Desert Sky

by Real_SilentPony

Chance meeting

Glad to be back and I love the new season so far. Miss Derpy though…
Disclaimer: I don’t own My Little Ponies: Friendship is Magic.

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Prologue:

*Many Years Ago*
The rain never stopped.

It was torrential downpour; a constant wave of icy water that sapped the very life from her bones. It was as if the Gods wanted to create a new inland sea and she had been dumb enough to find herself on the soon-to-be seabed. Her body ached, her limbs shook and her hooves throbbed and bled watery red blood. Her body screamed at her to rest, to close her eyes and let the sweet embrace of sleep take her. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She knew the fatigue and pain were nothing next to the danger of the cold. She walked to keep up her body heat just as much as she did to cover the distance. She had been walking for days. Or was it hours?

Weeks?

Months?

Time had no meaning to her in this place, for the rain never stopped. Even when the sun was at its zenith in the sky, it was little more than a sickly orb of light glimpsed behind swollen rain clouds. The rain pounded into the soaked ground, splashing and rippling in the ankle deep mud. This was not the type of rain she was used to. She was soaked to the bone, her fur matted flat against her shivering body. Her mane clung to her head in sticky strands that obscured her vision, but no matter how many times she brushed them aside, they always returned. Her limbs shivered but she considered it a tradeoff. Better numb limbs then the splintering pain of strained muscles from walking for so long without rest.

Sleeping wasn’t an option; not with the ever-present rain bounding the lands. She knew as if by instinct that she closed her eyes, it would be the last time. Her blanket, little more than course woven fabric, would provide her little warm and her traveling hood was soaked. There was nothing to keep her warm and alive, save the constant painful walking.

She had set out from her homeland during the dry seasons, her heart swollen at the prospect of adventure. She had left her herd behind, determined to find something more. To be something great. She remembered her father’s eyes glittering like liquid onyx with unshed tears. That she was his only daughter made his heart break to see her go. That she had chosen
such a brave and challenging life without hesitation made his heart swell with pride.

She had set out with confident steps, a newly acquired tribal mark and the hunger for alchemical knowledge that had seen to the mark’s magical appearance on her flanks. Now that hunger, like the soaked travel pack of cured leather over her shoulder, weighed her down. Each step took a monumental effort, and each was a small victory against the unbeatable furry of the storm, let alone the shards of icy pain in her legs. Lightning flashed in the sky, stretching out in jagged lines of angry light like the webs of a spider. The first hundred times she had flinched at the thunder that followed. The next hundred had seen her accept it bravely for what it was. Now she simply ignored it, too weary to even work up the energy to be annoyed.
She knew it was dangerous to be in the open in a thunderstorm, but she had yet to see a cave or rocky overhang to shelter under. As far as she could see, which granted was limited by the wall of raindrops, she saw rolling but dully flat hills. This land was bleak; lifeless. Not like home.

Just thinking of her far away homelands sent a pang of longing into her heart. The rain back home was friendly; a soft pitter-pat of soft drops on the leaves of the trees. It was like drums and you could dance to it. Even in the savanna, trees and life bloomed and thrived and her heart ached for that land. Back home there was always a way to hide away from the rain, but more often than not she would sit and dance in the rain. If she listened closely, she could hear a beat, a rhythm in the rain on leaves. She would mediate and find comfort in the steady, equal rhythm.

Here the rain was the sound of the ocean. Overwhelming; drowning. She hated it.

The ground slipped under hoof and she stumbled in the mud, cursing under her breath as she landed face first in a mud pile. Pain flared in her hoof and she cried out in pain when she tried to stand. The sticky mud gummed her eyes shut but she simply turned to the sky, letting the deluge wash away the residue. The mud here was nothing like earth back home. Here it was sticky and clingy, caking to her fur in misshapen lumps. She tried to stand again, gritting her teeth against the pain in her ankle. She felt bone scrap and grind against bone. The injury itself wasn’t mortal, but in this rainstorm it was as good as a death sentence. She took a step with a good hoof and it sunk deep into the mud. She tried her broken ankle and screamed. Her ankle collapsed sideways and she stumbled.

Earth became sky. Sky became earth. She tumbled end over end down a hill. She felt rain slicked rocks cut at her skin and her head smashed into a jagged rock. Her vision continued to swim even as she came to a halt, covered head to hoof in thick brown mud. She could feel warm blood running down the back of her neck and her head throbbed in agony. The world faded in and out of focus; shapes merged and expanded and the sky rotated in endless circles.

She began to crawl. Inch by inch, hoof by hoof she pulled herself through the mud. She refused to die her. Refused to let her life’s journey end so quickly and so badly. She would not die in the mud and rain. She spat as mud flooded into her mouth and clogged her nostrils. She dragged her body closer to a rocky outcropping but her hoof was stricken with a terrible palsy and with each passing heartbeat, her strength faded. But even as her mind railed against her body, her arms failed her. The last of her energy leaked out with the blood and she sank into darkness.

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“I’mma tellin’ ya’, I heard a sceam!” The earth pony yelled to be heard over the thunder. His companion pressed her hat tightly to her head and turned her heard away from the rain.

“And I’mma tellin’ ya’ that ya’ heard nothin’!” She yelled back, “Look ‘round Braeburn! Ain’t no pony but the wagon-train fer miles!”

“Then ya’ll can go back, Cobbler.” Braeburn snapped at her, “I lose nothin’ by looking even if there aint no pony out here. But if there is…” His words were lost as more lightning struck overhead and he flinched. Braeburn took a deep breath and began to march through the mud.

