//------------------------------// // Journey To A New World // Story: The Zebra and The Bat // by Apple Bottoms //------------------------------// Candle’s sleep was fitful at best; he’d been trying to fall back asleep for at least half an hour before his parents arrived to wake him up, and finally had to admit defeat. Leaving Everfree Forest turned into a bit of a panicked rush, which only got more difficult when various bat ponies tried to wish him farewell on his way out. It was hard to blame them; after centuries of isolation, it wasn’t very often that anypony left for anything, so Candle’s trip became more of a public event than he’d ever intended.  Only his parents accompanied him to the docks; the bat flock were curious to see him off, but not so curious to step blinking into the sunlight, as weak as it might be in the early morning. Candle had booked passage on a merchant ship, which was good for avoiding crowds of gawking diurnal ponies, but not so good for ease of boarding. He bid his parents farewell (“No one will be disappointed if you come right back, I promise,” Lamplight had whispered in his ear, before she pressed one last bag of candied fruit into his hoof), and with more than a few tears between the trio, he boarded the ship.  The trip could have been its own novel, in the story of Candle’s life; but it would have been a boring, upsetting novel, and would likely receive bad reviews. How many pages will we have to waste expounding on the nature of sea water? Two stars. Each day was the same as the last, and yet every day brought new, fresh frustrations. Bat pony diets were heavy on fruit; fruit was not in large supply at sea. He slept in the bunks with the rest of the crew, at least for the first two nights; sailor ponies, as it turned out, were terribly superstitious. And after a crate came loose in the cargo hold and smashed itself to pieces, hooves were pointed at the only bat pony on board, citing bad luck. Even though Candle could have argued that their own superstitions seemed to be not-so-mysteriously tied back to prejudice and xenophobia, Candle took the captain’s suggestion and relocated himself to a private room instead. The private room was quiet, at least, even though it was very clearly used as a storage room now. Every time the boat shifted, the crate of cleaning supplies scooted along the floor a few inches. One night during a storm, it crashed into his bed, and Candle smelled lemony-fresh for days after.  Candle couldn’t pretend that he didn’t enjoy the boat voyage despite everything, though. He’d never even seen the sea before the trip; now he was on it, in it, and everything smelled like brine and crisp, fresh air. (When it wasn’t tinged with lemony freshness, of course.) He had brought along a whole bag of empty journals, and he wrote feverishly, sketching where he could, making a note of every day’s adventures, even when it simply said ‘quiet today, meal was salted cod and a roll, breakfast was grits.’ His logs would be the first exposure to the outside world that some bat ponies might ever see; it all had to be documented. One day, they saw a herd of dolphins, and he sat for hours, watching them play in the surf, jumping through the ship’s wake. He wondered if there were seaponies below them, watching them pass overhead like a great bird, or perhaps a cloud.  A pod of dolphins, Candle corrected his journal later that night, crossing out ‘herd.’ He wanted to be precise.  Candle wasn’t prepared for the day he woke up and realized they weren’t moving. His estimates had said they should be sailing for at least another day and a half. (“What do you want me to do, lad? Go in circles?” The captain had replied, not a little indignantly, when Candle asked.) He gathered his things together in a bit of a panic - he’d unpacked more than he realized in the past week of sailing - and climbed topside, only to step into a wall of heat. Well, Zeffir hadn’t been joking about the temperatures; briefly, Candle hoped that the rainy season would come even sooner.  Candle hurried off of the ship, in no small part due to the suspicious glares that the rest of the crew shot at him (prejudicial, Candle reminded himself), and stood on the docks, taking a moment to consider the space around him.  The dock, as it turned out, looked very similar to the one he had left in Equestria. There were signs in a language he didn’t speak, of course, and lots of zebras walking around. So many zebras! Every color was represented here, every stripe pattern, so much so that it made his slitted eyes cross a little when he looked at crowds of them. There were Equestrian ponies, too, carrying loads and shouting to each other as they milled around their ships. He even recognized a few griffons making deliveries; their curses and shouting stood out far more than their coat patterns, Candle thought. This was a merchant loading dock, though; there wasn’t any nice little visitor’s center, or at least not one that he could recognize in the foreign script. How was Zeffir going to find him?  “Candle?”  Oh, maybe like that.  “Zeffir?” Candle startled a little, surprised when one of the members of the eye-hurting crowd separated himself and approached. He blended in so well, it took Candle a moment to pick him out of the crowd, not until he was close enough to shout. But this had to be Zeffir! He recognized his early-morning colors from his photo, even if he looked much bigger in real life. There was something missing from the photos; maybe it was just the easy way he moved that couldn’t quite be captured on film.  “Hello, Candle!” Zeffir called with a smile, trotting until he was beside him. “I hope that your journey was easy; I hear that the east winds blew breezily!” His voice was accented, and deeper than Candle had expected.  Oh, guano; he was going to have to rhyme for his entire trip, wasn’t he? “Ah, yes!” Candle agreed, a little clumsily, as every rhyming word seemed to leave his mind at once. “My journey wasn’t - the best! But it was very nice and fast! I was excited to see the sea pass..t.”  Zeffir’s smile was bright and friendly, and despite himself, Candle felt himself relaxing. “I am happy you made it here safe, I hope your close lodgings did not make you chafe?”  “Oh, the lodgings were okay, but the views were amazing! I’ve never seen the sea, and it was -” And here Candle faltered, and his tufted ears flicked back and forth in dismay. “Guhmazing? Dazing? Phrasing? Uh - lazing?” Candle muttered to himself in a low, fevered tone.  Zeffir laughed, and something loosened in Candle’s chest; it was such a genuinely relieved sound, it made Candle relax, too. “You speak common? Thank the sun.”  “You - you don’t have to rhyme?”  “Not all the time! That’s the Zebia dialect; I’m from the Zabar region. We speak Zabish, but most of us also speak the common tongue, because we are so close to the coast. Sailor ponies, you know, they bring language along with their goods!”  “Oh!” Candle felt very foolish, indeed; he’d never stopped to consider that, like Equestria, the Eastern Desert might have many different regions and dialects, and even whole languages. “So - you also speak Zebia?”  “Passably. When they brought the letter in Zebian, I volunteered to answer it. I have been practicing, with every letter you sent. I thought you only spoke Zebian!”  Candle chuckled, and his ears slid to half-mast. “Well - we have a zebra who lives in our forest, Zecora. She helped me draft the first letters, and she helped check my grammar as I went.”  “Isn’t that funny! She must be Zebian. I suppose it makes sense, she would send it in her own tongue. But Zebians live further inland, around here it’s mostly Zabish. Those signs are Zabish.” Zeffir nodded to the signs that dotted the dock here and there. “Most of my village speaks common, so this will make things much easier! I was afraid I would have to spend your whole trip translating.”  Candle chuckled again, but his nod was rapid, his nervousness rapidly fading. “So was I. I’m much better at reading than writing - and better at both than speaking.”  “I imagine it’s hard to find someone to practice with in your village - they are all bat ponies like you, yes?” Zeffir asked, and hefted one of Candle’s bags over his back as he began to lead him through the dock.  “Yes! And it’s very -” Candle had been about to say ‘isolated’, but a snatch of conversation from three ships down hit his ears, and as Zeffir guided him through the dock, a wall of sound hit Candle as surely as the wall of heat had hit him. Heat, at least, was something Candle had experienced; even though the Everfree Forest was shaded, there were patches where the summer heat could leak through. But sound, well, that was something new to Candle.  Bat ponies have exceptional hearing, with wide, domed ears that evolved to help them catch flying insects, like the bats they allegedly evolved from. While some bat colonies still fed on insects, most of them had shifted towards fruit consumption, but they maintained their keen hearing through the generations. It kept them safe, an early warning system against diurnal pony invasions, and as a result bat pony colonies tended to be very quiet by diurnal pony standards. The small village of Ponyville had been just on the edge of Candle’s comfort; the dock, by comparison, was like being at a rock concert. The ocean was a steady, low roar in the background, and once they stepped away from the safety of the ship, hundreds of conversations rolled over Candle, as powerful as any ocean wave. Shouting, arguing, bickering, bartering and badgering conversations flowed through him, and it was all he could do to follow Zeffir and keep putting one hoof in front of another.  