It’s a strange thing, being petrified. They say that until your brain dies, you can still feel everything and hear everything happening around you. You still breathe, but it’s shallow and difficult. They say it’s a lot like being covered in chitin, but you can’t move.
That’s all a lie.
Truth is, it’s agony. Pure, unwavering agony.
You see, turning things to stone is how a cockatrice feeds. It feeds on the life energies trapped in the unmoving stone casing.
And so, there I was. Trapped and alone, my mind screaming in agony.
To say it was a shock when I found myself gasping for air, starbursts in my eyes, curled up on a wooden floor is an understatement. The fact that a zebra was the one who saved me was just as surprising.
----
The cracking of stone filled my hearing almost to the point of being painful as the shell surrounding my form began to crack and fall away. My awareness of the world around me came back slowly, as each chip fell away and crumbled into nothingness, the magic in the stone depleted. I became suddenly acutely aware that I was not alone, as the feeling of the magical field that permeated Equus, our world, returned to me.
As the last pieces of the stone casing crumbled from my body, my pupils shrank down to pinpricks as they attempted to adjust to the sudden flash of light and input that being released gave me. As the plink of the final chip of stone was heard, the blurry shape to my side, whom I could only assume was a zebra due to the odd colouration in comparison to a pony despite their equine shape, began to speak.
“Oh thank goodness you’re awake,” a deep female voice said, her relief evident. “I thought I was too late in administering the treatment.”
My body seized up in a coughing fit, the lingering pain causing violent spasms to echo through my very core.
“It’s okay young one, you’re safe here.”
I stared up at her, bewildered. There was no way this was real… right?
“H-how did I get here? Who are you?” I croaked, as though someone had dumped a bucket of sand down my throat.
The zebra passed me a mug full of what looked like water and in trying to grab it with my magic, all I could manage was a weak sputter of sparks. The zebra tutted disapprovingly, pressing the mug into my hoof so I might grab it manually.
“I found your statue out by the path that winds through the Everfree forest,” she stated simply, vaguely indicating the general direction. “When I realised it was new, I brought it back to my home, to see if my remedy would work. As for who I am, my name is Zecora and I’m the humble shamaness that saved your life.”
I shivered slightly, the pain in my body subsiding with each sip of the concoction I took.
“You should thank your lucky stars that you survived, young one.”
I looked around, my eyes clearing, taking in my surroundings for the first time. Masks lined the upper walls of the room, large, decorative masks which stared down into the room, glaring at its occupants with seeming disdain. Their wooden construction seeming almost unnatural in its visage. They reminded me far too much of some of the sacrificial masks that some of the townsfolk wore to give penance to their heathen god Aza Guilla, The Silent Lady. Made of metal and fashioned in the shape of the face of its wearer, the worship masks were filled with poisoned spikes. The masks were designed to slowly and painfully kill their wearer, but the Silent Lady kept them alive for their sacrifice, granting them a deathless state of limbo and continuous pain. These wooden constructs terrified me to my very core, causing bile to rise in my throat. The zebra seemed to notice this, and shook her head softly.
“It’s okay,” she began, her voice soothing and soft. “Those masks are designed and enchanted to scare off lesser demonic spirits. Unless you have evil in your heart, they shall not harm you.”
I nodded slowly, taking another sip from the mug, and took another look around the room.
Potions of various colours and smells lined the cluttered shelves, their weight causing the ever-so-slight bending of the shelf. Ingredients of all shapes and sizes and origins filled row after row of jars, some still seemingly alive in the way they twitched and rippled.
The sound of the cauldron bubbling and boiling grabbed my attention and I stared at its roiling waters, the vibrant colours of whatever concoction was brewing sloshing around on the surface
like the liquid rainbow that the cloud factory used. I’m not sure just how long I stared into the cauldron, but when what looked like an eye floated to the surface, I leapt back, staring at Zecora in shock.
Again, she shook her head, this time chuckling quietly. “It is nothing but a glass eye. An ingredient in this mix of mine and nothing more.”
I stared warily at the cauldron, watching as the eye bobbed up and down, never stopping its ceaseless staring. “Well, what’s this potion for, if it requires a glass eye?”
“Why, for releasing one of a cocatrice’s hold, of course.” She replied jovially. “The eye acts like a wrecking ball, cracking and chipping the stone casing while the potion weakens it. Unfortunately though, for some odd reason, only glass eyes seem to do the trick, though it makes me wonder if other glass items could work. I’ve never tried using them, and a glass eye was the ingredient called for in the recipe.” The zebra drifted off, seemingly in a daze, thinking of the implications of using other glass items to get the same effect.
“So, I was in that pot, while it boiled?”
“But of course,” she replied, a humorous tone seeping in to her voice. “How else do you think the remedy would work?”
“Not like that, that’s for sure.” I mumbled, thoughts of the cannibalistic townsfolk from home seeping into my mind.
I shook my head, clearing it of the negative emotions rising in me.
“Look,” I started. “
“W-when you found me,” I began slowly. “Did you happen to see another pony? An earth pony, with a cherry-red mane?”
The zebra shook her head, but stopped quickly, pondering the question further.
“I did not see another pony on that path, no,” she said. “However, I do know that that road leads right into a mid-sized town. Worry not, I’m sure your friend will be safe.”
I looked away, downcast. Right… Friend…
----
It wasn’t long before Zecora had calmed me down enough for me to explain some things and answer a few of my questions, as well as ask a few of her own. She informed me that there was a town named Ponyville at the end of the path that Cherry and I had been walking down, and that even if Cherry wasn’t there, the ponies who inhabited the town would be more than willing to help me find her. I also found out (through a rather embarrassing bit of racial insensitivity) that most zebras of a certain sect of their religion, actually do rhyme, however the zebra had found it a silly practice over time, and had decided to do away with it, occasionally returning to it for various reasons.
Eventually, after a small amount of tea and some jovial talking, I left the home of my new acquaintance and continued along the path that she had described for me, headed to the town of Ponyville to find the one companion that had stuck by me my whole life.