“Scratch this!” Apple Cobbler said with a huff, “We is gonna’ catch our death out here. I’mma headin’ back to the wagon train. And when you is sick tomorrow, I ain’t gonna hoof feed ya’.”

“Fine!” Bareburn snarled back, both distracted by and angry at his sister. Though prone to pranks and practical jokes, Braeburn never lied. It galled him that his sister didn’t think he had actually heard a pony in need. His sister turned on her heel and galloped back to the distant lights of the wagon train. Braeburn ignored her.

If there was no pony out here, he would make his apologies in the morning. If there was a pony in need of help, then he would be a hero. Not that being acknowledged was what drove him to search. His pa always said a true heroes does what he does with no expectation of anypony noticing him, let alone thanking and praising him. His pa always said a real stallion helps ponies because it was the right thing to do, nothing more.

But Apple Cobbler had a point. The rain was the worst it had been all week, and their caravan was stuck in the mud until it dried up. The thought annoyed him. He had the itch for adventure that saw him and his sister embark on this journey to the West. To be bogged down by something as pitiful as rain galled him. He pulled his leather vest tighter to his fur and kept walking. He knew the rain could ruin the vest, but it was the only thing he had brought. The life of a pioneer didn’t leave much for luxury and this vest was of good enough quality to last several years if need be.

Braeburn searched for what could have been hours, but was most likely only minutes. The rain was making time slow to a trickle and already he felt a fever coming on. Maybe Cobbler had been right. Normally a cold wasn’t more than a one or two day annoyance, but out here on the trail with nothing but the wagon train’s dwindling supplies available, it may well be his death. Maybe it had just been the lightning or his own imagination. Celestia knew as a foal he had had more than one monster under his bed to bug his parents about. Maybe he was just being an ‘idgit and stubborn to boot.

He was a heartbeat from turning back and scarp together what was left of the stew back with the caravan when something caught his eye. He had seen in a flash of lightning that had turned the world monochrome. It had only been for the briefest of seconds; long enough. Braeburn scooped the fabric off the muddy ground and turned it over in his hooves. It was a brown, thick woven fabric that smelled of spices that tingled his nose in a funny way. It wasn’t a bad smell, but certainly no pony in the caravan had dropped it. Something else caught his attention. A patch of rust colored mud along a tear line. His eyes widened; blood. Fresh too. Somepony was out here!

“HELLO?” He yelled out, “ANYPONY?” his eyes darted around, filled with a renewed sense of purpose and panic. A bleeding pony out here at night would be easy prey for the wilderness beasts if the rain and cold didn’t kill them first. His eyes traveled to a slick and obvious trail in the side of the hill, as if a boulder had been knocked loose and tumbled down. More fabric lined the bath, caught on rocks and terrible spiker bushes. Braeburn made his way through the thicket, grimacing as a few razor thorns pricked his skin.

He gasped. A figure laid in a heap the base of the hill. Unmoving and half buried in the mud. Braeburn pushed through the rain and was at their side in a heartbeat. Absently he noticed the fabric he had found earlier matched the cape the pony wore. He stuffed the missing piece into his pocket for later and turned the pony over. It was a mare. And she wasn’t breathing.

Braeburn pawed at the mud caking her nose and mouth, hoping that would be enough. It wasn’t. Without thinking Braeburn pinched the mare’s nose shut and put his mouth on hers. he forced all the air from his lungs into her, then pulled away, breathless.

“Come on now.” Braeburn swore to the howling wind and pressed on her chest. No response. Growing more frustrated and afraid, Braeburn put his lips to hers again. He felt her twitch and sputter. Mud suddenly filled his mouth and he coughed and gagged on it. He spat on the ground as the mare coughed up her own torrent of disgusting mud. She groaned and her head rolled to one side.

“I got ya’.” Braeburn said quickly to the pony and raised her head with his hoof. He wiped away the mud caking her eyes and one flickered open to look at him with a beautiful blue eye. More rain began to beat down on them and Braeburn noticed a trickle of blood flowing from a nasty looking gash on her head. Thinking quickly, Braeburn unwrapped the scarf around his neck and tied it over the wound. The pony in his arms groaned and tried to speak, but she was simply too weak.

“Don’t try to speak.” Braeburn said as kindly as he could manage under the circumstances, “I’mma get you back to the caravan.” Braeburn hoisted the mare onto his back and grunted at the weight. His legs wobbled with his first few steps but he soon found his stride and moved quickly through the downpour.

His legs burned with every step he took but he kept going, ignoring the pain. Apples didn’t quit and they didn’t let folk down. This lost pony may not have asked for help, but it was his responsibility to see her safely to the caravan. He wasn’t aware of any other settler ponies making their ways through the West this season but it didn’t matter. This pony needed his help and he would give his all if that was required.

The lights of the wagon train began to shine and wink in the rain like fireflies on a summer night. Braeburn would have smiled if his breath wasn’t coming to him in ragged gasps. Her drudged through the mud and his legs threatened to collapse as her drew closer.

“Sis!” He screamed when he was close enough to be heard over the rain, “Sis! Anypony?!”
A dozen faces suddenly appeared from under the hoods of covered wagons. They wore thick clothing and their faces were lined with exhaustion. The rain was beginning to take its toll on the caravan.

“Braeburn?” Cobbler peeked her head out of their wagon and her eyes widened, “Sweet Celestia!” she scrambled from the wagon and quickly was at his side. She leaned against him and let the anonymous mare’s weight be shared between them. Braeburn let out a slow, ragged breath as the weight on his back eased.

