“Are we there yet?”
“No,” the weaselly vapor answered.
For hours Doubt flew through the barren frozen wasteland in a constant heavy snowstorm. It didn’t bother it, however, due to the lack of physical body. On the other hand, there was another issue it had to deal with: the mass of black stone that needed to be escorted to the designated destination, it couldn’t just leave him behind, as he carried with him a necessary object for furthering the plans. He was not made of flesh and blood, so the weather didn’t affect it, but that didn’t eliminate the main problem, especially now that they’ve been ascending a tall snowed hill.
“You are so slow, Scourgelord,” it groaned. “Too slow. At the rate you’re going, both the Broodmother and the Shaper will have found the umbrum prison before we have claimed what we need.”
“Oh there you go again with the codenames… why are you so insistent on using them?” the construct argued. “We’re not exactly being in a covert-ops right now, there’s nobody around here that could be eavesdropping on us… unless you’re afraid that the snow-covered hills have ears?”
It sighed. “I refer to them that way because it’s their purpose of existence. Chrysalis is the Broodmother of the changelings, it’s her duty to keep replenishing the swarm so it doesn’t die out, Grogar is the Shaper because he has the power to shape creatures as he desires, and you… well, with what you’ve done in your life is it any wonder you have such a fitting title?”
“Well, I don’t like it! It doesn’t fit my character. If you have to use a title for me, use the one I’ve had the whole time. I’m the-“
“Rug rat?” An imitation of a grin formed on Doubt’s face after it said that, and not a moment later, its form was shredded, as a giant black arm came down on it and went straight through, but in the end, its vaporous form simply reassembled. “Oh? Struck a nerve, have I?”
“Don’t you DARE call me that!” the construct raged.
It playfully coiled around the hooded pile of rocks. “It’s not like you have the power to stop me.”
“Oh really…?” He raised his right arm and opened it, revealing the broken horn of the umbrum king. “You know if you’re not nicer to me I could just as well-“
Before the construct could say anything further, the shadowy vapor instantly slithered in front of his face, its eyes peering into the opening of the hood. “Before you say anything further, I want you to consider the following: should you try to show any form of defiance, I may not be able to hurt you, but step out of line and I can go fetch the one who most certainly can. He brought you back from oblivion, he can do the opposite as well, and considering the pace at which you’ve been going since yesterday, even if I leave you here all alone, you wouldn’t get far before he catches up to you.” Doubt lay down on top of his head. “So, what will it be… Scourgelord? Would you like to taste the silence of oblivion again?”
The howling wind was the only thing that lingered in the air. The construct didn’t say a word. Instead, his hand lowered, and without a word continued marching onward up the snowed hill.
“Yeah… I didn’t think so.” It slithered off and moved forward.
They didn’t get a few feet further than the top of the hill before a familiar question followed. “Are we there yet?”
Doubt groaned, its form shivering in frustration. “This is the 367th time you asked me that since we got on track yesterday…” Its form then returned to slick, the tone of voice back to calm whisper. “But yes… we’re here.”
Flatlands opened before them. At first sight, there was no discernable difference between the frozen wasteland they’ve tracked through for hours and this place. However, the snow fell very lightly, and as they advanced a bit further, there was a noticeable form, or rather formation, rising up before them. A giant red gemstone was sticking out of the ground, surrounded by a cluster of smaller stones, the dim light of the north ever so slightly giving them a noticeable glisten.
“My child…” the feminine voice spoke on the wind.
The construct stopped dead in his tracks, looking about. “What was that noise?”
Doubt slowed down momentarily. “Oh? So you finally hear the mother’s voice as well? Come on, stop lagging behind.”
Not a few steps did he make before the voice spoke again, slightly louder. “Where is my child…”
“Who is this mother? What is she?” the construct asked, a noticeable nervous tone in his voice.
The shadowy vapor giggled. “That lump in your throat… figurative one, is panic, slowly setting in. Dare you guess what follows?”
The construct continued to move, but there was a visible change in his behavior: his steppes hesitantly moved forward. There was something at the back of his mind, a dreaded feeling he has never felt before and only did after he woke up again.
