Despite the fact that Sundiata and Nuru were there with her and quite friendly, Zecora couldn't find much to talk about. The three passed the time remembering old songs, poems, and customs common in a zebra's childhood, such as the song about how all creatures are connected, and the ceremony performed on one's thirteenth birthday, until the Elements of Harmony returned from the banquet late that night.
From a distance, Zecora could see Applejack and Rainbow Dash leading the pack; as they drew closer she could tell that the two reeked of spiced ale. The smell was familiar to Zecora, but it had been years since she'd had any... though after a day like hers, she could've stood getting drunk. Applejack stumbled about awkwardly on her hooves, and Rainbow's flight patterns were erratic like a fly.
The cyan pony hiccupped and laughed. "Hey Applejack, I bet you can't eat more of the soup than me...
"That was some party, that was... I must've eaten... FIFTEEN o' them little fruit thingies." Applejack managed to drawl out.
"Hehehe... the soup." Rainbow muttered drunkenly in a thought that went nowhere.
"I can't believe they went and got themselves drunk..." Rarity murmured to Fluttershy, trying to hide her shame over such uncouth behavior. She, after all, had only had a little bit of ale while nopony was looking.
"Somehow, I didn't expect anything less." Twilight butted in.
The two inebriated ponies entered the hut first and began to climb into their hammocks. Something they'd had with them now sat by the door; it appeared as though they had brought back some more corked gourds full of the festive beverage. Nuru's eyes perked up with a little smile before her brother quietly reprimanded her, reminding her she wasn't considered old enough to drink.
"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII call the top bunk!" Rainbow said enthusiastically, drifting down into the fabric and belching.
"Can't hear ya, I'm asleep!" Applejack said sassily, clambering with difficulty into the hammock below hers.
The two had already fallen asleep as the other delegates prepared for their slumber, producing a noise equivalent to an Ursa Major with a respiratory illness.
"Great." Groaned Spike. "First a drinking contest, now a snoring contest."
It didn't take long for all of her friends to drop off to sleep, as well as Sundiata. Zecora, finding herself restless, chose to sit outside the hut, listening to the chirping of crickets and the crackling of the fire as she watched the fireflies dance. Before Zecora could get very deep in her thoughts, however, she was joined outside by Nuru.
"Nuru, why do you not sleep? Have you come to enjoy this night so deep?"
The younger mare nodded with a smile. "Though my name means 'born during the day', I've always enjoyed the night more, I daresay."
Zecora chuckled internally. "Luna would like this one."
Nuru continued to speak. "By this mark on my flank, I am a stargazer; stars tell tales of warriors and courageous trailblazers. By conveying their stories to those who will listen, I compel young foals into dreaming, into action!" Zecora smiled and looked to the stars herself. A storyteller, eh? She could remember dark nights from her distant childhood, sitting around a communal fire with her mother and listening to other stargazers weave their tales. It was hearing tales of shamans, mystics, and fakirs of the past that inspired her, and her mother before her, to become a healer.
"A fine profession you've found, Nuru. I see your Cutie Mark quite suits you." Zecora replied. "But what of your brother, what role plays he? What does his mark compel him to be?"
"My brother still searches for his true lot in life--" Nuru began, before being interrupted by a rather loud noise from said zebra's sinuses. "...I'll say this, I pity the colt's future wife."
Zecora chuckled. "With looks like his, I'm surprised he's unmarried. A stallion his age should have admirers most varied."
Nuru rolled her eyes and smiled. "Brother's job doesn't give him enough time to date, and a poorer-classed colt doesn't draw many mates."
"And what about you, a pretty young filly? At your age, I was getting proposals willy-nilly."
At this, Nuru blushed, giggling, and concealed her face before putting her nose to the stars and looking at Zecora from the corner of her eye.
"There have been some offers, but frankly, I don't care. If we're being honest, well... I'm only interested in mares."
Zecora blushed some herself and laughed, a little surprised at Nuru's forwardness. "A secret I'll keep for you in trust." She jutted a hoof back inside the tent. "I think some of the Elements are too, to be honest!"
The two zebras laughed under their breath, although the snoring coming from inside would've put a brass band to shame.
"What do you think they'd see in a girl like me?" Nuru added, inciting more laughter from them both.
"I've enjoyed getting to know you, Zecora. My sorceress' sense detects a kind, friendly aura." The younger zebra turned to enter the hut.
"I'm glad you don't believe what the other zebras think." Zecora said with a smile. "I'd like to move on; my follies are written in ink."
The two mares exchanged good-nights in Zebrish before Nuru went to lay down. Zecora remained by herself for several minutes, watching the stars as her new friend had been. After several years, she could still pick out the constellations unique to the southern sky and recall their names and stories. As she thought back to her mother first telling her the story of the crane who flew to the heavens, something struck her: this same group of stars was plainly visible from her own village. In fact, she could still remember how to navigate home by following those stars.
She wondered... could she find her old home even now?
Careful not to wake anypony, Zecora trotted off into the west.
Staring forward into the darkness, Zecora instinctively tore across the land in the direction of her home, occasionally glancing skyward to wayfind. The road from her village to Zanzebrar was long and little-used, but she knew it well. She'd been jogging along a path straight out of her past for about 20 minutes, and already she'd seen several landmarks familiar to her, unchanged from her childhood. Soon, she came upon a thicket of forest, and charged through it without hesitation, knowing her village to be just on the other side.
The cool night air rushed against her face, wicking away beads of sweat as she trampled through the underbrush. She could feel her childhood memories growing stronger as she went further along the route; this had to be it.
"Next is the large rock..." she thought, shortly before dashing past a large, moss covered boulder with a tree growing out of its top.
"Then, the sign..." Zecora galloped past an old, decrepit signpost, its lettering long illegible, though at one point it told the distance to her village.
"Now, the river..." As she came upon the calmly trickling waterway, Zecora noticed that the large wooden bridge that once arched across the river's run had since rotted away and collapsed. Undeterred, Zecora sped up and cleared what was easily an 8-foot gap in a single leap.
Feeling like a filly again, Zecora prepared herself to break through the other side of the woods, unsure of what she would see.
…
Zecora's hooves came to a hard stop on dusty ground.
She panted and looked around.
It was as she had expected: long-since abandoned.
Several clusters of vacant huts were scattered about, some practically untouched by time, but no less sullied by nature. Boards had rotted, thatch was leaking, stones had fallen out of place; even the plants were dead. Once beautiful flower gardens were barren and grey, and the little ornamental tree near the village center was a dry husk of its former self. Zecora walked slowly through this desolation, taking it all in and remembering what it was like when she'd last seen it. Nozebra had lived here for a very long time, and chances were this place had been forgotten by every zebra in Zanzebrar, most likely because it was already small, and because it was where Zecora came from.
Judging by the state the village had been left in, everyzebra had probably just moved out. Zecora couldn't see or sense anything to suggest that they'd been taken out by disease, monsters, or war. Most likely, it was just a little backwoods town whose time had been used up. Looking into what were once family yards, Zecora could see burial plots that had been there longer than she'd been alive. Countless generations of different zebra families had come into this world--and left it--from right here in this village.
And then, something caught her eye, bringing a lone tear to it.
Off, on the outskirts of the settlement, with its roof half caved in, was a very small, one-room hut: Zecora's home. The place where she had been born twenty-some years ago.
And in its shadow was the grave of her mother.
Zecora choked back the lump in her throat and made herself leave, heading back towards Sundiata's village.