“What is Celestia’s name happened?” Cobbler asked. She was already breathless. Braeburn would have shrugged, but his body was too tired.

“Dunno.” He said, “Found her face down in the mud.”

“Then we aint got time to waste.” Cobbler said as they pulled the unconscious mare into their wagon. They eased her onto one of their sleeping mats, ignoring the mud that was covering everything. Out on the trail, something as simple as mud in a wagon was too petty to even acknowledge.

“We gotta’ get her warm.” Braeburn said quickly. The mare was shivering. He stripped the cloak from her fur and set it and the mare’s traveling pack in the corner. His sister found a cloth from one of their cases and wiped away some of the mud coating the mare’s face.

“Go get Dr. Roe or Dr. Venture.” Braeburn commanded and his sister scrambled out the wagon, shouting into the storm. Bareburn pulled a woven wool blanket over the shivering mare and delicately wiped some of the mud from her face. She was…beautiful. Her face was slender and thin. In the poor lighting he couldn’t tell if her fur was black or white. It was probably white and just streaked with mud and blood. One blue eye fluttered open and took several moments to focus on him.

“Howdy.” He whispered, “Don’t worry none. Ya’ll safe. We is gonna’ take care of ya’.” The mare opened her mouth to speak but Braeburn put a hoof to her and smiled softly. “Trust me. Ya’ll safe.” The mare nodded once more before passing out.
“What in tarnation?!” A graveled voice suddenly called out. Braeburn turned to see the balding face of Dr. Venture peeking through the wagon’s cover.

“Dr!” Braeburn sighed with relief, “Found her out in the rain. I think she hit her head on a rock too.” The doctor scrambled in and shook off the layer of rain that coated him. Braeburn’s sister Apple Cobbler was a few second beyond them, carrying the doc’s bag in her mouth. The doctor kneeled next to the mare and undid Braeburn’s scarf from around her head. He took a moment to study the mare.

“Give me some light.” He said gruffly. Braeburn pulled the lamp from its hook on the wall and held it close to the mare’s head. He noticed her eyes closing tighter and her face grimaced. She was awake, at least in part.

“Aint bad, but im gonna’ sew her up.” The Doc looked up at Cobbler, “Hoof me one of them packets of needles and thread. And the bottle of rubbing alcohol. Braeburn, get to work on her other cuts. Clean ‘em good and wrap them. Bandages in my bag.”

They set to work quickly and quietly. Braeburn worked gently, cleaning every cut and scrape that he found on the mare’s body. The Doc, with Cobbler watching with a pale face, sewed up the nasty gash on the mare’s head and wrapped it tightly. They had removed much of the mare’s jewelry and set it in a small bag nearby, although if the ragged tears in her ears was anything to go by, many earring had been lost in the wilderness. Braeburn felt pangs of sadness as he worked. This mare had suffered so much and as far as he knew, she was completely innocent. Still he tried not to think too much about why she had been out in a rainstorm this bad. He concentrated on fixing her. He removed a golden bracelet from her hoof and held it to the light. It was richly decorated with strange carving and runes. He could make out shapes that looked like trees and birds, but of types he had never seen before. There were other creatures too. Massive, thick things with flapping ears and long noses. Squat things with a single massive horn. And tall, spindly creatures with unbelievable long necks. His imagination drifted for a moment; the rain became the beautiful rush of a waterfall. Exotic birds cawed in the air. The ground rumbled with a thousand hooves of every shapes and size. Things brayed and hooted but he found himself relaxing. The air smelled of spice and tingled his nose. It was the same spice from the mare’s cloak. A moan from the mare drew his attention back to the cramped, dimly lit wagon and Braeburn felt a brief sense of claustrophobia. He shook it off and put the bracelet in the bag with all the other jewelry.

He took the mare’s hoof in his and gently brushed away the caked mud and blood from a scrape above her ankle. It was then he noticed how swollen the limb was.

“Doc?” He called out, “Look it. I think her ankle is broken too.” Doctor Venture eyes it for a moment through his half-moon glasses and nodded grimly.

“Sure is.” He said and began searching through his bag, “Good thing ya’ll found her when ya’ did. State she’s in, she’d be easy prey for them thunderwolves. Ya’ pappy be proud.” Braeburn smiled at the rare praise and made the most of it.

“Ya’ll did good.” Cobbler said softly, “Sorry fer leavin’ ya”

“Forget it, sis.” He said with a smile, “Ya’ll get to hoof feed me when I’m sick with a cold tomorrow.”

“Oh joy.” Cobbler sighed and they laughed. The doc scooted over to Braeburn with bandages and splints in his hooves.

“Hold her still.” He said softly, “I’mma snap her bone back into place.” Braeburn and Cobbler gripped the mare tightly. Braeburn rested her head in his lap and held her shoulders firm. The mare’s eyes opened briefly and locked with Braeburn’s. The Doc wrenched the ankle to the side and there was a sickening crunch of wet bone sliding. The mare’s eyes widened in pain but she refused to scream. She shook in Braeburn’s arms and a single tear ran down her cheek. Braeburn brushed it away and smiled softly at her. His grip on her shoulder’s tightened. He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn the mare pressed herself closer to his body. The mare’s blue eye began to waver and close. Braeburn reached out and pulled the blanket a little closer over her, leaving room for the doc to set her ankle. The mare seemed to get the message and closed her eyes fully before falling asleep in his lap.

