//------------------------------//
// Apple Bloom's Shadow 
// Story: Zecoroota 
// by Kodiologist 
//------------------------------//

Becora was walking back to Sweet Apple Acres with Apple Bloom, who hadn't thought to bring her homework with her. Becora had wondered worriedly if her memories had been cut in half like her colors, but everything looked familiar. She felt remarkably like herself for a zebra who had just accidentally used a powerful potion in an unintended manner with completely unforeseeable results. Come to think of it, she surprised herself by her sudden disinterest in rhyming. It didn't take an alchemist to guess that that had something to do with the potion. But she supposed it was a nice change of pace, if nothing else. And perhaps Apple Bloom would appreciate a bit more straightforwardness.

"…and then she keeps goin' on about 'solving', and what's there to solve, anyway?" Apple Bloom was saying. Had she been talking before? Oh, well. Becora figured it probably hadn't been very important.

"Uh-huh." said Becora.

"So, you can help with this, right?" said Apple Bloom. "I mean… you went to school, right? In the zebra country?"

"Of course." said Becora. "Shamans need to know some mathematics. I'm sure I'll be able to help you. Don't worry about it."

"And you're okay?" said Apple Bloom with concern. "After the… potion thing?"

"Actually, yes. I feel better than ever."

They arrived at the farmhouse and sat down at the kitchen table. Granny Smith, knitting in a rocking chair, fixed Becora in a steely gaze. "Amazin'ly thorough dye job, Zecora." she said with a sniff. "I guess you can do some marvy things with them plants and roots. Got any blue rinses?"

"One thing at a time, please." said Becora.

Becora looked at Apple Bloom's homework assignment. The theme appeared to be algebra for babies. The first question was "Solve for x: 15 − x = 3", and the height of complexity reached over the course of twenty problems was a word problem about a pony named Marshmallow Smiles buying and eating apples. At least Apple Bloom couldn't complain that she'd never use these concepts in real life. She'd copied out the problems in neat mouthwriting, but there were no answers or scratch work on the paper yet. She watched Becora read a bit sheepishly.

"Where are you having trouble?" said Becora.

"Er, well, uh, I dunno where to begin." said Apple Bloom.

"Let's start with Question 1, then." said Becora. "What could we do to make this equation simpler?"

Apple Bloom stared blankly.

"Right now, x is negated. Is it simpler for a term to be negated, or not?"

"Uh… not."

"So what could we do to both sides of the equation to make x no longer negated?"

"Uh… I dunno."

They made slow progress. Becora was soon convinced that Apple Bloom wasn't merely foggy on the details, but that she hadn't picked up much of anything about algebra from Cheerliee's lectures. Poor Apple Bloom—Becora felt so bad for her, just thinking about how little she knew and how much of an uphill battle this subject would be for her. Becora tried to be more generous with hints.

"And what's the opposite of multiplication?" she was saying.

"Subtraction?" said Apple Bloom.

Becora shook her head.

"Addition?"

Becora shook her head.

"Plutification?"

This simply wasn't working, Becora thought. Teaching somepony elementary algebra from scratch in one afternoon was unrealistic. A more hooves-on approach was called for. The important thing was to get this assignment done, and do what she could for Apple Bloom, who had long counted on Zecora's help.

"So, if two x plus two is ten, we can subtract two from both sides, and it follows that two x equals eight." Becora was saying. "Right?"

"Uh, right."

"So then we can divide both sides by two, and that yields x equals four, right?"

"Right."

"So write that down."

"What do I write again?"

Well, this was just silly—it was math homework, not mouthwriting homework. So Becora went ahead and filled in the steps and the answers, too. That was a lot faster. Finally, they were done.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" said Becora.

"We did it!" said Apple Bloom. "Thanks, Zecora!" She hugged Becora, and Becora beamed.

"Of course." said Becora. "What else can I help you with, while I'm here?"

"'What else'?" said Apple Bloom. She scratched her ear. "I didn't mean to ask you for anythin' else. I'm sure you got lots of other things to do."

"Oh, it's no trouble. Tell me whatever's bothering you."

"Well…" Apple Bloom looked around the kitchen. Granny Smith was snoring loudly in the rocking chair. "Maybe you could give me some advice about how to talk to Big Mac. He's been playin' with my Silly Simians all the time, and y'know, I'm happy to share, but then he leaves 'em in his room and I can't get 'em when I want 'em. And he always avoids me when I try to ask him."

"How rude." said Becora. "I thought better of him than that. Where is he now?"

"Uh, probably upstairs, but I was just—"

"Let's go talk to him now, then." said Becora.

Becora trotted up the stairs. Apple Bloom, feeling very unsure about this, went along. Becora strode up to Big McIntosh's bedroom and flung the door open without so much as a knock. There was Big Mac, wide-eyed as if he'd been caught stealing from the cookie jar, squatting at a tiny table with a tiny pink tea service. At the table sat a troop of pastel-colored stuffed monkeys, accompanied by a beaten-up old doll with button eyes. Becora stared at Big Mac disapprovingly.

"I was just cleanin' these up." Big Mac muttered.

Apple Bloom was unprepared for a confrontation this sudden. She racked her brains. "Uh…"

Becora could see that, again, poor little Apple Bloom was flummoxed. No wonder she'd asked for Becora's help. Well, judging from Big Mac's reaction at being found with the toys, it was clear enough how to handle him. "To think!" said Becora. "A grown stallion, stealing his little sister's toys. Give those back at once, you bully. And act your age."

Big Mac blushed so intensely that Becora could see it over his tomato-red fur. "Eeyup." he yelped, and hurriedly began carrying the table back into Apple Bloom's room, almost spilling the tea. As soon as all the toys were moved, he bolted down the stairs.

"Big Mac, wait!" Apple Bloom called out. She heard the front door swing closed.

"There." said Becora. "You won't have that problem again."

Apple Bloom made a little sigh. "I guess so."

"What shall I help you with now?" said Becora, patting Apple Bloom on the head.

Apple Bloom winced. This half of Zecora was trying to be helpful, and she was… mostly. She could just be a little rough around the edges, Apple Bloom supposed. There was no question that she knew a lot about lots of things, like math, and potions, and plants. Wait a minute… plants?

"Oh, horsefeathers!" said Apple Bloom.

"Hmm?" said Becora. "What's the matter now?"

"I just remembered—I was so wound up about that homework, I forgot about my chores. I still have to weed the carrots."

"Don't you worry about it." said Becora, heading downstairs. "I'll take care of it."

"Now hang on, Zecora." said Apple Bloom. "That's my job. You don't have to do it. I mean, you can lend a hoof if you want to, but it's—"

Becora tut-tutted. "Don't worry about it. You're just a filly, and you might mistake a carrot for a weed. I'm an expert on plants."

"I'm a farmin' filly!" said Apple Bloom hotly. "I know a weed when I see one!"

But Becora was already outside, diligently pulling up weeds, and shooed Apple Bloom away when she tried to join. Apple Bloom could only watch and shake her head in bewilderment.

Finally, as sundown approached, Becora tore out the last weed. She waved toward the Apples and turned back home, pleased with a day's work, and already thinking to herself about what she could do for poor little Apple Bloom tomorrow.