Zeffir said something, but Candle couldn’t make out the words; he could see him frowning, though, and a note of panic managed to make it through the overwhelming roar of voices. Was it important? Was he mad at Candle for ignoring him? If only he could just - shut all of this out!  Candle was still reeling when Zeffir grabbed onto his satchel with his teeth, and yanked him into an alleyway. The sound dampened immediately, and Candle was so relieved by the sudden shift that he felt tears coming to his eyes. Zeffir rummaged in his bag and pulled something out, shoving it over Candle’s head. He fumbled with it for a moment, and Candle could only bring up his hooves to feebly bat at him, surprised when the sound dampened to almost nothing.  Earmuffs. Candle wasn’t sure where he’d found them, or how he thought to bring them, but the relief was so instantaneous that Candle could have kissed him.   “How - how did you -” Candle stammered, the ringing in his ears still resounding, the pain fading gradually. He felt like he was back on the ship again, like the ground was swimming beneath his hooves.  “I wanted to be prepared for your arrival. I thought our village might be too noisy for a bat pony; I did not consider the docks. I should have.” Zeffir’s voice was muffled from behind the muffs, but Candle could guess around the words he missed. Zeffir watched him for a moment, then lifted one striped hoof to his cheek, brushing away the tears that had fallen. “Are you alright?”  “Yeah, I’m - I’m okay.” Candle tried to give him a smile to reassure him, but his knees still felt weak. He stood for a moment before they gave way, and he had to lean against the wall. “Sorry, just - just a moment. I’ll be okay.”  Zeffir still watched him closely, but nodded, and shifted to stand between Candle and the mouth of the alleyway, turning away from him. He was bigger than Candle, he noted for the second time; the stripes and the colors made it easier to miss that. More camouflage, maybe, Candle mused. He had pointed his attention elsewhere, perhaps giving Candle a moment to compose himself in privacy, but instead Candle watched him. He hadn’t realized he was doing it until Zeffir looked back at him, and Candle had to wipe his face clean hurriedly. Zeffir looked away, too, and dug around in his bag for something else, presenting a small box to Candle once he’d finished scrubbing his face.  “Wax, from a beehive. I’m sure you have something similar in your land; it’s good for closing your ears.” Zeffir explained as Candle opened the lid.  “Oh! That’s - that’s very useful. Thank you, Zeffir.” Candle offered him a small, grateful smile, already setting to work. Beeswax was something he’d used occasionally; now and again the earth ponies set off fireworks that could shake the trees themselves. The noise rose briefly as he lifted each earmuff, then quieted again as he inserted the wax.  “Better?” Zeffir asked as Candle held the earmuffs out to him. “No; for you. A gift.” Zeffir’s smile was warm as he shook his head, and Candle wondered if his striped pattern had so much pink in it a moment ago.  “Much better, thank you.” Candle agreed, and tucked the earmuffs into his bag. “Should we go to your village now?”  “If you are ready, then I am ready.” Zeffir’s smile was warm, and it felt just a little too warm to be looking at, just then. Candle decided that this was a good time to learn about his surroundings, anyway, and returned to examining the docks.  “How far away is your village?” Candle asked, as he followed Zeffir’s brisk pace once more.  “Not far. We are one of the closest to the docks. Maybe an hour walk?” Zeffir glanced back at Candle. “Will you be alright for that long?”  “Yeah. I can carry my other bag, too; I’ll be fine.” Candle protested; it felt wrong to make his host carry his bag as well!  “I do not mind. The burden is lighter if we share it, yes?” Zeffir’s smile was too warm to refuse, and so the pair fell into a sort of thoughtful silence as they walked.  Zeffir’s long legs made long strides, and the first few minutes Candle spent focusing on trying to keep up. He finally found a comfortable gait, and let his eyes wander. It was a simple packed-earth road, like the ones that lead in and out of Ponyville, and the noise of the dock soon melted away to nothing as they walked into the brush. It was called the Eastern Desert because, of course, it was a far more dry, arid environment compared to other continents like Equestria, but this land looked nothing like he had anticipated. A ‘desert’ (according to the Ponyville library encyclopedia) was just a line of dunes as far as the eye could see; this place was lush, a long, flat plain covered in scrub brush, gnarled trees, and a plethora of various plants. Some were familiar little weeds, springing up underhoof; some were hip-high, and some towered over him, tall and spiky, although they swayed easily in the breeze. Most of the plants seemed to be a hip-high kind of grass, and when Candle pulled out one of the lumps of beeswax, he could hear them swishing on and on, for miles around them.  