“That’s all I can do for now.” The Doc said softly. He stood on his old legs and groaned. Cobbler retrieved a bottle of spiced apple whiskey from a case and hoofed it to him. Doctor Venture took a sip and nodded his thanks.

“What should we do?” Cobbler asked softly. She was well aware the mare was resting in his brother’s lap and Braeburn seemed to be stroking her shoulders calmly.

“Watch over her tonight. Keep her warm. Plenty of water.” The Doc collected his tools and wiped his brow, “I’ll be back in the morn. Make sure she gets extra breakfast if she’s up. Recovery is gonna’ be long and hard for this one.”

“What about a fever?” Braeburn asked worriedly. The doc fixed him with a grim, measured stare.

“I’ll see how much medicine Dr. Roe still has.” He left it at that and left. Cobbler returned to her brother’s side and dipped a cloth in a bucket of cool water. She wiped away the coated mud from the mare’s arms and body. She noticed a strange swirling pattern on her flanks and smiled. A cutie mark. That was something at least.
Cobbler’s eyes narrowed and she got the lantern from the hook on the wall. She held it close to the mare and studied. She studied the mare’s sleeping face and traced the lines of dark and light fur down her shoulders. She tried wiping away the dark spots, but it came up clean. That didn’t make sense…unless…

“Sweet Celestia.” Cobbler whispered. Her brother looked up.

“What?” Braeburn asked, his chest tightening. Cobbler looked at him with eyes wide with disbelief.

“She’s a zebra.”

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She was drifting. Her body felt cool and yet warm. Chills ran up her spine, but she was sweating with heat. She felt warm and safe, and yet she was cold and in danger. Her mind couldn’t focus. Her thoughts were lazy and slow. She remember…what? Rain. Lots of rain. And she fell, right? Something like that. Then what? She remembered blinding pain in her leg and her head throbbing so loudly she heard nothing else.

It came to her in glimpse and fragments. She heard a voice in her head. It was deep, soothing and warm. It was a voice she could trust. She smiled at it. She concentrated on it. That voice was the one constant she had left. Even as her mind swam and she felt dizzy to the point of being sick, she focused on that voice. That saving, perfect voice.

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The zebra drifted in and out of a fevered sleep for the next three days. She thrashed in her sleep and groaned in pain when she was awake. She didn’t eat and drank only sparingly, and even then only if it was Braeburn who held the drink for her. The cowpony didn’t leave her side for even a moment. He had left once at the beginning, but Cobbler had screamed for the doctor, worried the fever would kill the zebra.

They had saved her life again, but it was Braeburn’s constant presence that seemed to keep the worst of the sickness at bay. It didn’t really surprise anypony. The zebra was delirious with the fever and she probably only recognized Braeburn.
At the dawn of the fourth day, the caravan set out again. They made for Dodge Junction to resupply before setting off on the final leg of their journey. Braeburn sat in the back of hi wagon, his attention lost in a book. The wagon creaked at is swayed back and forth. The rows of boxes he and his sister had packed all their belongings into shifted slightly, but they were tied to the floor so he ignored it. the now empty lamp clanked at it swayed against the wall and a thin layer of dust kicked in from outside. The earth had dried dramatically in the last few days, becoming more like the chalky dust he had expected. Breaburn turned over a page and sighed. The humidity made it hard to breath and a thin layer of sticky sweat coated his skin.

The zebra next to him groaned and rolled over. Breaburn put the book down and was at her side in an instant. He took the cooling cloth from her forehead and dipped it in the bucket of cool water next to him before replacing it. he was about to return to his book when he noticed a pair of sparkling sapphire eyes studying him.

“Well howdy there, sleepy head.” He said with a tight smile. The zebra’s face cracked in a small grin and she tried to sit up.

“Whoa, whoa there, easy.” Braeburn put a hoof to her shoulder and eased her down again.

“Creaking wood and canvas I see.” The zebra’s voice was whisper soft and tired, but it was amazing. There was an edge to her words, an accent that captured Breaburn’s attention fully, “May I ask where it is I be?”
Braeburn blinked a few times, trying to process the odd way the zebra spoke, “Ya’ll are on a wagon. Part of a settler pony train goin’ West. I found ya’ll in the mud a few days ago. Been here ever since.”

“Then to you I offer my humblest gratitude.” She bowed her head slightly, “Without your rescue I would certainly have been wolf food.”

“Think nothin’ of it, Miss…?”

“Zecora, of the Zebra race.” Braeburn held out his hoof and she looked at it for a moment. She took it gingerly in her good hoof and smiled at him.

“Braeburn Apple.” He said and tipped his hat at her, “Pleasure to meet you Miss Zecora.”

“Please, just Zecora will do me fine.” She said softly. The wagon cover shifted slightly and the sun bled in through the canvas. The rays hit Zecora’s face and she smiled. Breaburn tried not to think of how beautiful she looked with the sun on her fur, “Pleased I am to see the sun has remembered how to shine.”

“Do…do ya’ll…” Breaburn trailed off for a moment, “Do ya’ll always do that? Rhyme?” if he didn’t know better, he would have sworn the zebra blushed slightly.

“Since the day I could speak my words have been on an endless rhyming streak.” She said with a bashful smile. Braeburn smiled in a confused way.

“Sure enough, I ain’t never met a mare like ya’ before Zecora.” He said and this time he was sure she blushed. Then her stomach rumbled loudly and Braeburn gasped, “Where are my manners?! Here I is makin’ small talk while ya’ll must be starvin’ to death!”

