//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: Facts // Story: Observation and Protection // by Stillmatic //------------------------------// Observation and Protection Chapter 6: Facts By: Stillmatic “If it’s hostile and dangerous, kill it. If it’s dangerous, but not hostile, go around it. If it’s hostile, but not dangerous, ignore it. If it’s neither, you probably have larger problems to worry about, so get to it. Remember, don’t waste bullets on something that can’t or won’t bother to hunt you down.” – Loner’s Guide to the Zone, Survival Tip # 22 The air, being cold and damp, was a factor in waking up the sleeping zebra on the ground. Despite having become used to the diverse weather in the Everfree that disregarded seasons, the chilly wind blew in through the enclosed space and warped around, making Zecora stir further. The process was slow, but she eventually returned to reality and away from the nightmare that plagued her. It was of a creature that stalked on two legs, capable of running at her speed and bringing her down to a state of unimaginable weakness. She shuddered at the terrorizing dream that seemed so real. The large, turquoise eyes opened fully now, looking around lazily in slight wonderment as to how her recent bouts of sleep-walking managed to drag her into a cave of all places. She shivered again, nearly cursing the early morning wind and spotted her supply satchel nearby. Though feeling incredibly well-rested, there was an abnormal stiffness in her body as well, and something worthy of notice was seen as she inspected her joints. Across her once pristine, gray coat, was matted down and smeared with shades of red, ruining it. It took a few moments to register in her mind, but once she realized what it was that covered her chest, the herbalist reeled, kicking her way back against the wall, as if it would make the marks disappear. Zecora gagged, fiercely clinging to her right to hold down her last meal and forced it all down, hyperventilating at the sight. Truthfully, living in the Everfree Forest usually meant watching the carnage and hunting that went on, day by day, but she was never close enough to witness the blood being spilled on herself. Her ears flapped down in worry. The liquid had to have come from somewhere, and her body wasn’t wounded in the least. Her line of sight drifted to the left until the source become apparent, lying against the wall. It was true, then. There was no vivid nightmare, it all had actually happened. From what she could tell, the creature that was both her capturer and savior was sitting on the ground, back against the wall and unmoving. A tainted smell, some sort of sickening mix between metal and stomach acid, wafted into her muzzle, forcing it to wrinkle in response. A look at its chest made the perpetrator obvious. Vomit covered the area well, bringing a tan color to an otherwise drab mixture of others. The skin (or what seemed to be the skin, she couldn’t accurately tell) was torn in several places over the body, from the shins to the abdomen and arms. Blood leaked freely, already caking the floor with its red tint. Zecora’s heart beat faster, with her hyperventilating dying only a fraction in her effort to quiet down. It wasn’t apparent, but a somewhere within her mind, she felt as though a small, blue bar with dozens of notches lowered significantly, still raising and lower with each movement. The zebra approached the body carefully, the only noise coming from her hooves gently brushing against the dirt and her breathing. Her arrival wasn’t much to speak about, but as she craned her head forward in attempt to hear any sort of air exchange, there was something else that caused her to stop in her tracks. Eyelids opened, revealing tired, brown eyes. The lackluster spheres darted to her immediately, but settled down as they registered her. Zecora swallowed a lump in her throat, hoping it wasn’t obvious. Unfortunately, it was, and the creature before her gave a look before snorting lightly. It reached forward, wincing as it bent to reach something on the other wall of the cave. She looked, seeing what looked like a small package, with pink and blue pills protruding outwards. Its arm fell to the side, hanging limply. “Would you please get that for me?” It spoke. It actually spoke to her, and in a surprisingly friendly manner, though desperate. She trotted over to the package, looking over her shoulder several times to make sure it wouldn’t sneak-attack her while she was turned. What the herbalist saw, however, was quite different. Whatever this animal was, it was close to death. Blood still seeped out, and more interestingly, its dirtied, brown hair was falling out in certain places. Her eyes widened at the sight, but