground with the least amount of energy!” she screamed over the pounding of their hooves.
The other two shrugged, then careened away and followed the retreating sound of the other runners. Flina sighed, disheartened by the her friends’ unwillingness to follow her well-thought-out plans or even wait for her. She was almost a full year younger than them, and had come nowhere near to hitting her growth spurt. The tiny filly didn’t care if her friends disregarded her procedure, she was going to stick to it, and slowed to a loping run.
Meanwhile, Taureg and Zecora galloped blissfully onwards, having no sense of direction other than following the dust cloud raised by the other racers in the distance. The wind cut through their striped manes and whipped around their lean bodies. Adrenalin coursed through them, each one pushing themselves to the limit.
Racing in the Warrior Run, even if they knew they would not win, had been their goal ever since they watched their first one as toddlers. Every year, they would watch on the sidelines in awe, wishing with every fiber of their being that they too could speed to the finish line alongside the older zebras. Racing had slowly taken over their lives, and it was all they could talk about as their first time participating approached. Taureg, Zecora, and and a weary Flina would tear around outside the village for hours a day, much to their parents’ dismay.
The duo had been ecstatic when they had been accepted into the race, babbling on in their excitement for hours after they received the news. Now, they were truly ‘living the dream’, though ‘running the dream’ seemed more accurate. Though their hearts and hooves were pounding, they blazed onwards, the thought of the filly they had left behind not even crossing their minds.
While Zecora and Taureg had extreme endurance, they still could only run at their top speed for a few minutes. Slowing gradually, they eased into a medium-paced canter. They had no energy left to utter a single word and chugged along in silence. Harsh, angry beams of sunlight scorched them without mercy as they ran.
After another half hour of the slower pace, Zecora managed to sputter out a few words.
“Water...think I remember...on the map...go east?” she gasped, her lungs heaving from the effort. The colt simply nodded in response and turned towards the still-rising sun. The foals pushed onwards as thoughts of doubt began to creep into their heads. How close was the stream they had seen earlier on the map? Would they even have enough energy to make it there? Most importantly, where would they go from there?
~~~
“Oh Zecora, this is so dramatic! Do they die?!” the little filly exclaimed with wide eyes. Zecora raised an eyebrow at Applebloom, making her feel very sheepish. “Uh...sorry. This is just so...intense! Anyways, you can continue.”
Zecora cracked a small smile, then plunged back into the past.
~~~
While the turkey vultures swooped lazily overhead, a tiny zebra trotted on the dusty earth, her eyes glimmering with determination. Flina’s perseverance stemmed not from a will to win, since running this race had never been her goal, but from a need to prove herself. She was tired of scrambling after her friends all the time, tired of being treated like a baby foal, tired of being looked down on. She would show them yet!
With the map, food, and cloth in her satchel and a knack for calculations, she was positive she would get to the place they had previously agreed to camp at before the other two. Shaking selfish thoughts out of her head, she focused on trying to keep her pace steady and route correct. As the sun rose higher in the faded blue sky, she quickened her pace, also turning towards the stream.
Only a few hundred pony-lengths away, two weary zebras plodded on the same cracked dirt. Suddenly, in a new-found burst of energy, they galloped towards a hazy, shimmering patch of blue.
“If this is a mirage...I might...pass out!” panicked the larger colt, letting Zecora overpass him. She rushed ahead to find out. Craning her neck and squinting her eyes, she searched for the stream they so yearned for. She wheeled around with an excited grin, nodding her head in response to Taureg’s expectant look. The two plunged happily into the shallow, muddy stream, soaking their already sweat-drenched coats.
Zecora and Taureg immersed their heads into the water, guzzling down as much murky water as they could. After they had rested for a total of two minutes, Zecora set off again, motioning for Taureg to follow. He sidled up to her with reluctantly, then gazed back at the stream longingly.
“Look, I don’t know about you, I know we are not anywhere near the rest of the racers. So if we keep up a steady pace, and follow the stream, we should get to the site we picked out on time, I think,” Zecora explained as she trotted. It slowly dawned upon the two ponies that the filly who had picked out the site, their best friend, had been absent for hours.