Zeffir reached out to snag a mouthful, chewing as he glanced back to Candle. “This is edible. Good, too.”  Candle hesitated only a moment, then reached out, fumbling for only a moment before he caught a mouthful. He chewed, thoughtfully, then trotted to catch up where his pace had slowed. “That’s good.” He would have said it was good even if it wasn’t; bat pony manners weren’t so archaic that they didn’t understand a polite lie. But it was good, and it wasn’t the peppery grass that Zeffir had sent him, either. It had a salty undertone, but it was crisp, dry, savory. Like the grass at home, yet different.  Zeffir smiled. “Good. I know you eat mostly fruit at home; we do not have the same fruits you do, unfortunately. But I hope you will enjoy the ones we have.”  “I’m sure it’ll be fine! I can eat grass, too.” Fruit was better, of course! But Candle didn’t want to make Zeffir feel bad as soon as he got there.  “Everypony is very excited to meet you. I read your letters aloud, sometimes; my family likes to hear the stories about the bat pony forest.”  “My dad always asks what’s new with my zebra friend! Like you live just down the street.” Candle laughed, and Zeffir joined him.  “Your dad sounds like fun. Your father is the village healer, yes?”  “No - that’s my mom. My dad does handypony work, or he’ll help my mom out. He helps build splints, and things like that. Like - if somepony is sick, my dad is usually the one who organizes everyone to make sure they have food and visitors.”  Zeffir paused, and lifted a hoof to point at something on the ground. “Do you have these at home?”  “Oh - lizards! Sure! Not one that color, though…” Candle stared at the blue-spotted reptile until it skittered away, disappearing into the grass. “Oh! I should - hang on!” And Candle stopped, dropped his bag onto the ground, and pulled out his notebook to sketch furiously. It wasn’t good, but it was vaguely reptilian, and it had blue spots sort of like -  Candle’s pencil came to a skittery stop when he realized that Zeffir had come very close, watching him work. “S- Sorry, we should keep going to the village, right?”  “But you aren’t done. They have white spots under their eyes too, right here. Were you going to add that?” Zeffir asked, still standing too close.  “Oh - sure.” Candle’s voice was very small, but he obediently pulled out the white pencil and added a few lines.  “That is very nice. You are a good artist.” Zeffir smiled, almost proudly, and watched until Candle put the notebook away. “You are finished?”  “Sure. They’re - waiting for us, right?”  Zeffir shrugged, and helped Candle to shoulder his bag once more. “They will understand if we take a little longer. I was not sure how much walking you would be used to, being from a forest. We do a lot of walking here.”  “We probably do less walking than you do, I bet. I’ve never seen so much land, all at once.” Candle fell into step behind Zeffir once more, rounding a slow bend. “Where I live, there’s the forest, then the village, and mountains and hills.”  “That sounds like a lot in one place! I would like to see your village one day.” Zeffir agreed with a smile, then broke into a little trot, despite the heavy bag on his back. “We are almost there!”  Despite his own heavy load, Candle trotted after Zeffir, and struggled to keep up when he began to gallop. Zeffir, clearly, was used to this kind of thing from his job as a town guard; briefly, Candle felt foolish for not asking him more about that. Instead, his thoughts were occupied for the next few lung-burning moments with trying to keep up with the galloping zebra stallion.  After an eternity in which it felt like his legs might give out, the village came into view. And, despite himself, Candle was surprised. He had expected - well, something else. Even photos didn’t do this town justice. The encyclopedia at the Ponyville library had pictures of thatched huts made of wattle and daub; Zecora lived in a tree decorated with more strange dried plants that Candle could even name, and large, carved wooden masks. But this village looked, despite all of that, like his own, and like Ponyville. There were houses, built with brick or wood, and a packed-dirt road running in the middle. There were shops, and a road that led to what looked like the center of the town, with a fountain and cobblestones. There were differences, sure; the streets were filled with zebras, and the windows looked different, with some kind of mesh hung over them. The roofs were shaped differently, too, and Candle figured that might have to do with the heat. It was definitely much hotter here than in Equestria!  