"What's the big deal? I just wanted to say hi to my mom."

"You raised her from the dead, Zecora!” the elder pounded a hoof on the ground.

"I missed her. I really don't see why my talking to her triggered you all so much."

"Necromancy is a serious offense, as you are well aware. The punishment is either death or banishment after drinking this poetic justice." The elder carefully lifted a bottle from his saddle pouch. "Either way, no more talking to the dead!"

"Well, if those are my options..." Zecora grabbed the potion from the elder's hooves. "Bottom's up!"

She curiously looked around but silent was the crowd, no zebra dared to make a sound.

"So, what was in the brew?" On the ground the bottle she threw. "What does this potion do?"