“If my bag is still intact…” She pointed to her knapsack in the corner, “Plenty of food I still have packed.”
Breaburn gave her a soft smile and shook his head, “Sorry but ya’ rations were too spoiled by the time they dried. But don’t you fret none. We got plenty of food in the caravan.” Zecora opened her mouth to speak but Breaburn held up a hoof, “And no, you aint payin’ for it and you aint getting’ up to get it either.” Zecroa smiled and gave his a playful pout. Braeburn tried not to think of how cute she looked with that pouty face on and left quickly.

Zecora took a moment to study her surroundings. Her head and ankle throbbed but they were expertly wrapped in bandages and she knew better than to unwrap them to check the injury. All of the cuts the rocks and thorn bushes had given her were healing nicely and many were gone all together. She still felt feverish though and she pulled the thin cotton blanket closer to her as she shivered. The wagon she was in swayed back and forth and she closed her eyes, partly to calm her dizziness and partly to listen to the swaying of the wood. There was an ad-hoc sense of urgency in the way the world swayed, but it was honest. Nothing was trying to hide from her. She felt a little relaxed. The pony Braeburn was right; she was safe for now.

Zecora blushed; Braeburn’s voice was the same from her fever dreams. His voice had been was she heard in her maddened state and used as a focal point. His voice was so calm and measured and sweet. The wagon’s cover moved aside and Zecora startled at the sudden movement. Breaburn climbed in with a bowl of steaming food in one hoof. He was
followed by a second, older pony with thin glasses and a balding mane.

“Zecora, this here is Doc Venture.” Braeburn said and hoofed her the bowl, “He fixed you up.”

“Splinted leg and sown up head.” Zecora said honestly, tapping each of her injuries gently, “Without your ministrations I would surely be dead.” The doctor clicked his tongue and sighed.

“Ah pony feathers…” He groaned, “That blow to the head must have been worse than I thought.” A look of hurt and anger flashed over Zecora’s face. Braeburn quickly held up a hoof.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with her noggin, Dr.” He said simply, “Zecora here simply speaks in rhymes. I think it’s the way of her clan. “ She eyed him with an impressed smile.

“Braeburn, such a sleuth.” She turned to the doctor, “Listen to your friend. He speaks the truth.” The doctor groaned and shook his head. He held up a pen and stared into her eyes.

“Follow this with your eyes.” He said and she did. Braeburn held back, eyeing Zecora worriedly. He really hoped she wasn’t hurt badly. Satisfied with her response, Dr. Venture prodded her ankle and head. Zecora winced in pain but kept silent.

“honestly, I think ya’ll gonna be fine.” He said with his rough approximation of a smile, “Stay off that ankle for a spell. It was broken badly.” He turned to Braeburn, “Change her bandages daily and make sure she eats plenty.” He eyed the zebra with a knowing look, “and keep an eye on her. Any pony-zebra-that is dumb enough to go out into a thunderstorm has a knack for gettin’ into trouble. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself again.”

Zecora gave the doc an evil grin. She felt a small thrill at the idea of adventuring out again. The doctor took a bottle of something from a nearby trunk and left. Zecroa turned her attention to the bowl of steaming vegetables in her hooves. Her stomach growled and she glanced up at Breaburn.

“Vegetable stew.” He shrugged and something like shame crossed his features, “Sorry it isn’t much but it’s hot. We don’t have a lot of supplies now.”

“Please, do not go into a huff.” She spooned some of the steaming broth into her mouth and smiles, “Your hospitality is more than enough.”

Braeburn stood and retrieved a ceramic jug for the corner and poured a generous measure into a small wooden cup. “Here. Some honey water.”

Zecora took the cup and downed it in one gulp. The dry fire at the back of her throat was finally quenched and she sighed happily. The water was cool and sweet and left a pleasant taste on her tongue.

“More?” Breaburn laughed. The zebra held out her cup but her mouth was filled with too many veggies to respond. The cowpony poured another cup and set the jug down next to the zebra. Zecroa devoured the meal quickly. Her body was weak and her stomach angry and she ate and ate to satisfy it. Breaburn sat back and munched on one of the few apples they had left. Most of their last harvest was divided up between baked goods to earn enough money to make the trip and dry seeds for planting when they get to wherever they were going.

“So, what was ya’ll doin’ out in the rainstorm, Zecora?” Braeburn asked. The zebra took a delicate sip from her glass and thought for a moment.

“My life on the savanna was calm and measured. Uncomfortable I was with feeling so leisured.” Zecora spooned another helping of broth into her mouth before continuing, “With pack and cloak I set out to find anything that could get me away from the grind. Many moons I have been traveling too, but nothing have I seen like the horrible monsoon.”

“Ya’ll an adventurer?” Breaburn asked with a smile, “Well don’t that beat all. I’m out here doin’ the same thing, ‘course I brought my sister with my to save us for a not so good living.” Zecora gave him a questioning look, “Oh I ain’t gonna bore you with sad details. She and I needed to start a new life, so we paid our part and signed up for a caravan.”

“Looking after family is something to be proud of, “Zecora said softly, “for your sister you must have much love.”

“Where I come from, folks look out for their kin.” Braeburn said and rested his head against the wall. Zecora watched him for a moment. His jaw was firm and his face handsome. His blonde mane was shaggy but looked smooth and clean. Zecora blushed slightly at how handsome he was and looked away. She had finished her bowl of stew and had all but drunken the entire jug of honey water. Zercora’s eyes started to get heavy and she rested against the mat she was on.