Candle had to pause in his examination when he realized that everyone else had stopped to examine him, too.  “The ambassador is here!” Zeffir shouted, by way of introduction, and the silence broke into excited chatter. Zeffir offered Candle a playful grin, and led him forward with a jerk of his head. “Stay close - they will all want you to come visit, and then you’ll never escape. Like a - what did you call it? The serpent vine?”  “That’s the one.” Candle agreed, and offered the group a shaky grin as Zeffir began leading him through the rapidly-gathering crowd of zebras. “Hello - hi - hello, there. Nice to meet you.”  “Hello, bat pony! Goodness, look at your ears!” They were friendly, but loud, and Candle deftly slipped the other bit of wax back into his ear, muffling the worst of the volume. “Those are larger than I’ve ever seen! And the tips!”  “Look at the wings! Can you fly?”  “Is it true you sleep upside down at night?”  “Do you really live in a forest where it’s nighttime all day?”  “The ambassador will see you all later tonight,” Zeffir shouted, and then Candle was really grateful for his earplugs, “at the party!”  “Party?” Candle asked, as the group dissipated in mild disappointment.  “Of course! You thought we wouldn’t have a party for you?” Zeffir offered Candle another smile, but this one seemed closer to a grin; it made Candle look away, letting his eyes wander down another street as it passed. “We have much to celebrate. But you don’t need to worry; I thought you might be more comfortable resting in my house until sundown, when the celebration begins. You’ve been travelling for a long time.”  Candle felt a little guilty when he realized just how wonderful that sounded. “That sounds really nice, actually. I brought gifts, but - maybe at the party.”  Zeffir’s smile was warm when it landed on Candle next. “That’s very kind of you.”  “Just - seems polite.” Candle’s grin was nervous, and he was grateful when they came to a stop in front of one of the houses. “Is this yours?”  “Mm-hmm, this is my home. Please, come in.” Zeffir smiled, and pushed the door open, guiding Candle inside. Candle hesitated only for a moment, wanting to cement its location in his mind. His house was as far from the town center as you could get, and there was a large gate in the wall next to it; another entry into the town, it seemed. The houses here were quiet, not bustling like the houses in the center of the town had been. It was small, cozy, well-maintained. At least, Candle thought so. He’d have to take some time to sketch it, later. Definitely later.  Zeffir’s room had a bed, and Candle realized a little suddenly, of course he wouldn’t have a branch in here for Candle to hang from. He had a bed, like a regular pony. A nice bed, of course, with soft blankets in a colorful pattern he’d never seen before (except perhaps in Zecora’s treehouse), but nothing like he was used to. Bat ponies used beds when they were ill, or very small; most homes had one, but it wasn’t exactly something he was used to.  “I thought you could stay in here - I will sleep in the other room.” Zeffir offered as he lowered Candle’s bag, watching the bat pony with increasing concern. “Is something the matter?”  “Well - I usually hang from a tree branch to sleep.”  “A - tree branch?” Zeffir’s eyes widened.  “Upside down.”  “Upside - this I must see!” Zeffir smiled, but the joke quickly faded. “Oh. But … then where will you sleep here?”  “Well - I can make this work! I mean, I know how to sleep in a bed.” Candle tried to play it off with a little laugh that rapidly turned into a cough. “I mean, it’s fine! I’m just not used to it. But it’s not hard, right?” On the ship, he’d looped his tail around the upper bars of the bunk bed, but there were no bars here. He’d have to just tough it out for the next few months, it looked like.  “I will find something else for you.” Zeffir said confidently, although his voice sounded more confident than his expression. “For now, will you be able to sleep?”  “I don’t think a thunderstorm could keep me awake.” Candle chuckled, and this time Zeffir relaxed. “Don’t worry about me, really. I appreciate your hospitality so much, Zeffir.”  Zeffir preened a little, Candle thought, relishing in the compliment. “Of course, it is no problem. You are my guest. So - sleep well. I will wake you in a few hours.”  “Thank you, Zeffir.” Candle smiled, waiting until Zeffir left to sit carefully on the bed. Well, this wasn’t hard; at worst, he’d just lie down and sketch for a few hours. Sleeping in a bed would take a lot of acclimation, but eventually, he’d figure it out.  As soon as Candle’s head hit the pillow, he was asleep.