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// 2 - Distant Tracks 
// Story: Ponyfinder: Potions and Swords 
// by David Silver 
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"I cannot help but to see, for this climate you are ready to sightsee." Even without his cloak, lent to Zecora, his clothes looked warm and rugged, perfectly suited for snowy environments. For that matter, his cloak was proving mercifully warm against her back.

"I wasn't expecting it," John assured with an upraised hand. "But I'm also not complaining." Crunching through the snow, he raised an arm to cover his face against the wind. "Assuming we didn't get dumped on some forgotten world, there has to be some hint of society if we keep going straight."

"I could be wrong, this is another assumption." She pointed to a scraggly, if large, tree they were approaching. "You could climb that with far less consumption." Not that she couldn't climb, but hands tended to make the task far easier when available.

"You want me to climb that?" He closed with the tree, studying it critically. With the sound of metal, he drew his sword and prodded at a branch. With a firm shove, the branch snapped like a brittle twig, crashing to the ground. "Glad I wasn't on that." He circumnavigated the tree, encouraging the weaker branches to give up rather than risking they do so as he ascended. "Keep an eye out for more wolves."

Zecora turned around to do just that, putting her back towards the tree as she scanned the surrounding forest. "Move with all due haste. I feel we have few hours to waste." A glance at the sky above showed that night was coming in not too long.

Scaling the tree, one foot and hand at a time, John began to raise into the canopy, at least until the world began to move far more quickly than he had planned. He snagged a branch, falling, but it slipped from him and he crashed to the ground with a wheeze. "I'm alright," he assured as he climbed back to upright. "Let's... try that again."

More watchful for what was almost clear ice, John made his way up slowly, almost hugging the tree. But it was working, and the forest they were in became something he could see, rather than just being lost in it. There, in the distance. "Can you see that?"

But, of course, Zecora could not, though she was trying to look in the direction he had indicated.

In the darkening evening, it was hard to be entirely sure, but... "I think I see smoke, and it's moving." Smoke usually meant civilization, or a forest fire. Moving smoke... He wasn't sure what that could have been. Did that world have cars? He did a slow turn of his head, trying to see whatever else could be in view. "The forest. It... ends that way." He pointed in... he wasn't entirely sure what direction it was, but he could see the end of the forest that way. It was, of course, opposite of where the smoke had been moving.

He slid down, finding the downward motion to be far easier than the upwards one as he hit the ground with a soft thump of boots in snow. "We have smoke that way, and the exit that way." He directed a thumb in one direction before pointing in the other almost opposite direction. "We can hope the smoke is people, friendly people, or just focus on getting out of the forest."

Zecora pointed off in neither direction. "Looking around, there was something to spot, Predators that way, let's not be caught."

John considered where that direction lined up with the others. "Closer to the smoke." Barely, still... "I vote we get out of this forest."

Zecora began to move, plodding through the snow towards freedom. "One thing I should note, the forest may serve as a coat. A lack of trees will not banish the snow, Towards a worst place we may go."

"Yeah, maybe." Still, onwards he went, she with him. "Zecora--" His words cut off, seeing her eyes widen as she huffed.

"That is the second time." Her ears flicked softly. "How is it you know that name of mine?"

Crap. He had said his name, but she had not returned the favor. "It means zebra." Technically true! "And matched you."

Zecora raised a brow, flicking her earring. "I see. How interesting that meanings of the same came to be. Zecora is not a word in the same tongue, Even in the way you just flung. Was this your true intent, to bring me here, was it you that sent?"

John bemoaned his idea of out-linguisticing the rhyming zebra. She had seen right through him. "I didn't meant to drag you away from whatever you were doing, but I have... heard of you." Was hearing of the right term? "You're a story, where I'm from."

Her brows went up together. "I have done little deserving of such fame. Especially among humans, how I became so known you knew my name."

It was his turn to be startled. "You know what humans are?"

"I see one." She pointed at him. "Standing before me. What other creature could he possibly be?" She was smiling in a knowing way. "I do not mean to tease. It was a friend that told me of these. She visited a world of many of yours. She came with many tales of that trip of hers." She hopped up and walked along a frozen log. "You lack a mark."

"A cutie mark?" He had revealed more of his knowledge without thinking about it. "Nope, none of those. People don't  have those where I come from."

"It will soon be dark." She sighed softly, veering off towards some bushes. "Where my friend went, the humans had marks, sewn onto dresses and pants. As if they were making up for what nature had deprived them, without a birthmark." She wriggled under the thorns and vanished from sight.

