Sins Of The Father

by Mr. Mister

Morning As Night

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“KAF! URGH! GAK!” I spluttered, dust and flem spraying from my mouth in equal measure. It felt like I’d taken a walk in a sandstorm with my mouth jammed open.

The world swam into focus as I opened my eyes. More dust and dirt made them water. I shook myself and rubbed my eyes with a hoof. What had I been doing last night?

As my vision cleared I could make out I was in some small stone room. There was nothing in it besides me and whatever was lighting the room with a pale white flickering glow. The dust was still hanging heavy in the air. Air which tasted like it hadn’t been breathed for a while. In front of me was an opening, a doorway without the door. The light didn’t go far beyond it, petering out into the black. It wasn’t as if I had anything to do in a bare, and actually now I realised it rather cold, room so I slowly walked a little unsteadily forwards.

Beyond the doorway was a twisting corridor, still of the same bare grey stone. The white glow had somehow moved out with me to show me, well nothing actually but it was rather nice of whatever it was. I looked around me but there wasn’t anything to see that’d fit the culprit. That was rather less important than ‘Where am I?’ though. Other open doorways lined the curving corridor, one directly across from where I’d woken up. I moved forward.

I never forgot that first sight in there. The doorway lead onto a room exactly the same as the one I’d been in, except for the statue of a pony. Whatever pony had made this statue wasn’t right in the head. Sure, the work was incredibly realistic but why carve a look of utter terror? One that made you feel the statue’s fear, the sensation of both mortification and total despair. It was worse that it was a mare. She was sitting on her haunches, one forehoof behind her scrabbling backwards, the other outstretched towards me, her eyes begging me to not do it. The engraved tears were the last straw.

I hadn’t realise I’d stopped breathing the stale air as I backed out into the corridor, the statue of despair fading back into the darkness. That was worse somehow. I didn’t want to see it again but I also couldn’t shake the feeling that if I did it would have moved slightly. The white glow had dimmed a bit as well. Good morning so far…

I somehow willed my legs into moving again as I walked along the bending corridor. My mind was still in that self-assessment state you have when you wake up. Where am I? What’s going on? Who am… Now that is a good question. Who on Tartarus am I? Huh, I think I should’ve thought of that sooner. Or maybe not.

The glow was still following me and was steadily growing brighter. This was bad. Mostly because as I passed the seemingly endless doorways I could see inside each one of them.
A running stallion, another with a young mare on his back with another terrified expression, an old mare holding a crying filly, an old stallion facing something down with sheer rage, another mare laying down covering her eyes, a family huddled together with the father protecting them with his body.
My pace had quickened unconsciously to a trot, then canter. Now I was outright galloping down the endless corridor, my hoofbeats echoing around me in a maddening cacophony.

I was weeping. I tell myself it was the dust and bad air. That was what slowed me in the end, halting against the wall as a coughing fit took me. A low wail of frustration and I’ll admit it, fear, came from my throat. Its echo was worse, like it was the sound of the statues themselves. I beat my head against the wall, willing myself to wake from this nightmare. Apart from the fact it hurt, and sadly confirming this was no simple bad dream, the glow diminished again. It was the best act of self-abuse I’d ever done.

In front of me was a second glow. Not the same as the one tagging along with me, a shaft of silver. The moon!
Outside!
Freedom!
Lack of creepiness!

I ran, still coughing, to the light. It was the end of the looping corridor. To the side was the start of a staircase that had long since been buried by rubble from above. This was not important. The loose stones letting in that gorgeous sight was. I was stiff, tired and my mind was messy to say the least but I reared up and let that wall have what for.

Clearly I’m not as strong as I imagined.

Apart from chipping my hooves the only result was a small widening of the gap. The cool night air that came through it was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted. I think. I couldn’t stay in this prison so I resigned myself to pounding on that stonework until… a really long time had passed.

It could have been minutes, hours or days later but no more progress had been made. The light and air were taunting me now. That made me angry. More than angry. I was bucking livid!

“Let!”
Thump.

“Me!”
Strike.

“Out!”
Kick.

“Right!”
Buck.

“NOW!”
Headbutt.