“First, the pupils dilate,” the weaselly vapor floated next to the crystal, preaching, “then the muscles tighten…”
Every step he made closer to the crystal formation, the feminine voice kept growing more foreboding. “Where is my child?!”
“…hysteria replaces sanity and finally…”
“WHERE IS MY CHILD?!” the feminine voice turned to fury, invading the construct’s mind.
He clenched his head, swinging about trying to get the invading shrilling voice out of his head.
“… fear shatters the mind,” Doubt finished.
He tumbled down, rolling in the snow, still holding on to his head, but this time cries of terror followed. “Make it stop!!!”
The slithery shape finally decided to stretch out its tail and touched the surface of the red crystal formation. A quick flash happened, after which the construct finally stopped tossing about in the snow, going still.
“This one…” the feminine voice spoke, originating from the crystal. “I remember… Doubt…”
It nodded. “It has been too long...”
“How delightful that you finally came,” the mother said. “But I am confused… why bring a golem with a consciousness of another thrust in it?”
“This one,” it proceeded to explain, “has a gift for you, one that only he could have delivered.”
The construct finally got himself on all fours before going into a sitting position, its head rising, looking in the direction of the slithery form and the red cluster.
“Come, Scourgelord,” Doubt urged him, “present to mother that which she covets most.”
He rose and slowly trudged in their direction, and as he stepped before the red cluster, which was just about his height, he opened his right palm and presented the item.
A prolonged gasp followed from the crystal. “The child has returned… after too long… I want to speak with him.”
He waited unmoving before the slithering shadow gave him a prod. “Well don’t just stand there, give it to her.”
The construct clenched the broken-off red horn between his three fingers, and have it touch the surface of the crystal. A small shockwave followed and lightning shot out from the crystal, coming in contact with the horn and began to levitate it.
“Now, child,” the feminine voice spoke, “reveal what your eyes have seen, what your ears have heard… what thoughts you had thought…”
The moving pile of rocks took several steps back to avoid making contact with the horn, as it moved in his direction and then stopped. “So… what happens now?” he asked.
Doubt simply slithered to his side and landed on his shoulders. “We wait... and watch.”
It was another peaceful day in the Crystal Empire. Ponies were going about their usual business, not expecting anything special to happen. But among the crowds on the street, two stood out: a little alicorn filly, happily trotting along, followed by a tall cloaked figure, with a strange elephant bird creature on his back. Of course, everybody in the Empire already knew Flurry Heart and greeted her as she passed by, but the other one remained inconspicuous despite his suspicious-looking appearance.
“How long before we get to this place you said you knew earlier?” he asked.
“We’re almost there, grandpa Gar. Just a little bit,” she answered.
Just then, the ground began to quake. An army of royal guards was running down the street, and the cloaked one had to halt the filly and pull her to the side so she wouldn’t get trampled. Then the sunlight dimed for a moment and they noticed a vast group of pegasi guards flying overhead in the same direction as their ground counterpart. When they all passed, the child was finally let go.
“What was that?” she wondered.
“Probably something bad happening outside the town,” he responded. “All the more reason we should hurry.”
Flurry Heart gave him a nod and she ran, or at least she ran at the speed where he only had to trot to keep up.
Trudging through the barren wastes of the Frozen North, the Council of Friendship and the three participants made their way, hot on the trail of their quarry. As it was predicted, even with the constant heavy snowfall, its deep trails remained visible. As they were on their track for a few hours, the Princess of Friendship took her time to get the Storm King’s former lieutenant up to speed on the events that have led them to this point.
“Twilight, you should’ve informed me asap on what was happening,” Tempest said. “Were I there, several situations you’ve gone through could’ve been prevented.”
“I don’t think so, Tempest,” the alicorn answered, “there was no way for any one of us to predict things would’ve gone the way they did. It wasn’t until yesterday that we finally understood how bad the situation actually was.”