He spoke strange words with a snap of his fingers, bringing into being a mote of light that floated there, following the motions of his body. Able to see in the increasing gloom, he followed Zecora to find there was an abandoned (he hoped) den there under the brambles, safe from the wind and some of the chill. "Huh, this works for tonight."

Zecora's eyes were on that glowing ball. "Humans I knew were also not wizards. Have you a spell to keep away blizzards?"

"That would be handy, but no." He settled in, bidding the light come down out of easy view from the outside of their hiding place. "I only know a few tricks." And he wasn't even 100% on knowing those. He assumed... "Alright, so, let's be honest."

Zecora raised a brow, but said nothing, watching him.

"Right, you were already being honest." He smiled a little. "Nothing bad, just... probably really strange sounding."

"My ability to accept the strange I challenge you to test." Settled with her forelegs crossed on the ground in front of her, Zecora was still watching him patiently. 

"Right." He hiked a thumb at himself. "This is not how I looked this morning."

"You seem quite calm." She raised a hoof to run along the rings at her neck. "To most, such an event would be like a bomb."

"Yeah..." A muted reply, that. "This, what I am." He gestured over himself broadly. "This is a character I made, for a game about adventure and discovery."

Zecora's ears perked, but she was quiet.

"I have the same abilities, even if I never had them before, like the spells." He wriggled gloved fingers. "The less I think about it, the easier it comes. Look, to be blunt, this is kinda awesome, even if painful at times."

Zecora inclined her head slowly. "What a dull life you led, if all you want now is to feel dread. Was there nothing waiting for you at home? I think it strange that you would prefer in such a place to roam."

"It's not that... I'm not scared." He frowned with thought. "I feel like... I'm confident I can get through this, if I don't do something dumb. It's a chance to be a real hero."

Zecora set her hooves flat, rising up to her haunches. "I hope you will pardon this thought, but like a foal do you trot. Unaware of yourself and bored with what's there, you prefer an exciting tale rather than facing boredom's despair." She inclined her head. "I was quite content, working my brew. I think I know what happened, and that thing was you." She pointed at him accusingly.

That instant and forever between worlds was difficult to know much of. "I wasn't trying to drag you away from where you were. I didn't even know you were involved until you already were. This wasn't what I planned, at all." He turned to peer out into the darkness. "Planned or not, right now, we should get some rest."

"In this you have a point. Hopefully tomorrow's voyage will not disappoint." She settled in place and turned her head to rest on a hoof in a makeshift pillow. "Goodnight, John."

A phrase without a possible rhyme? He could point it out... but she was probably tired of him doing that. Or... Or! He could help without making a big deal about it. That seemed like a better idea. "See you at dawn." He flopped onto his side and closed his eyes.

Hopefully their random encounter roll would come up well.





He woke to the feeling of something hard nudging his cheek. Opening his eyes, he saw Zecora was seated next to him, prodding his face with a hoof. As he sat up in a scramble, she moved the hoof to her lips in a bid for silence.

He rolled over to look outside of their shelter where several dumpy figures were scampering around. Biped, big noses, little horns, green colored. Like... off goblins? Friend or foe, hard to tell just looking at them. John nodded at Zecora, agreeing with how she had approached the situation. Getting him awake, quietly, had been the best course of action.

It was morning, easily told by the fact that light spilled over things. His light had long ago gone out, and that was perhaps for the best. No need to advertise their presence. "We can wait for them to go," he whispered. "Or risk saying hi."

Zecora inclined her head. "If we hide from all that is strange and new, Then never would I be talking to you."

"Point..." Still, she had woken him up. She was willing to try talking, but having the swordsperson up and moving was still a good idea. An abundance of caution. "Let's try being nice." He drew himself up over the lip of their borrowed den. "Good morning!"

Their motions stopped, glaring at him. They had weapons, clear to see as they drew them quite rapidly. The largest of them was yet unarmed. Confidence? "Who are you?" He pointed at John. His voice was a bit reedy, but as confident as his footing.

"Just a traveler." John shrugged softly as he dusted himself off of brambles and twigs. "You happened to set up near my camp. We just both got lucky."

The goblin barked out a laugh, which his fellows joined in on. "Luck. I coulda been a pony patrol. You got real lucky."

Pony patrol? "Don't get along with the ponies then?"

The goblin slapped a knee, prompting more laughter from the others, but he wasn't laughing. "You must be a merchant. Give us half what you have and we let you go."

"Sorry, just a traveler." He held up empty hands. "All I got is what I'm wearing, and this sword, and you're not getting that."

The goblin grumbled with a scowl. "The worst kind. Whatever, get out of here." He waved John away. "No point stealing what ain't there."

Almost... But he knew Zecora was watching, waiting for a chance to get away. "About ponies."