//------------------------------// // Oh this hunger I feel, how I dream for it to not be real. // Story: A Homeland's Curse. A Zebra's Remorse. // by Taco Belle //------------------------------// "Oh this hunger I feel, how I dream for it to not be real." ~~~~~~ The lone zebra's eyes flutter open, as the dim light of Celestia's sun shines into her room from the round, barred window of her dwelling, the early spring sun was warm, and the wind carried a soft chill through Zecora's open window. A chill she gave a slight grin at, as she stood, as the morning chill proved she had survived another night, her right hindhoof still chained to the living wood of her home, firm and ungiving, as she prefers it. "Thank you again for holding me mighty tree, but with the come of morning, I must be free". She says with a chuckle, as runes glow apon her shackle, and with a soft, oiled clank, it falls off her gently raised ankle, and onto the soft down of her cot, and she stands, not looking at any of her limbs as she does so, wary of how hidious she is before her 'morning primping', as her friend, Rarity, would call it. Zecora giggles to herself as she lets out a yawn, taking a moment to imagine the aesthetics obsessed unicorn's reaction to her current visage, her yawn ends with her mouth settling into a frown, as humorous as her face would be, it may very well be the last time she got to see it. From her room, she moves briefly through her main chamber, full of Ingredients and reagents, her cauldron empty, save for residue from a recent miscreation, that a small, dear friend promised to help clean... Indeed, as she pauses in her stride to take in the greater expanse of her floor, it is coated with a dried and hardened off-purple substance, the result of dear sweet Applebloom hoofing her Essence of Milkweed instead of Essence of Silkweed. The both of them needed a heavy-duty solvent bath. A small smile creeped across Zecora's dried, cracked, pulled back lips at the look on the apologetic fillies face, innocent, and meaning no ill will, she would never stay mad at her little helper... But the memory of the event could not stall the inevitable, as her head turned back to her washroom, and the inevitable encounter with her own Visage. With a sigh, her hooves moved, her steps steady, as she walked carefully to avoid scratching her floor with the sharp edges of her hoof, as she pushed the beaded curtain open, and closed her eyes, and rounded the corner to face where she knew the mirror hung, aware of what she is about to see, for it is the same horrid face she sees every morning, every time she awakens, before she takes her medecine... Her eyes open, and her breath catches in her throat, as it always does, at the sight before her. Lips thin, and pulled back, showing every tooth in the accursed reflections mouth, sharp, jagged, and slightly hooked inward, the reflections gums, a black and grey color, wrinkled and rotten, her eyes cloudy and yellow, a soft yellow glow casting the sickly color apon the rest of her withered corpse of a face with there soft, hungry glow, as zecora's long, razor-edged hoof reaches to open the blinds on her bathroom window. "Hello again, oh horrid face of doom, why must you taint every morning with gloom..." her raspy, gaspy voice rymes, as she looks down at her sink's counter, and reached for a heavy clay bottle, using her teeth, which sink into the cork, into the same grooves as they do daily, she pulls the stopper free, and lifts the large bottle to her lipless face, and opens her maw wide, her black tongue, cracked and ichorus flattens, as she pours the sickeningly sweet potion down her parched throat, placing the bottle gently apon the counter, firmly jamming the stopper back in with a hoof. As she makes sure the stopper is firm, she watched her hooves dull and shorten, and her gaze returns to her reflection, as a soft beating starts up in her formerly still, cold chest, bringing a smile to her lips, which swell, and cover her rapidly flattening teeth, moisture and life returning to her face, and her dessicated torso with each heartbeat, all as her dull, coarse coat regains the shimmer of youth, and life. "This is what I wish to see... the face that belongs to me." She says with a soft smile as she turns to a rack to acquire her golden rings, making a soft huff and chiding herself for forgetting to put them on BEFORE her medecine. It's always awkward to squeeze them over her head and hoof when they are not dried. "Being undead, I do think, it can really stink." ~~~~~~ Her stomach ached, as she walked the path from her forested home, as she often does to acquire reagents and herbs for her craft. Zecora did not eat this morning, she does not need to, but it was for the best, for the one thing she craves anymore is- She shook her head, her brown hood waving slightly in the cool morning air. "Must not think of that path, lest I incur innocent's wrath." she mused to herself, as she took in her lush surroundings, so many ponyfolk see this land as dark and deadly. But to Zecora, it is a paradise compares to her Homeland... Her soft trot halts as she thinks back to her banishment... There was no hate in her exile, only fear, and the fear was her own, because she was was unsure if she could resist her... hunger. The Hunger that she has carried since the incident, the thirst for warm blood, and desire for wet flesh, these mere thoughts cause the rumbling in her temporarily re-animated bowels to intensify, but her will, as it has always been, remains strong enough to overshadow what should be the sole thing driving her onward. She was now driven by spite, to