“If that’s the case, let's hope that, whatever that thing you’re hunting down is, we can catch up to it before it actually does something bad.” She stopped and looked back, seeing the rest of the group behind her, except for two who were pacing further away than they should’ve. “Hey! Hurry up in the back, you two! You don’t wanna get lost in the snowstorm, do you?”
Rainbow Dash and Zecora were moving forward side by side, their conditions giving them difficulty with keeping up with the rest of the group, and the strong wind forced them to lean on one another.
“How about YOU get lost already,” the blue pegasus grumbled in frustration under her breath. “Right, Zecora?”
The zebra didn’t answer. The wonderbolt glanced to her side to notice she had her eyes closed.
“Zecora, are you asleep?!” she raised her voice.
The shaman slowly opened her eyes. “Rainbow Dash, I assure you that’s not the case. To combat the current situation, I’m trying to think of another place.”
“What good will that do?” the rainbow-maned pony wondered.
“To fight the cold I think back, to a time in a scorching land, when first I met the cold unparalleled, and remind myself how worse it went when it got pushed too far to the other end.”
The blue Pegasus looked about the frozen wasteland, before turning back to her. “Care to share it? I could go for some warm thoughts right now.”
Zecora laughed.
“Zecora!” the elder zebra called. “It’s time to go!”
The little zebra dragged a little pack around, putting things inside, and bursting with excitement. Her father needed to go on the journey to gather some specific reagents that could only be acquired from places outside the village and its local area. After bearing witness to the gather of all the other tribes of Farasi so long ago, the little zebra’s curiosity got piqued, and after days of begging and pleading she finally convinced him to take her along. For the first time, she was finally going to see the land outside her village and she was so excited. There were some waiting outside the hut, however, who weren’t too keen on the idea though.
“Why does she get to go?” the elder sibling complained. “I’m older, I can help father better than she can.”
“You just want an excuse to not work out in the field, Sanaa,” her mother called her out.
Her eldest daughter grumbled, knowing she got caught trying to skip work, meanwhile the tribal matron looked to her significant other, who, besides his usual attire, carried a pair of saddlebags. “Dear, are you sure she should go? Maybe she should wait until she grows up a little more.”
The High Shaman smiled. “I understand you are concerned, but the rewards to this test must be earned. Challenges and experiences give way to growth; a plant in the soil is no different, for sunlight and water, it needs both. Thus she needs the right elements to carry on with her developments.”
The little filly finally turned up through the cover door of her house, with the pack on her back and a giant grin on her face. “I’m all set, fada!”
“Wait at the village’s edge, I’ll see you there, this I pledge,” he told her.
As the little zebra trotted off, the two elders faced each other one last time. “Take care of the tribe while we’re gone-“
“- So it shall be done,” she finished his sentence before their heads touched one another and rubbed in a tender moment.
With that, the stallion departed and went after his offspring.
The elder mare looked to her daughter, who was still making a face of displeasure. “Come now, Sanaa, those weeds won’t pull themselves.”
Despite her quickened steps, the father was easily able to overtake his younger daughter in terms of speed, walking in front of her. The path took them through the tall grasses of the savannah region, the distance where Zecora herself didn’t recall ever venturing as far on her own before. Soon, however, she crashed into his backside, as he stopped.
“Fada, what is it?” she asked and traipsed to the front.
Her breath was taken away. Only a few hooves in front of them, the grass and soil ceased existing, and the only thing she saw was sand, mountains of it, as far as the eye could see.
“Zecora, your first test begins now. We’ll trot across the desert as if tied to a plow,” he told her. “Southeast we will go for a day and a night if we’re not slow, 'til Chinjaio ahead will show.”
She looked at him, confused. “Who’s… Chin… jai… o?”
“You will soon know,” he reassured her. “Best not to worry, though. You’ll see it in time, for now, let’s go.”
Without further ado, the high shaman marched into the sandy hill. Zecora didn’t wait long before joining him, only to realize she may have gotten ahead of herself, as her hooves sank into the sand; she had to raise her hooves quite a bit, to make sure she wouldn’t end up dragging through the whole way. Despite the setback, she quickened to catch up to her father.