she grabbed the package in her mouth and returned it as professionally as she possibly could in such a surreal situation. Zecora, a wise and amiable spirit, knew should could easily run away, leaving it behind. Yet, she also knew that doing so would go against everything she ever prided herself on. She stayed. The creature took the package from her mouth and broke it open, releasing the three pills inside and removing a hidden syringe within. It took a few deep breaths before rolling up what was revealed to be a clothing sleeve on its arm upwards, allowing for more ease of access. It grunted in disdain, which she assumed was caused by the fact that the veins seemed nearly nonexistent due to the low blood pressure. Several slaps to the injection spot revealed it well enough that the needle was able to find a nice vein to push an unknown liquid into. Zecora felt the need to intervene, but restrained herself when it raised a hand. It pulled the syringe away and threw it to the ground before opening its own satchel and removing what looked like a metal can. Assuming it was hungry, she sat down on her haunches and continued her observation. A click and a hiss came from the object as the three pills were downed along with some liquid from within the can. It emptied the rest into its mouth after it made sure the pills went down and tossed the can. Placing hands onto the ground, it lifted itself up, wincing in pain as it slumped against the wall and huffing loudly from the exertion. No sooner had it reached two-thirds of its height had it fallen to the dirt in a heap. “I… I hate radiation poisoning… and bleeding too…” Zecora swallowed her fear and crept closer before resting a hoof reassuringly on its shoulder, “You’d be wise to lie back and rest, for your health, it’s best.” It twitched, but didn’t turn to her, “… You can actually talk… How is that?” Such a question undoubtedly seemed odd to her ears, but she answered regardless, “A zebra I am, but you-“ “Are a man.” He said, finishing her rhyme for her. “How can a zebra talk? There are no zebras in the Zone… The only thing I can think of is those extinct Tarks… And those were just carnivorous and reanimated horses.” Zecora’s muzzle curled down slightly, “What is all this you speak of, and why do you spill so much of your own blood?” “It wasn’t like I really had a choice.” The man muttered. “The bleeding should die down soon, and I’ve already taken a super-coagulant.” “That response didn’t answer my first question, and doing so would be the best course of action,” The zebra replied warily. He turned to her and lied back against the wall, staring at her and panting lightly, “You should explain where I really am first. I can already tell this isn’t the Zone, so just where exactly did me and the rest of the ISG end up?” Realizing that the stubbornness she was receiving wouldn’t subside any time soon, Zecora sighed and took the initiative to properly establish contact with a species she had never encountered before. Somehow, she felt as though this would become a very harrowing, stressful task. “I know not of what you speak of, ‘man’, but I can provide the information you demand.” She cleared her throat, “The land you now reside in is Equestria, a country of ponies-a-plethora. Nothing such as you has ever been seen before, so please forgive my stares and not become sore.” He nodded, “It’s all fine, just continue.” “We are in the Everfree Forest, a place of danger and mystery that demands you be cautious. Few ponies can reside here without losing their nerve and running to what the find dear. As you can see, it has gained quite a bit of infamy.” Zecora could very faintly see the confusion. Her explanation was far too easy to comprehend, so she assumed it was merely her rhyming that threw the creature off. The confusion quickly turned to thoughtfulness, “It couldn’t possibly be any worse than the Red Forest… What were those things? I’ve never seen any sort of wolf like that before, let alone one made out of wood.” “That creature covered in filth was known as a timber wolf.” “… Timber wolf… Because it’s made out of wood…” She nodded. “They can bite pretty hard.” “Yes, I noticed your cuts. I advise that they be treated before getting up.” The man shrugged slightly, “If I had any bandages, I would, but I didn’t bother bringing much with me other than what I had left over from the day before.” A bright idea hit Zecora, though she became slightly reluctant to fulfill it. Forcing herself to reach into her satchel, she removed several homemade bandages constructed from dried leaf pastes and set them next to the creature expectantly. He looked between the her and the wraps at least twice each. “… What am I supposed to do with leaves?” Zecora