Clearly my head was most useful as a blunt instrument as that final desperate attack gained me my liberty. A small hole, large enough just for a small pony or a particularly desperate one, had been created. Without any dignity I wriggled through and into the night.

The same grey stone greeted me but the supposedly simple addition of the night sky made it beautiful. I was sprawled on a small stone ledge. It was broken along one side, leaving quite a drop to the forest below that stretched further than I could see. The full moon bathed the scene in silver. I got up, somehow even dirtier than I’d been before, and looked around. The ledge must have been part of a greater building at one point before time and the elements had broken it. Thankfully what had remained was a stairway to my left. My dusty overcoat leaving a trail behind me, I began to climb.

Above me was a square building, large, looming and abandoned. The stairs joined another set that led to it and another smaller but more open ruin. Beyond that I could just about see more of the forest and… A bridge!
Nopony had lived her for a long time, that was clear enough. Plus getting as far away from here seemed the biggest priority right now. Okay, I was still lacking in the memory department but you can’t remember things if you’re dead.
So, escaping time then.

I clattered down the staircase and through the smaller ruin past some kind of thankfully non-realistic sculpture of a large ball and sticks. Whatever, not important but crucially not creepy. The wooden doors were wide open, asking me to use them for their intended purpose. So I did. The wooden rope bridge outside was, rickety would be charitable. However, what was behind me was worse than mere ricketyness so I carefully crossed without the looking down part.

I hadn’t noticed how high up I was. There weren’t many clouds but they were all beneath me, hanging over the forest. The forest was huge as well. All the way to the horizon was green apart from a few mountains way off in the distance. In front of me was the remains of a trail. With only hope that it still lead to somepony, I set off into the woods.

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Zecora was not having a good time.

Not only had the last bout of Feather Flu used up several of her hardest to acquire ingredients but Applebloom taking the last flower of Heart’s Desire of the season had left Zecora without the ability to make a rather personal potion for a rather prosperous pony. Living in the Everfree Forest may remove certain expenses, like rent or taxes, but foraging for food as well as ingredients would have driven Zecora into the ground long ago. Plus the tastiest treats always cost bits.

Ever since those six ponies had burst through her door, assaulting her in the process but that was in the past now, Zecora had become much more accepted by the residents of Ponyville. Of course there were still those that surreptitiously whispered to each other when they thought she wasn’t looking or the occasional old pony that pretended she didn’t exist. That was to be expected though. In her travels to the west, Zecora had had to deal with far worse cases of prejudice and ignorance so that was all rather mild to her.

The plain brown pouch tied around her barrel already contained many of the more common but still useful bounties the forest had to offer. Sure, having to lure away a manticore just for a quick pluck of Xander Root was a bit much yet all potions required base concoctions to work from. Having to hide inside a spider-infested fallen tree to avoid one of the darker and more tragic denizens was. Those… things always left the feeling that you’d somehow been sick inside your own brain.

Again, Zecora was not having a good time.

Fireflies danced in the air all around. Their greenish-yellow glows mixed with the moonlight to make the already eerie forest stranger than it already was. Froggy Bottom Bog wasn’t too far from where Zecora was and the humid air and wet ground showed it. Getting dirty wasn’t an issue for somepony that lived in a forest but having to keep an eye out for threats in the water as well as up and around the trees required levels of concentration that a tired brain would have trouble conjuring up. The insect noises were always louder at night even when the forest wasn’t lit up like a meteor shower by the white glow of the fireflies…

Zecora stopped and frowned. White glow? When something in the Everfree Forest changed it was rarely for the better. The glow was coming back away from the swampy parts of the forest, moving steadily yet slowly between the trees. The only things Zecora knew that lived around here that glowed white were the will-‘o-the-wisp, insects from deep in the Bog that were incidentally on her collection list for the night. She moved towards the light.