“Go on and get some sleep there.” Braeburn said with a smile. Zecora smiled back pleasantly.

“I’m sure you have obligations that you cannot break, but please be here when I am awake.” Zecora said with a yawn. Braeburn chuckled and quietly walked to her side. He pulled the blanket closer to her and nodded.

“I’ll be here.”

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It took the caravan a full two weeks to reach Dodge Junction. In that time Zecora met Cobbler Apple and the younger Dr. Roe. Although at first the settler ponies had been hesitant of her, life on the range made friendship quick. There wasn’t time for prejudice or even much of anything. Breaburn spent most of his time with the injured zebra. They talked over meals and shared stories. Sometimes Braeburn would read from the adventure books that he had packed in his case. Zecora’s favorite was the story of the pirate ponies on the high seas. Growing up in the savanna Zecora had seen only a few rivers and streams. To hear of ponies living boat their entire lives sent a thrill of excitement through her. She pictured herself as a swash buckling pirate, taking plunder and treasure from other boats. She blushed as she imagined taking Braeburn as her personal prize. The cowpony had shown nothing but patience and respect to her. She had heard it said zebra’s weren’t treated well in Equestria, but Braeburn and Cobbler had shown nothing of that.

In that time, Zecora’s ankle had gotten better and her head was all but healed. She still had to wear a splint on her leg, but with Braeburn’s held she was able to hobble a little. It wasn’t until Braeburn helped her out of the wagon on her tenth day there that she got a sense for how big the caravan was. There were dozens of wagons stretched as far she could see.
Oxen, cows, ponies goats all traveling to a better life just over the horizon.

She met several of the other settles. There was a gruff and naturally unfriendly pony named Silver Star and a kid who fancied himself a roughish bank robber named Billy the Goat. Zecora liked most of them. Though not entirely friendly, they were polite and respectful and those who were in poor moods quickly excused themselves so as not to cause a scene.
Every night, weather permitting, the caravan would stop and start a fire to roast their evening meals. Braeburn explained to her that it was safer for everypony that the caravan circle up at night. There were predators in the wildness, eager to pick off any stragglers.

They told stories over the campfire, and Zecora had been asked to tell her tale. The children of the caravan laughed at her rhyming words while the adults simply accepted it as her way. She was a zebra after all, and that was no different than an ox, goat or even a pony. Out here in the desert they were all equal.

Even as she spoke to the entire camp, Zecora was always aware of Braeburn nearby. She smiled every time she saw him. He had shown her nothing but friendship since the beginning. Having him around calmed her in a way only the savanna rain ever had before. His smile was delicate and careful, as if he was always on edge. Zecora had noticed he kept a close on his sister and her whenever he was around. He was a very caring pony and Zecora found that her heart had started to beat faster whenever he was around.

The days went by slowly, but pleasantly. The foals of the caravan always wanted to visit the mysterious zebra and she was happy to entertain them with stories told by her tribe. Though she enjoyed all the company, she always looked forward to the peace and quiet of just her and Zecora. Apple Cobbler seemed to be a very popular mare in the caravan and Braeburn once told her that his sister was a master card player and was often out earning them some extra bits until they could start a farm.

Zecora sighed happily and let the dry acrid air of the desert sweep into her lungs. It was burning and hot but she had come to enjoy it. It was so different from the sounds and smells from the savanna. She smiled when she realized that this was simply part of her adventure, not a detour from it.

Breaburn finished reading from the book in his hooves and set it down. The zebra at the edge of the wagon turned and Zecora’s face made it obvious she wanted so much more, but the day was fading fast. Braeburn stretched his sore neck and sat next to her. Zecora sipped from her bitter drink; coffee the ponies called it. The taste was awful but she was grateful for the energy it gave her. Over the days and weeks she had grown used to Braeburn’s companionable silence. Though he was more than able of talking her ear off, Zecora got the sense he only did that when he was nervous. That he was capable of sitting in silence with him spoke volumes.

“So, we’ll reach Dodge Junction tomorrow.” He said conversationally, “Any idea what ya’ll do when ya’ get there?”

“I don’t fully know.” She motioned to her ankle, “With a leg like this, I’ll just be moving very slow.”

“Well…ya’ll could stay, right?” Braeburn whispered, “I mean ya’ left ya’ home for adventure. I’d say nearly dying in a rainstorm and ending up in a settler pony caravan is adventure enough.”

“You’re offer is welcomely received.” Zecora said with blush. She had thought about staying for the last few days. Braeburn and his sister were decent folks and she was sure she could find a nice living in whatever town the caravan founded. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the handsome cowpony next to her. Would it really be so bad? Life on the range, working every day and falling asleep with a deep sense of pride? Part of her longed for that, but another part, a restless part, wanted more.

Braeburn wanted to start a new life for is sister. Zecora wanted to live hers for the first time. She wasn’t ready to settle down yet. She wanted to explore; to go on adventures and make a name for herself. Much as she would like to stay, she knew she would just be in the way. She didn’t have the heart and passion to be a settler pony and it wouldn’t be fair to burden the Apple family any more than she already had.

“I fear if I stayed you’d be nothing but grieved.”

“What? Pony feathers!” Braeburn said with a laugh, “Ya’ll is great company Zecora, make no mistake.”

“But my heart is not here.” Zecora said sadly, “I don’t want my sense of adventure to simply disappear.” Braeburn was silent for a moment.

“I’ll be sad to see you leave.” He said softly and Zecora blushed. She leaned against him and sighed at his warmth. It felt strangely right to be this close to him.