frowned, not enjoying his tone, “These are special bandages, creature, meant to help your wounds heal faster.” He sighed in resignation and got to work, thinking over his situation as an unknown creature watched him in curiosity. Things were definitely not going in his way at all today, though things seemed to be looking up a bit. Zecora continued observing, and found he knew how to wrap his wounds quite well. While there was still a tension, it seemed to simmer down as a mutual silence filled the cave. “So, you haven’t seen him then?” Edgar Vicks was a man of short patience, so when he was presented with what was essentially the same question multiple times, he found himself irritated. Doctor Diederich had been pestering him every other hour regarding the supposed head of the security team that disappeared the day before. He didn’t blame her that much though, even he found it a bit troubling to know that the person who was in charge suddenly left, only for the second-in-command to be struck with psi-shock. On top of all that, an ISG Operator had his entire head bitten off by some strange, new creature. He found it too odd. None of the ex-stalkers said they had ever seen something like what they killed before. It was large, terrifyingly so, and honestly resembled the textbook lion if it weren’t for the incredibly large, bat-like wings and scorpion stinger. That’s what seemed to trouble all of the members of the security team the most. For reasons he didn’t understand, they seemed to have some sort of mix between fear and extreme hatred for anything regarding scorpions and their appendages. When he asked why, his only given answer was something regarding a group called the “Renegades.” “Well?” Vicks groaned, breaking away from his thoughts, “No, I haven’t. Why would I have seen him now and not twenty minutes ago? Why do you keep asking? If anything, he’s probably dead out there by now.” “Don’t say that!” Diederich admonished, “He’s supposed to be guarding us and we’ve already lost one permanently and other temporarily.” He rolled his eyes and pulled the zipper upwards on his SSP-99M Scientific Suit. It was no surprise he didn’t know the actual difference between the varying suits other than color, but this variation was supposedly used by guards on scientific expeditions. The bright, green color was less than desirable, but from what information he could scrounge up about it, it was far more durable and much more inclined to hold out against attacks of any kind. It made him wonder what exactly the U.N. thought they would be getting into that would need such expensive commodities. Obviously, if they were willing to pour more money into their protection than to the scientists who already occupied the Zone, something was off. Vicks pulled the curtain helm on and fastened it before presenting himself with open arms, “Well?” Diederich sipped her tea and sat back down, “You look like a bright green garbage bag with a shiny piece of tinfoil at the top.” The reflective surfaced prevented her from seeing his grimace, “Really, you’re oh so hilarious. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to look around a bit after checking on that giant bird-thing.” “Don’t stray too far from the bunker. We haven’t seen many anomalies near here, but that doesn’t mean one won’t pop up suddenly. And mutants, too.” “If I needed someone to nag me, I’d have brought my mother along.” Diederich shrugged her shoulders and returned to testing a sample retrieved earlier. Vicks continued out of the bunker, passing a towering Okaidy, who seemed far too invested in watching Suslov’s Droplets artifact bounce around on a table. While it was interesting to see some rock move about with no external influences, it definitely got boring after the first five minutes. A shake of the head and large door opening later, the arrogant Englishman was outside and nearing a cage. Two guards were posted nearby, remaining surprisingly stoic despite the large danger behind them. “Anything, yet?” The member on the left thumbed back towards the cage, “Moves around a bit, but not much else. It seems to keep to itself for the most part.” Vicks hummed in response, focusing more on the strange creature huddled towards the back of the cage. Large, feathery wings folded over above itself, casting shadows over the actual body and preventing him from seeing what was truly there. Sharp, glowing eyes of yellow stared at him hatefully, but he didn’t recede one bit. After all, his mother seemed no different than this thing did to him, and he survived eighteen years of living with that “harpy.” He smiled softly at the memories but shifted closer. The scientists pulled a tape recorder to the curtain helm, hoping the screen wouldn’t