Zecora was hesitant at first but if something was abroad that she hadn’t encountered yet it was better for her to sneak up on it rather than the other way round. With practiced ease she silently glided across the wet ground almost on her belly. The wind, what little there was on this still night, blew towards her. This new creature couldn’t see, smell or hear her. Zecora did not let her field craft lend itself to arrogance. That would get her hurt. Or worse. As she closed on her target she moved one eye around a tree trunk to see…
Zecora wasn’t expecting to see this. Her first thought was of a ghost, quickly dismissed since she already knew what they looked like and this didn’t look ethereal. Mostly.

Walking in profile in front of her was an Earth stallion. A bit of a lanky underfed one, dust and dirt smearing his leaf-green coat, but that was dancing around the obvious. His mane, tail and even orb-like cutie mark were on fire. For some reason this didn’t appear to bother him. As he slowly walked on, looking all around him with a faintly puzzled expression on his face, Zecora could see things weren’t that simple. The ‘fire’ was white all the way through. It flickered like the real thing and was clearly the source of the white glow that had attracted Zecora’s attention. How it had not attracted the attention of something that would have liked a flame-grilled late night snack was a wonderment. The eyes were strange as well. The pupil was normal but where everypony had colour in the iris this stallion just had white surrounded by a black border.

Her first idea was this stallion was doing a weird dare or bet. He wouldn’t have been the first pony Zecora had found out in the forest and out of their depth. It had always fascinated her just how removed from the natural order of things Equestrians were yet still how simultaneously entranced and afraid of the real natural world they were. This idea she dismissed since they were far enough out in the forest for this stallion to either be very brave or very foolish. His expression of good natured bemusement didn’t support that. Her second idea was this was a changeling. She’d heard of their attack on Canterlot, maybe this was a straggler. But why would it choose to copy such a strange, attention-grabbing pony? Zecora realised it wouldn’t. So this really was just some odd looking pony wandering around a dangerous forest in the middle of the night.

Zecora’s final thought was that some unicorn had magically pranked this pony and he’d somehow wandered deep into the Everfree Forest by accident. She settled on this idea given what little she knew and, having first settled a hoof on a vial of flash powder in her pouch just in case, stepped out to greet this oddity.

“Good sir, I-”

“AAAAH!” The stallion’s gasp of surprise cut off Zecora’s greeting. He’d jumped clean off his hooves, stumbling around to face Zecora with a pale green face. Zecora took her hoof out of her pouch and gave a hesitant smile. Nothing that dangerous was this skittish.

“Good sir please do not be alarmed. I assure you that I mean no harm.” Zecora’s perpetual rhyming lilt couldn’t sound threatening if she tried. The stallion had backed himself up against a tree as she’d spoken. His look of fright had moved into one of mild embarrassment. He coughed into a hoof and said,

“Si‘a daai, meung sa‘-du‘ng yo‘hng ka‘a…”

Zecora blinked a couple of times. This was no language she’d ever heard or even heard described. It had a sing-song delivery but with a low guttural accent. She tried again.

“Can you understand me? Or may I as well be talking to the trees?”

The blank face she received was the international ‘no’. She breathed out a small thankful sigh and said through a smile,
“Oh thank Gilgamesh for that. Seriously, you have no idea how hard it is to rhyme every single thing that comes out of your mouth.” The stallion only responded with a bewildered smile.

Zecora gave a little laugh. Okay, this pony might have no idea what she was saying but it was a relief to talk without the constant rhyming. She walked up to the glowing and confused stallion and sat on her haunches in front of him, “Look, it‘s just a habit I‘ve got. Equestria has this stereotype, I don‘t know if you know, of Zebras rhyming everything. Some old stories from centuries ago. I just adopted it to keep them at their ease, you understand? Oh, well I guess you don‘t.”

The stallion’s mind was not a good place to be. Not only had he had the worst morning-slash-waking up-time he could remember, not to mention the fact it was the only time he could remember, he’d gotten lost in a forest of sinister noises and eyes in the darkness and now there was some stripy pony spouting gibberish at him like its all a joke.

<“Ma‘am?”>, he said holding a hoof up to silence her, <“I don‘t understand a word you‘re saying. I glad to see somepony else, believe me, but unless you know the way out of here this isn‘t going anywhere.”>

Zecora thought for a moment in the increasingly awkward silence. The language barrier was not merely tough, it was impenetrable. They may as well have been making foal noises at each other. Time for a different approach. She raised a hoof and tapped her chest,
“Zecora. Zeecccoooooooorrrrraaaa.” She drew out her name, making it as simple sounding as possible. This was communication at its most basic.

