Midnight. Zecora awoke: outside, a shovel scraped against dirt. Carefully, she exited her hut.
A voice?
“…I’ll show them! Criticizing Trixie’s conjurations, insulting Trixie’s sleight-of-hoof, Trixie was performing for charity…”
Digging a pit, a shadow levitated a box, opened–
Zecora’s lantern lit up. “Returning to your older tricks?
It seems your lesson failed to stick.”
Trixie froze. Rising out: the alicorn amulet.
Blushing, Trixie disconnected the amulet’s gemstone. “Back off! This part contains the curse!”
Zecora tensed. “If you pursue this reckless course,
I’ll be obliged to use great force–”
Whereupon, Trixie dropped said gemstone back into the box. “Oh, fine! I was going to sell the ‘de-cursed’ amulet secretly, thus raising charity money I failed to make. Sure, rub it in!”
Sighing, Zecora smiled. “Your pride may slink in shadows, true,
But really: ask before you do.
Though meaning well, good works and pride
So rarely ought to coincide.”