They traveled southeast, over the vast dunes, on the scorching sunny day. The little zebra soon realized how difficult the trial before her was. She was used to the heat back home, but now, where the sun’s heat rose because of the sand, it became nearly unbearable; and she was to walk all the way to the destination for a whole day. Hours had already passed, and the sun was slowly beginning to set on the horizon at their back. A giant rock stuck out of the sand on their way, at which point, the High Shaman finally stopped.
“We’ll rest here tonight, our destination tomorrow will appear in sight,” he said. ”Over the ridge, it waits, ready for us until our weariness abates.”
“But fada, if it’s so close, why don’t we just go there now?” she asked. “The sun will go down soon and it’ll be much easier to go the rest of the way.”
“I cannot condone it, little one. You’ll thank me tomorrow when we can both go on.”
“But-“ the filly tried to argue, only to be shot down.
“You only need to wait a little while and you’ll soon see what will wipe away your smile.”
The stallion walked over to the rock and took cover by it. The little zebra still couldn’t understand what he was on about, as he opened his bag and dragged out straw, kindling, and some old wood, proceeding to light up the fire. What was he thinking? It was already hot as it was and now he was lighting another source of heat despite all of it. She turned back to face the setting sun on the horizon. As the last ray of the sun slowly went away with its setting, Zecora could already feel the heat beginning to drop; it was going to be a nice stroll, so they could easily avoid another exerting trial from today… She would soon, however, change her tune. As the sun finally disappeared and the light dimmed, the temperature kept dropping further and further. The little zebra suddenly felt chill all over; she’s never felt this cold at night back home, it was downright freezing! Another light source finally caught her eye, as her father managed to light the fire and she immediately rushed to it.
“Fada, what’s happening?!” she yelled between her clattering teeth.
“’Tis the Kuhama Desert, a land beyond mercy or measure.” the high shaman explained. “By day the blazing sun reflects itself upon the sand, but come the night all heat abandons the land. Had we gone the rest of the way, we’d have fast perished to our dismay.”
The little zebra huddle closer to the fire. “At least we won’t be cold now.”
“The fire’s mercy is temporary, hence I brought this for I was wary. Alas, I’ve no other which is complementary,” the elder one said as he dragged out a sleeping blanket, warping himself in it, and then noticed a desperate look on his child’s face.
She didn’t bring hers. Even though her mother told her to take it, she didn’t think it would’ve been a big deal. She wasn’t aware that the situation would’ve turned the way it did. So, the prospect of having to survive the cold night once the fire went out wasn’t something she was looking forward to. She shook her head in shame.
The stallion sighed and opened the cover. “Come little one, we’ll share the heat this time.”
The little filly traipsed over to her father and nestled herself in front of him, and then he closed the cover. Her teeth were still clattering, but as time passed it slowly faded away, and the dancing fire was slowly mesmerizing her to sleep.
“Rest now, Zecora,” he told her, “sleep well. When dawn arrives we’ll journey for another spell.”
And with those last few words, the little zebra dozed off.
It came with the first spark of light, announcing the beginning of a new dawn. In the shelter of the giant rock, Zecora finally woke up, the warm embrace of the blanket around her, yet somebody was clearly missing. Her sight readjusted slightly and noticed her father, sitting down facing the direction of the rising sun.
“Ah, you’re awake at last.” He turned to her. “Let us pack and move fast.”
“Wha?” she mumbled as she wasn’t quite there yet. “But we didn’t eat yet, fada.”
“When we reach the trail’s end to our bellies we’ll tend. Now fully awake, or under the sun we’ll bake.”
The child groaned. She just wanted something to fill her belly, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.
The High Shaman pulled out a gourd from his saddlebag, offering it to his daughter to slake her morning thirst. “Drown your hunger, for an hour or two. By the time we arrive, you’ll have something besides morning dew.”
After she’s had her fill, she packed away the blanket, and the two continued their march. They finally managed to climb the tall sandy hill before them, and when they did, Zecora beheld an unexpected sight and she finally completely snapped for the morning daze. In the distance she could see a single white cloud in the air… or at least it looked like a cloud, considering it was white, yet it kept stretching downwards where it was replaced by a giant dark hill.