“As I will but my spirit has an urge to fly.”

“Life on the range will get pretty boring.” Braeburn laughed and Zecora smiled at him.

“Braeburn, you have much more patience than I.” She said and touched his hoof, “But I still want to see a hundred different skies.”

“Sounds like a hell of an adventure.” Braeburn said with a laughed. Zecora became aware how close their faces were. Braeburn gulped and scratched the back of his head.

“Seeing’s how this is your last night with the caravan, I want you to have something.” He took the book he had been reading and hoofed it to her. Zecora touched the worn leather cover gingerly and looked up at him.

“But this book brings you so much bliss.” She tried to hoof it back, “ I…I cannot accept this.”

“From me.” Braeburn said softly, “So you don’t forget your time here.”

“Ha!” Zercora laughed and shook her head, “You’ve done so much for me and I hate there is no way I can repay.”

“Aw, shot Zecora, meetin’ you was the best thing that’s happened this trip.” Braeburn laughed. The two locked eyes and Zecora smiled knowingly at him. He was so close to her that her mind felt muddled. All these days being in this small wagon with him had caused unknown feelings to stir within her. There was something about this stallion that was truly unforgettable. Braeburn reached into one of the sacks of food and fished something out.

“Here” He said and handed it to her, “Don’t go tellin’ Cobbler I gave ya’ this.”

“What is it?” Zecora asked curiously. It was small and wrapped in paper.

“Chocolate.” Braeburn said with a smile, “ I was savin’ this last bar for a special occasion and this seems like the right time.” Zecora tore a small corner from paper and snapped off a piece. She sniffed it carefully and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes widened. It was rich, creamy and delicious. It was like nothing she had ever tasted before. Braeburn laughed at her reaction.

“That good huh?” He said with a grin.

“I’ve never had such flavor!” She said with a grin, “You were right to think this was something worth to savor.” She unwrapped some more and broke off a chunk. She held it out to Braeburn and he smiled. He sat next to her and munched on the piece. He closed his eyes and let the piece melt in his mouth. Zecora, on the other hoof, tore into the remaining bar like a foal. It was gone in seconds and she sighed happily. That was amazing.

“Uh, Zecora?” Braeburn chuckled, “Ya’ll have food on ya’ face.”

“This was such a delicious feast, but I apologize if I ate like such a beast.” She said and tried to wipe the smear away. Braeburn chuckled and took her chin in his hoof.

“Let me.” He whispered and gently brushed her cheek. Zecora sighed and leaned into his hoof. It was so warm and comforting. She put her unbroken hoof on his and smiled at him. Their eyes locked and Braeburn’s hoof cupped the back of her head to pull her the final few inches.

Their lips met in a blissful display of pent up tension. Zecora pushed her tongue into his mouth, tasting the lingering chocolate there. Braeburn groaned into her mouth and pulled her closer. Zecora pressed herself against him and sighed into him. His lips were dry and rough, but there were everything she imagined they would be. For his part, Braeburn tasted that tingling spice on her lips and loved it. She was so exotic…so other. Zecora let herself fall to the make-shift bed she had been using and Braeburn fell with her.

“Lie with me here this last night.” Zecora whispered to his ear, “Please, before I must leave your sight.”

“I…are sure?” Braeburn whispered between furious kisses, “I won’t be able to forget you if we do this.”
“Remembrance is the key.” Zecora said with a smile, “These feelings we have are shared, we agree. Do this so you always remember me.” That was enough for Braeburn. His desire for the exotic zebra took over and he captured her lips in a burning kiss. He pressed his body tight against her. Zecora moaned his name and wrapped her good arm around him. Their tongues danced in a hesitant way, neither really knowing what they were doing but unable to stop. Zecroa tried to undo Braeburn’s vest with one hoof, but she groaned when she couldn’t. Braeburn smiled into her lips and undid the vest himself. Zecora took the hat from his head and flung it to the side.

“Braeburn? Zecora?” A voice suddenly called out. The two broke away suddenly as a face brushed away the wagon canvas. Apple Cobbler peeked through and gasped. “Sweet Celestia!”

“Cobbler?!” Braeburn gasped. Zecora hid her face in his firm chest. Her face burned with embarrassment. She had never tried seducing a man before and it had been going so well to. Braeburn was the perfect stallion to be her first mate. She tried not to glare at Cobbler.

“I uh…that is we…” Braeburn stuttered and his sister broke out into loud guffaws.

“Oh hoo hoo nelly, I am never letting you two live this down.” She said with a evil grin, “Now before ya’ll go any further, come eat with the camp, otherwise every pony will know it’s just the two of you in here together.”
Braeburn and Zecora gave a collective sigh and the zebra let herself melt into the earth pony’s embrace. Cobbler left laughing and the two looked at one another

“And now that my lust has been bereft, I find my appetite has all but left.” Zecora sighed. Braeburn laughed and kissed the top of her head.

“Then how about ya’ll come keep me company?” He asked, “I’m sure I could use a zebra by my side tonight.” Zecora smiled.

“Such an offer I cannot refuse.” She blushed, “Best to get there quick so Cobbler cannot spread her news.”

0000000

The following morning the caravan pulled into Dodge Junction. The entire town was alight with activity. Celestia had approved several new warrants of travel for settling companies and the race was one to settle the West and garner the princess’s approval. A dozen different caravans, some with the same desitnation, others bound for distant lands, packed the small trade town.

