//------------------------------//
// Next Door Neighbors 
// Story: Mum's Diner 
// by Golden Tassel 
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Within the forest nearby Mum's Diner there lived a village of zebras. Well ahead of dawn, while the rest of the tribe still slept soundly, Kijiba took advantage of the early morning privacy. In the peaceful solitude under the dim moonlight that filtered down through the tall trees, he walked to the clearing by the river's edge to exercise until the songbirds began heralding the coming of the sun.

Kijiba washed away the sweat of his workout in the river, dried off and covered himself from withers to hooves under his hempen cloak. He gathered two buckets of water from the river and carried them on a yoke across his shoulders to a massive elder willow tree with a large hollow into which his home was built. There, he was able to conduct his studies out of sight from his tribemates. 

He lit a small fire within the hearth and set a clay pot over it to boil water for his morning tea. This particular brew required a special ingredient that Kijiba kept inside a dedicated cabinet. Though his current supply was more than enough to last him several months, he took a moment to inspect the recent harvest which was still in the process of drying. They were flowers with broad, deep blue petals. Though these flowers were notorious for causing a wide range of unpleasant effects, it was only their pollen that was responsible for this. By carefully removing their stamens and rinsing them, Kijiba had rendered them safe to handle.

After collecting a few of the dry petals, Kijiba set them into a small clay cup. Once the water was boiling, he poured it over the petals and left them to steep for a few minutes while he opened the heavy tome on his table. On the page before him was an incomplete charcoal rendering of a long and wickedly curved horn. From the drawer under the table, Kijiba retrieved the horn itself to resume his work. He was just about to press his stylus to the page when there came a knock at his door.

Kijiba opened the door. "Chrysanthemum!" he said, quickly embracing the unicorn. "Day," he continued with a nod to the pegasus. "What a joyous surprise to see you both again. It's been too long. And who is this with you?" he asked, noticing the wide-eyed earth pony foal they had with them.

The boy made a series of hoof gestures.

"His name is Sunrise, and he says your garden is very beautiful; he's never seen so many different flowers," Day said, interpreting. "He can't speak, but he's been teaching me the sign language his mother taught him."

"Thank you, I take special care to include as many varieties as I can find. And how wonderful to see someone so young passing on knowledge. Please, come inside," Kijiba said, ushering them into his home and closing the door. He knelt down to eye-level with Sunrise and smiled. "Hello, Sunrise. My name is Kijiba."

Sunrise flicked his hoof under his chin.

"That's the sign he's using for your name," said Day. "On the way here, I suggested he use the sign for 'answer' because it's the closest word I could think of that shares a root with your name."

"Close enough." Kijiba nodded. "Are you feeling well, Sunrise? May I have a look at you?" After a brief examination, Kijiba stood up and turned to Day and Chrys. "I see no sign of injury or deformity that would preven—" He stopped abruptly as his voice cracked, shifting upward in pitch.

Kijiba cleared his throat and sat down at the table, quickly drinking his tea. He took a deep breath and put on a disarming smile. "Excuse me," he said, his voice now returned to its normal tenor. "He has been chronically malnourished, but appears to be in good health otherwise. I'm afraid I don't know why. . ." He noticed a strange look from Chrysanthemum.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, pointing to the changeling queen's horn on the table.

"Oh. Yes." Kijiba quickly stowed it back in its drawer and closed his book. "I'm sorry. Have I disturbed you?"

Chrys shook her head. "It's fine. I just wasn't expecting to see that. They haven't returned have they?"

"I remain vigilant, but the tribe has shown no sign of their influence, and the local fauna populations have been recovering. I believe you were correct: without their queen, the drones have abandoned this place."

Chrys muttered under her breath—a vain hope that they had all starved. "Good." She smiled. "Thank you for checking over Sunrise, but there's actually another reason we brought him here: Day was able to learn that he escaped from slavery, and I'm worried that somepony might be tracking him. Everypony else from the diner is away on salvage, and they aren't due back for another week, so I thought it might be safer for us to hide out here until they return. Is that alright?"

Kijiba leaned back in his seat and heaved a deep sigh. "Were it up to me, absolutely. But what you ask. . . I cannot speak for my tribe. Such a decision belongs to our chief." Hesitantly, he added, "I will bring this matter to him."

"That's great. Lead the way."

"I'm sorry, but the chief is very suspicious of outsiders. Ever since the changelings were unmasked, he has kept himself isolated from all but his trusted family. It is difficult even for me to meet with him."

Chrys balked, "But you're the shaman. And we're—"

Kijiba took hold of Chrysanthemum's hoof. "I know. I will help you no matter what. But the chief will not see you. While I speak to him, why don't you go down to the river? Just follow the path over the hill to the clearing. Sunrise can get cleaned up there, and I will meet with you as soon as I'm finished."

Chrys sighed, nodding. "Thank you."






Chief Kudumu Asili was an elderly zebra whose black stripes were mottled with gray and his left pupil was clouded, nearly white from cataracts. He wore a heavy gold torque around his neck and sat atop the throne of the first chief of all zebras (or so it was said to be), carved from ebony with intricate, though tarnished, silver filigree inlays. The throne was atop a small raised dias overlooking the long, dust-covered banquet table inside the village's lodge.

Upon the chief's head was an elaborate headdress of phoenix feathers worn by every chief since the founding of his village. Many of the feathers had since fallen out, leaving a noticeable gap on the right side, and Kudumu had to frequently adjust it to sit level across his forehead.

Kijiba had once found reference to the headdress in the book written by the tribe's first shaman; it described the construction using red dye and chicken feathers. He kept this to himself.

"Chief Kudumu Asili, thank you for agreeing to—"

"Who is this before me? Has my beloved Swali returned to me?" Chief Kudumu leaned forward, squinting. "I see no child of mine, only a crude imitation. Perhaps you are a changeling usurper here to entrance me."

"There is no Swali. I am Kijiba. Please, I am your shaman and I bring an important matter. You must hear—"

"Already you presume to tell me what I must do," the chief scoffed. He slouched into his seat, resting his cheek on his hoof. "Speak, shaman. What ill portent have you seen in your latest augury?"

"Ponies of Mum's Diner have come to me seeking—"

"Send them away." Kudumu waived his hoof dismissively.

"They bring a child—"

"We have enough children of our own to care for."

"He has escaped from captivity, and they fear they will be unable to protect him while their kin—"

"So you would surround them with the lives of my own kin?" Kudumu banged on the arm of his throne. "I should send you away with them for even considering such a foul notion!"

"These are the same ponies who helped to free us from the vile changelings. We owe—"

"We owe nothing to no pony!"

"Father—"

"You have no father!" he yelled, leaping from his seat and raising a hoof as if to strike.

Kijiba remained still as the two of them locked eyes.

Kudumu turned away, his arthritic joints creaking as he stiffly climbed back onto his throne. "Go. Return to your perverse magicks and do not let me hear any more of ponies within my home."

Kijiba walked slowly out of the hall. As he reached the threshold, he glanced back over his shoulder. "You will know where to find me." Once outside, he raised the hood of his cloak and kept his eyes low, avoiding contact with any of his tribemates along the way back to his home on the village outskirts. There, he collected a number of his things and loaded them onto a small cart, pulling it behind him as he went to find his friends by the river.