They shared a panicked look before Taureg offered, “Uh, about Flina...I’m sure she’ll meet us at the site, right? I mean, she has the best sense of direction and all.” The filly nodded in nervous agreement and resumed her quick pace, Taureg falling into the ryhthm by her side.
Little did the two friends know, Flina had been behind a wind-weathered boulder, eavesdropping on their entire exchange. While she was cross with her friends for their lack of concern, she still wanted to prove herself, and needed to quickly work out a plan.
Luckily for Zecora and Taureg, the location they were spending the night at was near the stream, which widened into a river as it snaked through the plain. She decided to follow the route she had originally plotted, which would mean she would get there almost an hour before her friends did.
Once the pair had left, she crept forward and lapped up the brown water, her nose wrinkled in disgust. After all the misery they were putting her through, the colt and filly were going to owe her big time.
The day sweltered on, the sun crawled along sluggishly, and the three zebras trudged on. Zecora and Taureg followed the winding, expanding stream with an erratic pace. They would force themselves to sprint for almost a full minute before reducing their speed to near-walking for a much longer amount of time.
Though Flina was small, her carefully regulated pace kept her well ahead of her older friends. She felt almost giddy at the thought of seeing her friends faces when they saw her, little weak Flina, resting at their overnight camp.
As the day slowly ebbed away, the pair of zebras began to look for the distinctive rock outcropping that marked the site they had planned to spend the night. They knew better than to roam the dusty land at night. No matter how familiar anypony was with the land or how experienced they were with navigation, the night was ruled by gruesome creatures of folklore alone.
“Taureg...?” Zecora broke the silence with her inquiry. Her friend nodded in order to save his breath; he was more tired than he was letting on. Taking that as a green light, Zecora began to ramble, “Do you suppose Flina will be...mad at us? I mean, she said she was fine with catching up with us, since she can’t keep our pace, but....I just feel kinda guilty. What if she doesn’t meet up with us? What if she’s lost out there? What if-”
She was cut short as Taureg slammed a hoof over her mouth. “You’re just thinking of this now? It’s been bugging me all day, actually...” Taureg admitted, guilt worming it’s way through his heart. “We kinda left her in the dust, no pun intended,” he offered with a wry smile.
Zecora glared at him and rolled her eyes, so he quickly apologized, “Sorry, that was dumb. But seriously, we left her behind, and we didn’t even care. What kind of friends are we? Terrible ones...” he said, answering his own question.
Before Zecora had a chance to agree, he launched into a proposal, “How about this: we wait until the moon is halfway up, and if she isn’t at camp by then, we’ll go look for her.” His confident, assuring tone revealed none of his fear of the night and the creatures that inhabited it.
Zecora, secretly feeling just as worried and scared as he did, masked her apprehension with certainty. “Yeah, sounds like a plan!” she agreed. While the plan was highly impractical, it reassured both zebras and gave them new motivation to get to the site as fast as possible. Overhead, the sky was smeared with a crimson red as the sun began to set.
A pure alabaster moon lit the landscape, the zebras’ coats illuminating in it’s glow. Gradually, the duo saw the distinctive rock rising in the distance. At this point, they were barely trudging along, and the thought of resting lifted both their spirits. They neared the enormous boulder with leaden hooves and bursting lungs.
Through their half-shut eyes, they found themselves looking at the most unusual sight. A rugged cloth had been flung over an outcropping of the rock, creating something like a tent. Zecora and Taureg stared at each other as possibilities raced through their mind.
“Do you suppose...?”
“No way...no way!” the colt suddenly exclaimed as a diminutive zebra foal sauntered out of the shelter. “Flina!” the older two cried in unison, forgetting their exhaustion and racing over to her. They pelted her with questions and apologies, but she simply shook her head and motioned for them to sit down. The two obliged happily and settled down next to the rock, grateful for the shade it provided.
