"Do not worry love of mine, no matter what I will be fine." Zecora looked into my eyes, her own turquoise set watering up. "I must go now Penn, but we will meet again." She wrapped a striped foreleg around my yellow neck, and I took her into my embrace.
"You still haven't told me where you're going."
"To the east of course, and maybe meet a different type of horse," she said as we stepped apart. The zebra had bulging saddlebags slung over her back and under her brown cloak.
"You mean... Somebody like me? Other unicorns?" She nodded. "You'll send a message, right? With an explorer?"
"One year and no more, stop making leaving such a chore. I've told you all of this, now give me a goodbye kiss," she answered, smirking. We kissed each other's cheeks, and she turned away. "Do not fret, Penn, for I will see you again!" she called over her shoulder. With a wave of her hoof, she trotted off into the jungle, glossy green leaves quickly obscuring her form in the shadows.
I don't know how long I stood in the blazing sun and watched where Zecora had vanished into the undergrowth.
"Penn, think this through!"
"It's been a year, and she sends a letter saying she won't be back for another. I'm going after her," I said sharply, levitating several gourds full of potions into my saddlebags. "She needs help. I know it."
The elder zebra sighed with resignation. "Whenever you get your mind set on something, there's no changing it. I raised you and Zecora as my own, as I have for all in the tribe. She was always searching for something, and never told me what. Wanderlust at its finest. When it was her time to leave, I supported her decision. Now you are chasing after her. To see all his children run off, it makes an old zebra very... Tired."
He bit the strap on my bags and cinched it tight. His weathered body, marked in purple runes and symbols, made a few popping noises when he sat down. "But such is the life of an Anoa. The only regret is that we rarely see our children grown." Arching his back, he managed to produce even more pops, groaning with satisfaction before calmly looking me in the eyes. "You love her."
All I could manage in reply was a shameful smile.
He chuckled softly. "You can't fool this old stallion, I know young love when I see it. Why do you think I've been trying to get you out of here?"
"You've been trying to talk me out of it for two hours," I said accusingly. It was true; the past few hours had been nothing but a lecture.
"The same speech I gave Zecora right before she left, if I recall. And like you, I helped her pack," he said smugly. My mouth opened for a reply, but nothing came out. "You forget my task is to see all my children go off and experience the wonders of life, no matter where it takes them."
"I apologize, Anoa." I bowed my head to my elder.
"Young one, even I have forgotten myself at more times than I'd admit," he chuckled. "Are you ready to leave?" I nodded. "I will walk with you to the edge of the village. Do not protest, I am going to get fat if I don't get out more."
"I will go slow, Anoa," I said, opening the bamboo door for him. His dignified, royal gait set a relaxing pace as we walked through the various huts. Banana leaves covering bamboo poles served as roofs, and interwoven bamboo shafts served as walls. Striped colts and fillies played their games along the dirt paths, while the older ones went about their chores and occasionally yelled at the little ones. High above us, an opening in the jungle canopy allowed sunlight to stream in and bathe the settlement with a golden glow.
The elder got a warming smile when he saw a group of children playing hide-and-seek. "I might join them once you're on your way. I can still remember playing hide-and-seek with my brothers on these very paths, with the Anoa breathing down our necks to get chores done. He was a good stallion, but too strict on the young ones."
Before long, we came to the shallow river. Flowing south, it split into two branches and formed a perfect circle around our village. The water was slow-moving and clear, gurgling gently in the morning sun. The jungle on the opposite bank was a vibrant green, as it always was in the middle of rainy season. I had no knowledge on what was beyond the jungle. We'd heard stories from pony and griffon explorers about deserts, forests, oceans, even floating cities and castles carved into the sides of mountains, but to actually find out for myself? My reason for leaving was to find Zecora, but I'll admit part of me was excited to find out what lay beyond the jungle.
"Zecora went to a land called Equestria. I fear I posses no detailed maps of what lies more than a few miles to the east. Just be prepared for anything Penn, think, and you'll be fine."
"Thank you for the advice, Anoa. It's time I left."
"So it is." When I turned to look at him, I found my elder bowing at me. I reciprocated the gesture, and we both rose. "I wish you all the luck in the world, young one. Follow your heart and find Zecora. If you two ever decide to come back, I'll be here, as I always am." We kissed each other on each cheek.
"Thank you. For everything," I said. And with that, I set off. Parting the same glossy green leaves Zecora had done more than a year before, I entered into the jungle. Brown and green vines wrapped their way up giant tree trunks. A lush canopy blocked out the sky, making the land underneath seem dim. Birds and insects flew through the air, all making their respective calls, buzzing and chattering. The undergrowth, starved of light, thinned as I pressed deeper into the forest.
Parrot calls came from overhead, and foliage rustled when I passed. Nothing stayed still in this jungle; every last inch was alive.