“Fada… what is that?” she asked, her mouth agape.
“Say hi-yo, little steed, to Mount Chinjaio,” he answered, ”It is the place where I replenish whatever is needed, case-by-case. Do not be fooled by what you see, within its walls greater secrets await you and me.”
He made a single step forward, sliding down the sandy hill. Now the child’s curiosity had been piqued. She wanted to see more of what this place had to offer, and it’s been a long time since she’s seen the abadas. She leaped over the edge of the hill, screeching as she slid down just like her father, and immediately joined him as soon as she reached the ground.
For some time they walked, and the sun was already up to considerable height, the heat of the desert beginning to rise again, but she could feel solid ground under her hooves once more. And the contrast wasn’t just noticeable by the feel, but the look as well, as the bright sand was replaced by dark soil. Now that they’ve gotten closer, the mountain became more noticeable, as well as the vast mountain range in the distance behind it, stretching to both sides as far as the eyes could see. Tall grasses began to sprout in their wake, but it wouldn’t be long before it was replaced by greenery, and soon the first fields came in view. Scrawny, earthly-colored, two-horned equines were going about their daily routines, making sure that the crops were well kept. Zecora hasn’t seen any of these plants before, wheat was most of what she recalled back home, here, however, she was completely lost. And then she noticed the lush vegetation beginning to pop up the closer they got to the mountain.
As they pushed further along the mountain’s side, the child became increasingly curious. “Fada, how is this possible? Why is this place so green, while back home, except for the “forbidden place”, it isn’t?”
He smiled. “All thanks to the Mount itself. Long ago it spewed fiery death, sparing none whether or not it drew breath. Its rage subsided, gifts to those left behind it provided. Years turned into many a century, allowing abadas to live in comfort and plenty.”
“So… evil made fire and then it made all better?” she asked. “If the evil back home is freed as well, would it bestowed gifts on us too?”
The High Shaman stopped dead in his tracks, causing the filly to crash into him, then turned and gave her a serious stare. “What sleeps beneath the oasis is beyond any kind of miracles or graces. Fire and earth, after they fell, gave to others a place to dwell. I implore you, Zecora, to not consort with the force near our home, for nothing good can come from that sealed dome.”
She meekly nodded. The stallion turned and proceeded on the overgrown trail, the filly following him close behind. As they moved into the shadow of the mountain, Zecora began to feel a bit chilly, although luckily it wasn’t as bad as the night before; the area between the mountain range and the dormant volcano seemed to have created a natural heat repellant during this time of day. They crossed a hanging bridge and finally a great wooden wall came in sight, and as they passed through the giant archway, the village opened before them. Huts made from dried grass were strewn all over the place, the settlement itself looked as if overgrown with exotic plants, and the residents were going about their business in a relatively cheerful spirit. The two zebras descended into the village, hardly turning heads of the locals as they passed by them, except for a handful of abada kids who were running down the street, playing a game. They came across another hanging bridge and when they got to the middle of it, the little zebra stopped as she looked beyond it. What they just passed through was just a small part of the village as the rest of the abada’s heartlands spread out across the entire valley that was nestled between the mountains and the volcano, with even bigger grass huts towering below.
“Zecora, come here fast!” her father called from the other end of the bridge. “We’ve arrived at last!”
She hurried up after him, while he moved on and later stopped in front of a large hut that was standing right on the slope of the volcano, surrounded by spiky plants, and then proceeded to walk right in. The child joined him, but it was something she would soon regret. The inside of the hut was icy cold, likely on the same level as the night in the desert, so it didn’t take long before her teeth began to clatter as she stood behind her father.
“Ekene! Are you about?” the High Shaman called out. “I need counsel to clarify a personal doubt!”
Tapping sounds soon followed and a brown abada appeared from behind a nearby curtain. “Ah, I did not expect you to be here so soon, High Shaman!” he greeted him.