prove she will never fall to the curse. Zecora gave a soft smile as she continued, coming to the edge of the Everfree, a cottage visible nearby, and further from it, the town of Ponyville. Her eyes gazed apon a softly singing pegasus, tending to her numerous animal charges, as Zecora began to aproach the Pegasus' home, remembering back to when she first came to the Everfree... ~~~~~~ Zecora stalked through the late evening brush of the Everfree, a land unfamiliar to her, but if the tales she's heard of it were true, everything she needed was here. Her heavy brown cloak draped over her gaunt form, as a (hopefully) friendly looking green and red wooden mask adorned her face, one of many she brought with her, to hide her form untill she finds the reagents she needs to reverse the curse... She was sure it would work this- "Ah there you be, rare little berry come to me!" she says with a raspy chuckle, as she hops over a small log to a grey leaved bush, and takes the basket off her back, placing it on the ground, and removing her mask, because these berries are delicate, and must be picked carefully... Besides her hooves would most likely cut them.... as she picked at the small, emerald berries, dropping them gently, one by one, she heard some rustling behind her. Wary of the beasts of this wild wood, she turns and releasing a threatening hiss. Four foals run screaming out of the bush in the opposite direction as her, and disappear in the direction of a nearby village. The flat of Zecora's dry, hollow-sounding hoof collide with her gaunt, toothy face. "Well... Buck, it seems that today I am without Luck." ~~~~~~ Zecora was departing from dear sweet juicy Fluttershy's abode, vacated robin eggshells within a small pouch now on her person, collected tenderly by fluttershy from the nests of newborn baby birds, and quite the potent Ingredient when fresh, but it takes a tender hoof to collect them without soiling their value by disturbing the chicks. Tender... Zecora stopped to rub her forehead for a moment, in an attempt to wipe away the horrid mental image that she had let slip past her guard. Flutter lives on the edge of the town, her hunger spoke through her own thoughts, it would be a week, before her absence would cause a frown. Zecora sat apon her flank and began rubbing her head with both forehooves, unable to cease the train of thoughts. And by then, there would be nothing for them to seek. The thoughts came to an abrupt end at the impact of two rocks to the sides of her head, Zecora's head spun for a whole minute before settling back into steady consciousness, the thoughts beaten into submission, though the hunger pains remain, as she drops the pair of stones she had hastily grabbed to administer her emergency treatment. To pain you abate... she muses inhaling an uneeded breath, and continuing forward. ...Hunger I will not sate. ~~~~~~ The sun hangs low in the air, Zecora's satchel, worn beneath her cloak, heavy with a surplus of reagents she needs for the next weeks work, some given, some traded, some bartered, as vision reaches the welcoming masks adorning her home. As she Approached her dwelling, she smiles up to the mask adorned above her door, recalling that day she first encountered Ponyville folk... Smiling remorsefully, she contemplates how those four foals ensured she would be feared for at least three decades before Twilight and her friends alleviated the fear, and she was welcomed. The door of her home is left ajar, and a pleasant scent wafts from inside, the smell of tender young flesh the small filly who has been helping her more and more lately. Stepping into her home she goes to greet her guest with a rhyme, but her voice catches in her throat as she spies a red tail... ...swaying back and forth, poking out from the rim of her cauldron, the sound of a steel brush against the grimy inside can be heard, and a small bubble floating from the cauldron, as a gentle hum echoes out of it, as the little filly scrubbed. Zecora clenched her eyes at the Sight before her... her eyes subconsciously darting over to the Latched Lid to the pot... To do so would be an ease, withen minutes would her breathing cease, theres worse ways to Die- ~~~~~~ Applebloom lets out a yelp, as the cauldron suddenly shakes and emits a very loud Ring, as she covers her ears, and as soon as the pot stops vibrating she peeks out to see her Alchemy teacher sitting next to the pot, rubbing her head. "Z-zecora, are Ya'll all right? Didja trip?" "Y-yes, a trip I did take, to move swiftly apon the defiled floor was a mistake." She says, barely giving any hint to the fact she had intentionally slammed her head against the hard iron cauldron to knock some sense into her accursed undead skull. She realizes, as well, she is holding the pot's lid, and sets it aside. "I shall clean the inside of the pot, Applebloom, why don't you.." she lets out a playful chuckle "Show this traitorous floor it's doom?" ~~~~~~ "Good night, small Apple pony, leave the rest, to me." She says with a wave as Applebloom departs down the cleared out path to Ponyville, as Zecora lets out a sigh of relief. She's been avoiding talking directly to her guest for the past 5 minutes, as her medicine began to wear off, and her eyes began to sink, and her teeth began to shift. Tired and hungry, as she always is, she heads over to her bed, and flops apon the covers, rolling off her stomach, only to reach for her shackle, and hook it firmly to her leg. "Good night my guardian tree, make sure, you protect them from Me." She says, what amounts to her evening prayer, and falls into a deep sleep, that only the dead can enjoy. ~~THE END~~~