Is that her name?, thought the stallion, It must be.
He pointed a hoof at her, raising a questioning brow,

“Zicoora?”

Zecora smiled and nodded. It was progress. Flawed, but still progress. She repeated tapping her chest,

“Zecora. Zecora. You?” She pointed at the stallion as she asked, hoping he’d understand.

Ah, she wants my name, thought the stallion, Well so do I, sorry lady.
He shrugged, an apologetic look on his face. At Zecora’s raised brow he elaborated. He tapped a hoof against the side of his head a few times and rolled his eyes before grimacing.

He doesn‘t know his own name?, thought Zecora, What happened to him?
She quickly ran through her options. She could just leave him here but that was out of the question. It wasn’t right. She could take him to Ponyville and see if somepony could help there but it was the middle of the night and nopony would be around. She saw she really only had the one choice. Zecora stood up and placed a gentle hoof on the stallion’s shoulder,

“Well Mr. Shrug, looks like you‘re staying with me tonight. You‘re lucky I‘m a nice zebra.”

An awkward smile was exchanged and Zecora turned to go home. She’d only gotten a few yards before realising the white glow wasn’t moving with her. She looked over her shoulder to see the stallion still standing against the tree, the seemingly permanently etched expression of perplexity still there. She snorted good naturedly and smiled at him, beckoning with a hoof in the universal ‘come on then’ manner. The stallion understood that, trotting along quickly to catch up.

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Zecora may as well have been travelling on her own. If it wasn’t for the white glow and occasional ’eeph’ noise she’d have forgotten her odd companion was there. The journey was thankfully uneventful. She hadn’t been looking forward to translating ‘Run the buck away, its timberwolves!’ to Mr. Incomprehension.
Zecora scolded herself mentally for that, The poor stallion has clearly had something bad happen to him you silly filly. How would you like somepony taking fun from you being in a predicament like him?
She unconsciously looked over to the stallion with an apologetic smile but he was scanning the forest, apparently convinced something was going to jump out at him. As it well might.

Zecora’s knowledge of the forest led them on a looping route around nests and lairs, taking longer than she normally did but with a presumably inexperienced and frankly obvious target with her they couldn’t afford to attract any untoward attention. Her hut came up ahead out of the darkness, the lights she always left lit whenever she went out giving off a welcoming luminosity. Her pace quickened, always glad to be home, and her companion followed. Her nose was just about to push open the door when a thought flashed across her mind.

The stallion had almost bumped into her as she stopped and turned around. Zecora smiled and reached out to him. He apparently trusted her somewhat as he didn’t move as she drew her hoof through his fiery mane. She hadn’t felt any heat from him on the journey back but taking an uncontrolled fire indoors, especially when indoors is made of wood containing several very flammable items, is a extremely bad idea. Describing the feeling of his mane later was hard, Zecora found. The best way she could was ‘as if cotton wool and warm wood smoke were one and moving around your hoof’. Odd certainly, but not unpleasant. Satisfied that her guest wouldn’t burn her home down around her she ushered him across the threshold and shut the door behind them.

The stallion stared at his new surroundings. The inside of the tree had coloured bottles of numerous shapes and sizes hanging from the ceiling alongside bundles of plants, even more bottles on shelves all around the large single room, weird masks on the walls and rugs on the floor beside a large cauldron. He didn’t know what to think but he knew it was better than his last experience of the great indoors. The stripy pony had shut the door behind him and made her way to a bench under the shelves he’d noticed, grasping a ladle in her mouth and ladling water from a large jug into two simple wood cups. She waved him over again and proffered the water.

<“Thanks.”> he said casually, lifting the water to his mouth with a stream of fire.

Zecora’s eyes widened as her pupils shrank when a line of white fire, tracing through the air like a whip, arced from the stallion’s mane and grabbed one of the cups, encasing it in a ball of fire that somehow didn’t burn the wood.
Her mind analysed the sight with the speed of one that lives in near constant danger and came to a singular conclusion, That’s like unicorn telekinesis!
Yes, it was different certainly but the way the fire wrapped around the cup was like the glow of a unicorns magic. Except his had a literal line in the sky to its source.