He nodded. “My work requires diligence, old friend. Among the five reagents, I fear one is at its end.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I’ve just…” the abada’s words trailed off, as he heard a strange rattling sound in his house. He stepped to the side a bit and noticed a little zebra standing right behind his customer, her teeth clattering up something awful. “Well now, who are you, little lady?” he asked her.
“Z-z-z-z-ze-k-k-k-ora,” she barely spoke.
“Oh dear, you’re not used to cold, are you?” The abada turned to face her father. “Was it wise to bring her all this way?”
“She will overcome, same as us,” he answered. “To make her strong, while young, she must not fuss.”
“If you say so. Anyway, as I was about to say, I just got back with a fresh supply, although…” the abada walked over the covered doorway behind him, sticking his head out for a moment, before quickly pulling it back in. “Okay, you both may want to stand back a bit!”
There was a tumbling sound that followed, growing louder, it sounded as if rocks were rolling down the hill. Then the cover of the door was pushed away as a pair of tied-up balls of cloth rolled into the house and then stopped before the elder zebra’s feet.
The little one was curious and tried to check out what was inside, only for the horned equine to stop her. “Don’t get any closer! The Dust Bowl’s yet to come!”
She was confused. What’s a dust bowl? Just then she heard another sound; unlike the last one, this time it sounded as if somebody was sliding through rocks and dirt. Suddenly, a figure slid past the door cover, past the two zebras, and right through the front door, finishing up with a crashing sound. The three poked their heads through the front door and spotted a figure lying in the pile of overgrowth. It was an abada, much smaller than the other one, likely a child, completely caked in black dust and dirt.
“Imari, how many times have I told you to stop doing that,” the older horned equine scolded him, “you nearly hit our guests.”
The colt got back on his feet and shook to try and get the mess off himself, not that it helped. “But it’s so much fun, papa!”
“That doesn’t matter. You could’ve hit someone.”
The kid pouted and dug his front hooves into the dirt.
His father in the meantime turned his attention to the guest. “Let’s go back in and settle this shall we?”
The High Shaman nodded and walked back in, then stopped when he noticed that his daughter wasn’t following. “Will you not come inside?”
“I’ll wait out here,” the little zebra told him, “So I can… from the chill be clear?”
He chuckled at her poor attempt to rhyme. “As you wish, but don’t run off and hide. I’ll be done, quick as if on a slide,” before disappearing behind the curtain of the door.
Zecora was now left outside. She was just glad not to be in that unnaturally freezing house. She was, however, left in the company of somebody who was her peer. He wasn’t too pleased, as he paced up and down grumbling. It didn’t take long before she stepped in the way of his trail and he bumped into her.
He gave her an uneasy look, as she was staring at him, even if he was considerably taller than her. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Why does your fada call you “Dust Bowl”?” she immediately asked.
The peer once again shook himself and black dust kept falling out of him, yet he was still completely black. “Cuz I’m always covered in Chinjaio’s dust.”
“Why?” the zebra wondered.
A grin appeared on the little abada’s face. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”
He ran behind the house, away from the eyes of his parent, and Zecora followed. When they came to the other side, a wide long slope of the volcano opened itself before her, the far distant peak being completely white.
“Race ya to the top!” he yelled and charged uphill.
She didn’t even get a chance to respond, and she ran after him. But the climb was a literal uphill battle for her; there were so many times where she slipped due to the rocks and soft soil. The abada on the other hand was able to skip at a high speed without any visible exertion, or fear of a slip-up. He eventually stopped, waiting for the zebra to catch up with him.
“You don’t do these kinds of things at home, do you?” he said as she finally got to him, panting, visibly tired.
She didn’t answer, as something else piqued her attention. Firstly, she noticed that it got considerably chilly, almost as it was inside the house earlier. Then she noticed the borderline where the black dirt ceased and was replaced with the strange white stuff further up the mountain. She approached it and stuck her hoof inside, and then flinched backward. It was cold to the touch.
“Dust Bowl, what is this stuff?” Zecora asked him.
The abada gave her a confused look. “You mean you’ve never seen snow before?”
“Well… maybe?” she recalled back to some distant event. “I’ve seen fada use something like this.”