distort his voice much, “Subject is reclusive and chooses to remain in the back of the cage, covering itself with large, feathered wings. Whether the thing is doing it in fear or-“ The creature lunged forward, slamming itself against the bars and clutching them with its claws, “FEAR?! You won’t know what fear really is until I get to you, you dumb ape-thing!” Vicks landed backwards roughly in surprise, hitting the ground hard. Flanked by two security personnel, one aimed its weapon menacingly at the creature while the other dug an arm under his shoulder and dragged him back while still keeping his firearm up. Vicks himself had a Walker P9m up and directed forward, ready to utilize without fear of the consequences. While he was caught off guard, he couldn’t consider himself all that afraid of what he saw. It was, essentially, a large turkey with claws, as he would put it. “Subject,” he continued, “is moody and liable to explode in anger.” The avian somehow gritted its beak, “Moody? You-“ It was now seething in anger, “You… You stupid… whatever you are. You don’t got a reason to keep me here, so lemme out!” Vicks, genuinely interested, held the recorder out, “How can you speak?” It narrowed its eyes, “Listen, bub, I’m not an idiot. I can speak just fine and I don’t need you thinking I’m dumb.” “I never said that. What are you?” The bird-like creature backed up slightly, pulling its claws off the cage bars, “A griffon, what’s it to you?” Vicks paused and reached into his pocket, only to remember he was wearing the scientific suit. He muttered a few words, recalling how he had a small patch that he was planning on sewing onto his laptop case. It was of a griffon’s outline on a crested shield that his sister gave him a few weeks prior, only to sit around in a pocket and suffer a few washes. The Englishman turned his attention back to what was apparently a creature of myth. “Griffon? Griffons aren’t real. They’re just myths.” “And what are you?” “Human.” The avian seemed to be smirking, however small, “Who’s the myth now, huh? Humans are bedtime stories.” It was at this point that Vicks’ interest truly became piqued. So, the conversation continued on for a few minutes more, until an interruption occurred, one that would prove to be a different experience entirely for the man. Wexler, for it was worth, like to watch things and see them play out in front of him. This is what was happening as what he had been told was a Pseudodog fought viciously against two invading creatures that were unrecognizable at first glance. Wolves, seemingly made from scraps of wood, were showing great amounts of hostility towards a Pseudodog that refused to leave its position within the forest, though already wounded considerably. For whatever reason, it stuck to its spot and seemed intent to fight until the very end, which would most likely result in its death. Though, the mutant itself was no pushover during the whole debacle for sure, and it tore off parts of the wolf-like creatures easily. This would leave it open, however, and usually allowed for an attack to be made by the other. Wexler heard the sounds and proceeded out of the hole in the fence, ignoring the two guards that escorted him without a word. They too watched with interest, or some desensitized amusement, and let the battle continue until the Pseudodog finally collapsed on the ground, whining for a few seconds. This inevitably led to its throat being bit out by the sharp teeth of the wolves. Wexler sat on a rock, fingers intertwined and supporting his chin, “Get rid of them.” The guards obliged and opened fire upon the wolves that were a mere five meters away. They were gunned down quickly, crumbling into piles of sticks and other debris. All of this seemed to catch the attention of another member of the ISG, a scientist whose attitude was less-than-stellar in most regards. Finding his way through as well, Vicks settled against the fence and tilted his head slightly to get a better view without moving forward. Wexler glared icily at him, but it wasn’t noticed. The American finally caught what was captivating the other scientist, hearing what sounded like yipping and whining. Vicks slowly moved forward, one hand clutching a pistol as he moved towards the bush the dead Pseudodog laid next to. Moving away the branches revealed a single thing to him: a puppy. More importantly, a Pseudodog puppy, one that immediately pawed itself away from him and the harsh sunlight of the clearing. He wasn’t exactly sure what to feel at the moment, yet he reached out regardless, ready to pick up the small pup. His hands froze as something whizzed by, striking the puppy in the ear and tearing a hole straight through the tip. In a moment of instinct, Vicks snatched