Ignoring their curiosity, she rummaged through the satchel, pulling out two cobs of dried corn and a hoof-full of sorghum, a sand-colored grain. Her two friends gratefully accepted the food and tucked in, the sound of munching replacing their clamoring. When they had quieted sufficiently, Flina began to recount her little adventure.
She explained how she had followed the original path, while they had gone the long way, putting her here almost two hours before they had arrived.
“You guys must have really slowed down! By my calculations, you should have arrived 1.7 hours ago,” she said with an inquisitive tone. The response she received was a sheepish shrug, as the others refused to admit their lack of endurance.
“Well anyways...well, the thing is...I don’t wanna complain, but you guys did kinda leave me behind. It hurt, actually, how little concern you showed for me and where I was...” she trailed off, scuffing her hooves in the dust.
She smiled gratefully as her two friends rushed towards her, showering her with apologies and hugs.
“We’re real sorry Flina! We were so...wrapped up in what we wanted to do, we sorta...forgot about you.”
The undersized zebra hugged them back, forgiveness coming easily. “Apologies accepted. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m pooped.” Zecora and Taureg nodded enthusiastically and raced into the shelter, falling asleep in just minutes.
“See you in 10 hours and 21 minutes!” she chirped as she followed them and settled down for the night.
Two bleary-eyed zebras glared at a third, smaller zebra, their faces still clouded with sleep. While all they could utter were groans, Flina was bouncing around, preparing a meager breakfast out of leftover sorghum and water she had collected earlier that morning.
Zecora managed a grimace as her friend mashed the grain and water together on a rock, the unappetizing goo spreading over the stone.
Taureg pushed the other foals out of the way, impatient with their hesitation to eat the mush.
“Ugh, you guys are sissies.” He began to lap up the pale substance, keeping a straight face. The fillies hesitantly took a taste, and realizing they needed the sustenance, ate their fair share.
“Ok, now that we ate,” Flina declared, wiping her muzzle sloppily, “We should start heading towards the finish line. If we keep up the pace I had originally calculated for us, we should get there in about....5 hours.” Her friends opened their mouth to protest, wanting to go faster than the little filly’s planned pace, then remembered what had happened yesterday, and nodded instead.
“You lead the way, Flina,” insisted Taureg with a smile. Much to Flina’s delight, Zecora also agreed to have Flina be the leader. The little zebra tried to contain her excitement, but to no avail. She began to bounce ahead, humming a tuneless song. Her friends shared a grin, feeling new-found gratitude for their younger friend.
In an ironic turn of events, Flina was now significantly ahead of her friends. Since her pace had been slower and more regulated the day before, she had exponentially more energy than Taureg or Zecora. The sound of a cheering crowd could be heard faintly in the distance, so Flina raced back to her friends.
“Come on guys, full out sprint! We’re almost there!” she encouraged before picking up her pace. The older zebras began to gallop, but this time, they made sure to control their speed so they were parallel with the small zebra.
“Come on, let’s finish this together!” Zecora shouted over the crowd with a huge smile. Beaming ecstatically, the trio roared across the finish line, fireworks going off inside their heads.
~~~
Applebloom, who had been on the verge of tumbling off her chair in anticipation, was now prancing around the room.
“That was the best story ever! When you crossed the finish line together...that was the best!” the filly exclaimed with an ear-splitting grin. To Zecora’s surprise, she found herself in the embrace of the yellow pony. “Thank you for tellin’ me all this! But I really gotta get home, my sis is expectin’ me to be back by dinner,” the filly said as she bounded out the door.
“Thanks again!” she shouted, then poked her head back into the doorway. “Oh, and if it’s Ok with you, I wanna come back and hear all about the rest of your life! Thanks thanks thanks!” Applebloom bubbled, hugging Zecora one last time before dashing out the door.
Zecora shook her head fondly and watched the filly scamper away. Sharing her experiences for the first time with another pony had made her feel almost peaceful inside.
“Caring Applebloom, so close to my heart, you saw just a glimpse, just the start.”