“Of course he did,” he answered. “Papa said High Shaman always visits our shop. Mount Chinjaio is the only place in Farasi where you can get snow because it melts quickly, and my papa’s the only one with the house close to the mountain so he can gather it every day for the rest of the village to use. I know ‘cuz I have to help him. It’s why he and all the other villagers gave me the nickname.”
“But why are you constantly dirty?” the zebra asked.
“Because of the game I play,” he explained. “It’s too long a walk back home, so instead I just slide… like this!”
In that instant, the abada jumped down the slope, his hind legs lowered as he slid down the terrain filled with black dirt, causing it to fly all over him.
“Dust Bowl!” Zecora cried as she watched him go downhill at a fast speed.
The colt just turned his face and called back to her. “It’s fine! Come on, join in!”
The shaman’s daughter felt uneasy about this. The slope was so steep, and from this height, it felt like she might actually end up flying over the valley below. Still, the abada made it look so easy, no way she would chicken out now. She readied herself, made a slight hop and she began to feel the dirt and rocks under her hooves beginning to loosen. It was slow, but little by little, the speed began to pick up, and her descent accelerated. She screamed as panic started to settle into her as the house came into sight, and she had no idea how to stop herself so she wouldn’t crash into it.
Suddenly, she saw a figure rushing up the hill. The little horned equine was skipping at high speed in her direction, and just as she was about to pass him, he leaped to her side and grabbed her by the tail, pulling her back. The deterrence finally slowed them down, and they reached the house, unscathed.
“I’m so sorry!” the little colt apologized. “I didn’t want to scare you so badly! I just…” he stopped for a moment then looked at the doors. “Hold on, lemme just go check that papa didn’t hear anything.”
He ran off into the house. The little zebra was still panting from the moment of fear, but that revealed a problem. From all the excitement she’s completely forgotten that she hasn’t eaten anything yet since she got up, and now her stomach was making a growling noise; she needed something to eat. That’s when her sight wandered to the spikey plants that surrounded the cold house, they were bearing small red fruits that looked really appetizing right now; surely they wouldn’t notice just one of them missing. She plucked one of the red fruits and crushed it between her hooves, exposing its juicy flesh. She bit into it, and was met with sweet crunchiness, she just wanted to savor it for as long as possible.
“Okay, my papa and yours didn’t suspect anything. We just need to pretend that-“ Dust Bowl came out of the house with a sigh of relief, only to freeze on the spot the moment he spotted the guest eating. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
The sudden yell caused her to spit out the fruit from shock.
“Imari, what’s wrong?” the voice came from inside the house.
“Nothing, papa, it’s nothing!” he yelled back, then quickly hurrying to Zecora’s side, raising his tone in the quietest manner possible. “You can’t eat this!”
“I-i-i’m sorry,” the filly stuttered, “I was just hungry. I didn’t want to steal-“
“That’s a fruit from kuungua plant!” he cut her off. “We use them to ward off predators! They’re poisonous!”
The crushed fruit fell from her grasp as she heard that. But surely that couldn’t be right. What she tasted was so delicious and… then she felt a sting on her tongue, and another, and pretty soon her mouth was on fire; it felt like she stuck burning thorns into her mouth, the pain was so unbearable she cried out, only to be silenced as the abada shut her mouth from opening and then dragged her away from the doorway, all the way to the far side of the house.
“Tell me you didn’t swallow any of it,” he quickly asked as he finally let her go, yet he got no reply as the zebra began to cry. “Please, just let me know you didn’t swallow the fruit!”
She finally managed to quiet down over the streaming tears and shook her head.
He sighed in relief. “Okay, okay, then there’s still a chance to fix this. Open your mouth and hold still.”
The crying zebra hesitantly opened her mouth, revealing her tongue to be covered in red boils. The colt cringed for a moment, then closed his eyes and inhaled. Suddenly, one of his horns lit up in green light, and then the second one, by which he began showing noticeable signs of straining, and then green mist started to roll out. He stepped closer to Zecora and directed his head at hers, the green mist beginning to trickle down and onto the zebra’s tongue. The magical substance coated the organ, and in a matter of moments, the boils disappeared one after another. The abada’s horns stopped glowing and he collapsed in exhaustion. Meanwhile, the filly closed her mouth and checked about with her tongue. She felt nothing.