Ponies and animals of a dozen races kicked up great clouds of dust as they traded. Mole diggers traded their skills and tools to would-be gold miners. Oxen offered themselves as carrying beasts for high prices. Ponies from every edge of Equestria gathered to trade and travel. Some traded raw materials or food stuffs. Some acted as guides, both sensible and fraudulent. Others decided to stay in the town and open their own stores. The Cherry family was trying to but a plot of land to start a farm and bakery in the small town.

Zecora walked hoof-in-hoof with Braeburn through the small town. She enjoyed all the sights and sounds. It was so much different than the savanna. Back home, patience was the name of the game. A zebra could go hours without seeing anything come through the brush. Here, there were hundreds of different ponies and animals going about their frantic business. Braeburn’s hoof tightened on Zecora’s and she leaned closer to him. She hobbled on her bad leg and used the cowpony to support her. She had her traveling cloak on and her knapsack was slung over her back. Braeburn’s book was tucked safely away and the Apples had given her once last priceless gift by fully resupplying her at the corner store. Zecora felt a sense of gratitude towards the cowpony that she knew she could never repay.

They arrived at the train station a few minutes later and Braeburn sat the zebra down on a bench and quickly went to get her a ticket. She had no idea where she was really. None of the towns on the destination list would be familiar to her, but she trusted Braeburn implicitly. He would never send her someplace dangerous. If anything, he would send her someplace safe and she would have to find her own danger. Zecora grinned as the thrill for adventure began to burn in her breast.

“Zecora?” Braeburn returned a few minutes later and sat down next to her. He had a hoof full of paper with him

“This ticket will get ya’ to Bitter Springs.” Braeburn hoofed her the bundle of paper, “Form there this other ticket will take you to Ponyville. There’s good folk there and it’s near Canterlot. I reckon ya’ll could go anywhere from there.”

“Words alone cannot express my gratitude.” Zecora smiled at him, “You’ve had nothing but the most generous attitude.”

“Ya’ll is special, Zecora.” Braeburn whispered, “I just wish ya’ll the best.”

“Many things I have left to do, but know Braeburn I will always remember you.” She said and put her hoof on his. They smiled at each other and he helped her stand. Zecora leaned against him, sighing at his familiar warmth. She felt pangs of guilt and loss at the idea of leaving, but her spirit was restless. Maybe when she had calmed down and her travels were over she would return. She nodded to herself. She would return when she could offer Braeburn the type of fillyfriend he deserved and needed.

They reached her train.

Train 8 to Bitter Springs. Zecora felt her heart beating fast in her chest. She was excited and filled with dread at the same time. The weeks she had spent with the cowpony had been so happy and carefree it would be hard to leave it behind. Braeburn seemed to sense her thoughts and kissed her cheek.

“Do ya’ think ya’ll gonna come back?” Braeburn whispered softly. Zecora looked up into his eyes with a sad smile.

“Many things there still are for me to see and do.” She whispered back, “but I want nothing more than to come back to be with you.”

“Ya’…ya’ could stay.” Braeburn said and Zecora knew he was serious, “I mean I’m just a settler pony but life on the range can be full of adventure.”

“You have a sister and a town to found.” Zecora tried to keep the sadness from her voice, “Your responsibilities I have no wish to compound.” Braeburn opened his mouth to protest but Zecora kissed him instead. The lips melded together and it was just as sweet and amazing as the first time. Somehow she still tasted like spices and Braeburn felt his blood rush. When she pulled away, Zecora embraced him.

“Soon your life will be filled with stress.” She said and stroked his cheek, “Without a marefriend for you to obsess is the only way to reach success.”

“How will you know where I’ll be? How will you find me?” He asked. He tried not to worry and to tell himself it was a simple crush, nothing more. But the thought was weak in his mind.

“The heart is a strange and wonderful thing; I believe the spirits want mine to sing.” She touched her chest then touched his, “Worry not my wonderful cowpony. I’ll be back before you even get lonely.”

“I dunno.” He said with a grin, “It’ll get lonely awfully fast out on the trail.” Zecora smiled and blushed slightly.

“That is good news to my ears. Won’t be long before I’m out on the frontier.” The train whistle blew loudly and the conduct called out.

“All aboard!” Braeburn looked over at him then back to the zebra and tried to hide the tears brimming in his eyes. Zecora brushed them away and shook her head.

“No tears my friend; this is not our end.” Zecora fought to keep her own from spilling.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Zecora.” Braeburn said distantly. He stepped back and tipped his hat to her. Zecora slung the pack over her shoulder and turned to board the train. She stopped and looked back at him.

“I did.” She said and left.

Breaburn saw her briefly through the window of the train car before the whistle gave one final, somber blow and the train began to move. Braeburn removed his hat as the train pulled from the station. He was about to turn back when the back door to the train opened and Zecora stepped out. Braeburn was about to call to her when she let something go into the wind. Their eyes locked and he nodded at her with a weak, but happy smile. Zecora turned and the door closed behind her.
Braeburn caught the fabric as it blew in the wind and smiled at it. it was the piece of her cloak that he had found in the thunderstorm all those weeks ago. He had assumed she would sew it back to her cloak, but apparently she had kept it separate. Braeburn tucked it into his vest. Not it was his keepsake. His reminder.

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What do you think? Worth continuing?

By the way, writing in rhymes is really hard. Seriously this chapter almost had me in tears so any advice and I’m all ears.
Let me know.

Comments

[Artistic Dreamer]

First Chapter: AMAZING! You wrote Zecora beautifully! On to Chapter 2!!!!