up the mutant and flipped around, fumbling with the creature that scrambled around in his arms. Neither of the guards so much as lifted their weapons, leaving only a very irritated Wexler standing between them with his Walker outstretched. The American’s face twitched several times, a deep scowl cut across it. “It’s a mutant. Put it down.” Vicks tightened his grip, “No.” After seeing the other scientist narrow his eyes, realization hit him. “Wait… What happened to your stutter?” Wexler flinched slightly, still holding the weapon, “All better. Either you kill it or I do.” “Just try it, Americunt.” “Should’ve expected some bleeding heart acts of compassion from some British faggot. You don’t even know what you’re doing. You’re putting at risk-“ “At risk? It’s a bloody puppy, you stupid inbred!” Both ISG guards turned, the crunching of twigs and leaves tripping their senses. Their barrels met a familiar face, who grunted in pain and shoved them away. Chason stood wearily, walking-stick in hand and some sort of zebra by his side. His suit was torn heavily with bandages visible from underneath. The tranquilizer rifle was strapped to his back, waiting to finally be put back into the armory. He scanned over the scene in half a second, already knowing what occurred. “Pseudodogs, if that’s what you’re talking about,” he began, pointing a finger at the puppy, “don’t carry disease. They’re immune to even rabies, not that they can effectively transmit anything. They actually make good companions.” Wexler clicked his tongue, not bothering to hear anymore. He left through the hole and headed back inside of the bunker, leaving the others to stay where they were. Vicks stared down at the mutant that tumbled around in his arms, “People actually… keep these as pets?” “Yes. But I’m not sure if you want to keep it. They grow to adulthood in…” he seemed to be wracking his brain, “… I think it was a bit over a week.” “A week? That can’t be right, dogs take months to become full-sized.” Chason started towards the fence, “A dog of the Zone works in mysterious ways.” He nodded forward at the zebra by his side, “Come on, there are a few questions I’d like to ask, and I’m sure the others have some as well.” Zecora nodded, “As you wish, human. Though I hope this doesn’t lead to any ill action onto a simple shaman.” After a short and convincing response, both headed towards the bunker. Chason greeted and waved off several other Operators, and some seemed to become uneasy around the equine. He knew all too well why, and anyone who was around in the Zone long enough to remember that reason felt chills run up their spine. While the Zone of Alienation held a marvelous amount of diverse and unique life, many species eventually died out and faded from existence. More likely than not, his new acquaintance reminded them of one specific mutant that was the bane of stalker life so many years ago. Vicks shrugged off the speaking zebra, already having experienced a conversation with something far more interesting. He looked down at the puppy in his arms and back at the mother nearby. It was almost saddening, but he didn’t care all that much for it. However, the young dog he was holding was a different story entirely. Whether it was some sort of deep, hidden feelings of seeing a vulnerable youngster or just his emotions acting unusual, he still felt something. The need to protect what was actually quite hideous was no less than bewildering to him, but he still tightened his grip regardless. He followed Chason and Zecora, stopping near the dead campfire while the others headed inside. It was fair to say that Zecora, being from a land of lush plains, bright days, and simple yet cultured architecture, was amazed at what she saw. Beyond the tall, metal fence was something else entirely. Massive objects protruded from the ground, settling themselves in and jutting out. Towers sprung upwards, giving the humans (as she learned to call them) a view of the nearby area. What she could only describe as building were scattered about, with more of the bi-pedals moving between them. She received the odds looks, yes, but her awe left her too floored to feel untrusted. Chason limped forward, putting more and more effort into finally getting towards the metal base they had placed for them. He passed by the vehicle station, seeing the beige BTR reflect some sunlight through the several holes decorating the station’s exterior. Eventually, he arrived and moved to open the door, only for it to swing open and ram into his face, specifically his nose. He felt the bone displace along with some blood and he fell back, landing on the ground groggily. Pain was a primary factor in him seeing spots, and his force of will was the only thing