Years of wandering the forests helped me hold my bearing. I had gone far off our trails and paths, and felt a small flutter of excitement when I realized this. Maybe this was why Zecora left; exploring, in some way, was fun. Seeing things for the first time, or maybe being the first to see them.
The day wore on, and the animals and insects were starting to disappear with the light. By the time a low rumbling of thunder passed through the trees, it was all but silent. Despite not being much past noon, the canopy was all but hidden in the growing darkness, as if night had come early. When the rain started falling, it was not in drops, but in streams that poured their way off leaves and branches and down the trunks of trees.
I took shelter under a massive root with a family of ground-parrots. The green and purple birds squawked at first, but quieted when they saw I meant no harm. The two colorful chicks got themselves into a wrestling match, playfully tumbling over each other as the parents sat grumpily behind them. I couldn't help but chuckle when the pair rolled under a miniature waterfall and got doused. Zecora would've loved to see this.
Sitting back, I spent the remainder of the day watching rain drench the forest. The water produced a relaxing rhythm, slowly drumming away the time. The parrots eventually huddled together, quietly falling asleep. Taking their lead, I curled up and drifted off, mind wandering on the journey ahead.
When my eyes opened, darkness greeted them. Focusing on my horn, a glow manifested around it, bathing the hollow in a soft white light. I selected a melon from my saddlebag and cracked it open; the sweet fruit satisfied my growling stomach.
The four ground-parrots had left sometime in the night, probably when the rain had stopped. The few feet of ground inside my hole was damp but better than mud. Orange light was filtering its way through the trees. I picked myself up and set off, feeling as though I could swim through the humid air.
Over the next few days, the weather started to dry out. The sun cooked the jungle like a greenhouse during the day, the temperature steadily rising until nightfall brought it down. Zecora wouldn't have given up just because of a little heat. She never did complain; about anything. If something needed to be done, it needed to be done, simple as that. Of course, she'd probably think of a way to make it rhyme, something I always found rather cute.
On the fifth day after the thunderstorm, the afternoon grew to be hotter than the previous days. My water gourds were running low, and the heat had evaporated any leftover pools from the downpour. Rainy season never ended this early, but freak heat waves were known to happen. At the rate I was going through my water, if it didn't rain in a day or two, I'd be facing severe dehydration. Hopefully I could find a cave to ride out the worst part of the heat until I could refill my gourds.
After a few hours more of trudging on, a vine-covered cliff face offered a promising cave. The entrance was jagged, almost a triangle in shape. I walked inside, carefully checking for signs to see if this cave was currently occupied. The insides were cool, if not a bit cramped and smelled like mold, but offered perfect shelter from the heat.
I set my saddlebags down a good ways in from the entrance, where there was still light to see by but cool enough to keep them from drying out. A big part of me wished I was out there, still pushing on towards Equestria, but keeping myself alive was more important.
The floor sloped gradually back towards the darkness. Caves sometimes had their own springs and underground rivers, if there was one back there I could refill and get going again. Moving cautiously, I used my horn to conjure up light. I soon came to a deep pit. Leaning over, I saw nothing but more jagged rock. I thought I heard a faint trickle, and I leaned out further trying to get a better view.
And then I slipped. My hooves scrabbled on the damp rocks, trying to find purchase. The glow from my horn went out as I fell towards the rocky bottom, wincing in anticipation of the impact.
I was very surprised to find myself splashing into cold water. My body froze in shock as I sank in the darkness. And image of Zecora flashed through my head. My hooves scraped the bottom, and I managed to propel myself upwards.
Sputtering and coughing I broke the surface, reigniting my horn. Think Penn, think. I extended my rear legs down, and to my relief they touched the bottom while my head was still above the surface. Now that my drowning problem was solved, I could focus on finding a way up and not freezing to death. Intense shivers started shaking me as I looked up.
It was a ten foot drop to where I was. A few small ropes of black hung down in the corner; Darkweed, we called it. A very hard form of mold that grew like vines in damp, underground places. I'd seen monkeys use them to get around caves before, but they had fingers and thumbs, and weren't putting it in their mouths. Tasting Darkweed was better than dying, though. I walked (feeling very strange on two legs) through the water and bit the vines, also pressing together my hooves on either side. Pulling with my neck, I pressed my hooves together again to stop from sliding back down. Lurching upwards, bite by bite. The taste was like rotten fruit mixed with mud, and I could feel my lungs burning when I inhaled.
Just a little at a time. As I neared the top the mold started to come off the rocks, shifting with each pull. I finally managed to reach my forelegs over the lip and hoist myself up, crawling away on my belly and afraid of slipping back down. I slowly made my way to the entrance, coughing and dripping snot, where the heat I had sought to escape warmed me like a blazing fire.