The stallion had taken only a single sip when he notice the stripy pony’s expression. As if he hadn’t realised he was doing it, once he noticed what he was doing he had the same reaction. The fire winked out from around the cup and retraced back into his mane. The clonk of the cup hitting the earthen floor seemed louder in the silence.

“How did you do that?”, asked Zecora, a hoof tracing through the stallion’s mane again in wonderment. The stallion stayed still for a few seconds before shaking his head as if to clear it. He looked at Zecora with a worried look before simply shrugging again. Evidently his catch all response. Zecora removed her hoof,
“No matter. Let‘s try that again.”
She picked up the fallen cup in her teeth and promptly refilled it. Pushing it along the bench to the stallion she watched with interest.

He just looked at the cup, almost as if he was having a staring contest with it. A few seconds later an exasperated grunt came forth and he just rammed his muzzle into the cup to drink nosily and directly. Zecora chuckled quietly.
Well he’s a normal colt in some ways then, she thought.
She joined him, going over the top in her noisy drinking. He spluttered a bit into his cup as he laughed with a mouthful of water. The silly noise made Zecora do the same and soon the awkward tension that’d been between them since they’d met was diffused with laughter more reminiscent of school foals than grown adults.

Rubbing her face dry with a foreleg, Zecora smiled with genuine warmth at her guest. He returned it as if he hadn’t truly smiled in years. It was a good smile. The bout of laughter had made Zecora notice how tired she actually felt. She walked to her bed and pulled out a couple of blankets from beneath it. Dragging them over to the rugs on her floor she dropped them and turned to the inquisitive looking stallion,
“OK, time for bed Mr. Comedian. I‘ll take the rug, you can have my bed. And you‘d better appreciate that.”

The stallion started to protest, apparently, once he’d realise what Zecora had meant but a few insistent gestures and nudges from her and he soon clambered into her bed. As Zecora arranged her blankets and blew out the candles she noticed the white glow had faded. Looking over at her houseguest flopped atop her bed she could see the steady rise and fall of his side, his flames smaller and moving less. At least he wasn’t lit up like a torch at all times. One of the things Zecora like the most about living in the Everfree Forest was how dark and quiet it could be. Having a roommate like a permanently lit pony-sized candle wouldn’t help that. At least he didn’t snore.

Zecora took off the pouch she’d been carrying all day and placed it on the bench. The sight of it dulled her good mood somewhat. With her encounter with Mr. Mystery she’d never collected all she’d intended to.
I’ll have to be out first thing otherwise I’ll never get it all, she thought as she slipped underneath her blankets, the rug cushioning her well against the hard floor. Zecora looked over at the stallion, outlined as he was in the now dim light of his own glow.
And what do I do with you Mr. Shine?, she thought as sleep started to take her, What's your story? Can you tell me? Do you want to tell me? What… do… I…

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Unfortunately Zecora did snore.

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Comments

[Machiniman20]

Very good so far. I would like to see more of this.

[DOUGHBOY1908]

NOT FIRST SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Mother3Forever]

I am quite eager to see what you have planned for the next installment.....

I shall be waiting.

[jon666]

Gah...The only thing I didn't like was the use of I so many times, especially at the beginning. Other then that. When is the next chapter being released?

[Mr. Mister]

872128
Thanks indeed This is my first fic so I'd like to hear what you enjoyed about it.

873323
Try again next week buddy

874531
Hopefully something else you'll enjoy
Thanks for the fav too

876343
Thank you for the heads up. I'll (sorry) probably redo this opener at some point with a larger vocabulary.
And in answer to your query, middle of next week I guess. Depends on work n' all that. Cheers for the watch too

[Machiniman20]

876348
To be precise, your writing style is good, I like how you characterized Zecora as not having to rhyme, The idea of a flaming mane is interesting, I wonder what you're going to do with that in the future. All in all, very good writing!

[deathtap]

Do go on...