“It… it doesn’t hurt anymore…” she reacted to realization.
“Do… do you promise not to tell papa then?” the colt breathed heavily.
Zecora was confused. “What do you mean?”
He sighed, trying to sit down. “Papa’s always angry when we get visitors and I do things to irritate his customers. Just for once, I wanted him to feel like I did something right. That’s why I wanted to show you how much fun it is to ride on Chinjaio’s slopes, but I didn’t think you wouldn’t be good at it even when you never tried before. I…“ he stopped himself, looking to the side with a look of guilt in his eyes. “I was afraid that, if papa heard you crying right now, he’d notice I did things wrong again. That’s why I wanted to cure you, so he wouldn’t notice… Please… don’t be angry at me…”
There was a moment of silence as the zebra tried to process what’s happened, and she noticed by the look on the colt’s face that he was on the verge of tears. She wiped her own tears away, traipsed over to him, and wrapped her hooves around him.
“It was my fault that I ate the fruit. And you made the pain go away,” she said. “I can’t be angry at you.”
The little abada, in response, laid his head on top of hers, over her mane, putting his skinny front legs around her.
The moment didn’t last long, however, as he broke it. “Wait… what’s your name?”
“Zecora,” she smiled at him.
“Imari!” another voice called out, one that belonged to the elder abada.
She looked back for a moment, then returned to her peer. “Let’s keep this our little secret, “Dust Bowl”.”
A big grin appeared on his face. He hopped back on all fours and ran off, the filly got back up as well and followed him, to where abada’s father was poking his head out the doorway.
“What is it, papa?” he asked, with Zecora soon joining his side.
And just as he was about to say something, an unspeakable cry followed.
Zecora’s story came to a halt after that sudden scream. And it soon became apparent that she wasn’t the only one who heard it.
“W-w-w-what was that?” Rainbow Dash stuttered.
The whole group stopped, trying to locate where that scream came from. Suddenly there was a flash; a purple lightning bolt arched across the sky in the distance and the scream followed again. Somebody was crying out in agony, from wherever that lightning was coming. Without waiting another moment, two arctic patrollers and the alicorn princess dashed in its direction, with the rest of the crowd following, while the wonderbolt and the shaman tried to pick up the pace in the back.
“You think this has anything to do with what we’re looking for?” Glitter Drops asked as another cry followed.
“At this point, I would be surprised if it wasn’t, Dropsy,” Tempest added.
“Even if it’s not, whoever it is, he needs our help!” Twilight added, as she quickly dashed in front of them both.
“You guys!” the blue pegasus yelled, while she was still leaning on the zebra. “Wait up!”
Purple lightning was erupting from the crimson crystal cluster, striking at the horn’s remnant of the umbrum king. Only a single arc of lightning was being channeled into it only a few moments ago, but now it was flying all over the place, yet still violently striking at the red unicorn horn.
“Sooooo… is this supposed to happen?” the construct asked the whispering shadow on the side of his shoulder, with a noticeable tone of concern.
“I don’t think I’m in a position to guess, Scourgelord,” Doubt responded.
As the lightning continued to strike at the remains, the horn suddenly began to wiggle and the black vapor was beginning to exhume from the broken-off area.
“I think I’ve seen enough…” the feminine voice coming from the crystal was slowly turning shrill. “I want to have a word with you now. You’ve slept long enough… AWAKEN, SOMBRA!”
A cluster of lightning bolts arched out from the crystal and struck the horn again. The black matter began to ooze out of the broken horn, slowly solidifying in the process, reconstructing the facial structure of the one to whom it belonged, along with the grey fur, the black flowing, smoke-like mane, and finally a pair of red eyes, accompanied with sickly green vapor emanating from them. The face of the horn’s owner materialized fully, while the rest of the body was little more than black smoke.
Finally awake, his mother greeted him. “Hello again… wicked child!”