keeping him from passing out from exhaustion. “Oh, I apologize for that.” A dark man stood over him, sunlight preventing the veteran from seeing who it was, “I didn’t expect to see you alive. I also apologize for that as well.” Okaidy reached down, large hands grasping Chason’s nose. The smaller man gasped in pain for a brief moment until he felt the fingers snap his nose back into place. The Tourist felt queasy but remained awake enough to ask a question. “Did they teach you that in medical school?” The African responded as he pulled the Slav upwards, “They taught it to me in the LRA.” Chason became confused, “I thought you said you were from South Africa?” “Not originally, friend. Another story for another time, however. And even though you seem to know more than what I’d expect from a person born in a small village, I won’t further this discussion. Have a good day.” And with that cryptic response, Okaidy went onto other business around the area. Chason dropped the stick, leaving it outside as Zecora tailed behind. The cautious zebra treaded lightly into the bunker, marveling at the structure. Metal-working was a fairly unused skill from her homeland, yet this entire abode was made of the substance. She could only wonder who exactly she was dealing with here, and how advanced their technology was over her own. The human stopped, and she ran into his lower-back before he turned his head half-way. “Wait here, there’s something I have to take care of.” She simply nodded and watched him go through a doorway. Chason threw his backpack off onto his bunk and tiredly undressed from his tattered suit. After struggling with a broken zipper and being forced to cut open his suit, the man threw on a pair of work boots, jeans, and an olive-green turtleneck. They were plain clothes, but they did everything he needed of them. He exited the room and nodded towards the zebra, who quickly got up and fell into step with him. Her ears flapped down as the screech of him opening the bulkhead filled the air. “I wish someone would oil this thing already,” he remarked. “It would make this much less disturbing.” “I must admit, your use of metal is interesting, but I never considered being in it.” Chason stepped through the doorway, “We’ve come a long way.” As they entered the main laboratory, the unlikely duo caught sight of three different scientists, with only Dr. Diederich actually working. Kalancha and Suslov stood off to the side, chatting over some tea and leaning their backs against the wall. Their eyes instantly turned to Chason as he walked in, both surprised and relieved to see he was still alive. Then they saw what looked like an inaccurately colored, disproportionate zebra trotting in from behind. Docent Suslov felt the tea spill from his mouth, landing right back into his mug. Kalancha’s face, one that was normally kind, was stoic, “I see… Interesting specimen, young man. I’ve never seen a Tark of that size or color.” Long before most stalkers had entered the Zone, the first few were left in unimaginable situations of desperation and hardship, almost always accompanied by misery and failure. These brave souls who ventured where no human had ever gone before constantly ran into mutated animals of amazing breeds. One such animal was originally a regular, wild horse living its life in the fields. This all changed following the Second Disaster, and as far as anyone knew, all the horses within the Zone died. Though, the energy of the Zone did its work, twisting and resurrecting these wild beasts and contorting them into ravage machines of hostility. Tarks, as they were known by the early stalkers, soon became the scientific mystery officially known as Equus Diabolus, though this was an early attempt at naming what was merely a rumor at the time. The Tarks were semi-aggressive omnivores with hunched backs, large incisors, and a blaringly irregular body. After far too many stalkers were slain by these beasts specifically, it was then decided that all faction lines would dissolve in a temporary bid to wipe out the supernatural equines. The plan worked, and large hunting parties cleared the nests of the Tarks, leaving nothing left in their wake. Slowly, the Tark seemingly went extinct, one of very few occurrences of such actions due to man’s interloping within the Zone. They had become the thing of ghost-stories and gossip, fading into obscurity and never seen again. Though, there was talk once of a stalker who actually tamed one, whoever that may have been. Kalancha, Suslov, and Chason each knew the story, with the two scientists having experienced the menaces firsthand. The Great Swamps were at one point riddled with the devastating pests, generally giving the faction a hard time. But seeing this zebra, which faintly resembled a Tark, was practically unsettling. Suslov himself witnessed a Tark feasting on the body of a hapless stalker, tearing flesh off with its menacing teeth. That said, he emptied buckshot into it and forced himself to put that memory behind himself. “A visitor..?” The docent asked. “One I hope isn’t going to cause trouble? And for what reason would you allow a living mutant to come into our bunker?” Chason gestured to the equine, “This is Zecora, a sentient zebra. I think there’s reason to why we’ve been seeing creatures that were never part of the Zone’s ecosystem. You know what I’m getting at with this, I hope?” Diederich finally turned around, having heard the conversation, “It would be better if you explained, actually.” “No,” Kalancha responded, raising a hand to cut in, “I don’t think that will be necessary. It was quite obvious that we were dealing with something else entirely from the very beginning of this operation. Missing information, along with few details, led us to believe that we were being sent on a very curious mission.” Zecora listened carefully, not bothering to interrupt her chance to gather as much information on the humans as possible. Suslov sipped his tea, “Yeah, this wasn’t exactly matching of the Zone’s environment, if you know what I mean. Crazy weather, creatures of myth, and all the colorful surroundings don’t fit what was to be expected.” He stopped, staring at his mug, “We knew the Space Bubbles were very tricky, very intricate devices constructed by the Zone that weren’t tethered down like most anomalies.” “And it was for that reason we agreed to accompany this mission when it was presented to us. Young man, it was only a matter of time before it became obvious to everyone here we weren’t in the Zone anymore. Though we don’t know if you were the first to realize that among the stalkers, you’re the only one who’s bothered mentioning it.” Diederich frowned, “Wait, if you two knew this from the start, why didn’t you tell us? Why keep it a secret, knowing that we could end up in a completely different point in space?” “Because, young lady, that creates panic, and panic is an unnecessary factor we won’t allow to affect our decisions.” Chason hummed in understanding, “So, if we aren’t in the Zone anymore, where are we then?” Despite Zecora not understanding several parts of the conversation happening, she clearly recognized the answer to that question. To think that creatures from what seemed to be different world entirely were standing in front of her and conversing, trying to figure out what destination this so-called “Space Bubble” spit them out to. “Equestria is the land you have entered, to cut short all this questioning and banter.” They all turned to look at her, “I understand you are all humans, for what reason would you reside near the Everfree Ruins?” Chason gave her a look, “Ruins? I didn’t see any ruins when we were being flown in.” Kalancha cut off Zecora, “Another time for that matter, young man. We have a guest with information, who I’m sure would some tea.” Suslov chuckled to himself, “Of course, professor. One cup of tea, coming up for the strange visitor from far-away lands, with trinkets all over her.” The professor ignored his fellow faction member and stepped closer to the zebra, holding his hands behind his back, “Now… Would you mind explaining our current situation, Miss Zecora, was it?” Zecora nodded, taking a breath before starting. Even though she was no stranger to speaking to multiple zebras and ponies at once, she was feeling strangely calm in front of the much taller humans, though that probably shouldn’t have been the case. The piping-hot tea would help sooth her nerves further, and with a bit of luck, she’d be able to derive and mutually share information with these new visitors to the Everfree. Without another thought, Zecora settled in for a long explanation, one that would undoubtedly be filled with a multitude of questions. She only hoped that she’d be able to ask hers, as well. Author's Notes Sorry for the long wait, a few months by my estimate, but the guy who I normally got to do the proofing and editing of this story seems to have disappeared, as did his temporary replacement. So I just got a buddy to look it over and shit, so there may be some errors around. Once again, sorry for this shit, but between college, Sandy, midterms and so much other shit, I haven't had much time for anything. So, I hoped you guy enjoyed this chapter and that I didn't fuck up somewhere, though I most likely did. Anyway, I'm done for now. I'll try to get a chapter out as soon as possible, but now that this one is done, there's other shit to work on. Hopefully shit will work out. As Always, Stay Trilla.