//------------------------------// // Chapter 4: To find a new world // Story: Shield and Shadow Part 2: Renaissance // by LucidReverie //------------------------------// >>>You have nothing, you are nothing. But you will be something. You will enter a new and changed world as a new and changed stallion. Nothing will be yours to bear, and you will be meaningless. Then they will know you. And they will fear you.<<< Flashing. Zecora entered her home after a long day of work. Sluggishly, she pushed open her door and stumbled inside. She shrugged off her saddlebags, enjoying the lightness of her body as it was freed from its burden. She nudged them to a corner of her hut. Once there, she opened the first, looking within. Various herbs and plants were bundled together in tight bunches. She looked at them for a long while, sorting them in her mind so that she could store them quickly. She reached for the first bunch, placing it neatly in a cupboard filled with numerous ingredients. After the first, she placed the others in their spaces swiftly. Her job done, she decided to make herself a pot of rejuvenating tea. The zebra moved to her cooking area, finding a small copper kettle lying in wait. She filled it with a measure of water and set it on the ever-burning fire in the center of her home. She moved around, collecting various herbs for her tea. Crushing some, chopping others, she finally tossed the ingredients together in the pot. A light aroma permeated the air as the steam from the kettle breezed freely. Zecora looked forward to her tea, and was proud of herself for her completed work earlier in the day. Her joy however was stopped short with a realization. “Oh my dear, I have forgotten. How my manners are so rotten,” she said to herself as she moved quickly to the back of her home. The bed that once held the injured pony from the previous evening was empty. Fortunately, the pony had only managed to crawl a short distance, looking as if he sought the window, before collapsing. Zecora worriedly picked the pony up and placed him gently back in his makeshift bedding. A whistle pierced the air, and the zebra rushed into the other room. The steaming copper kettle sang for a few seconds, only to be untimely quashed by Zecora pulling it from the fire. She fetched two clay mugs from a cabinet and slowly poured out the sweet-smelling tea. She trayed them both and precariously carried them back to her ‘patient’. The pony was moving about slightly, shifting uncomfortably, as though in a nightmare. Zecora knelt down beside him with a cup of her herbal concoction. “What is it that you seek, though you be so tired and so weak?” she asked almost to herself as she lifted the mug to his lips. He sipped slowly in his stupor, but the warmth and magic of the brew brought him to some alertness. He groaned, trying to make a sound. He sipped again, his eyes still shut tight. His troat wetted, he croaked out his first words. “More.” Zecora tilted the mug, pouring more of the liquid into his mouth. He swallowed down as much as he could before speaking again. “Where am I?” Zecora set aside the mug, then turned to him. “You, dear pony, are in my home. I found you in the forest, quite alone.” “Forest? What? Who are you?” he rasped, his voice improving with each word. “Zecora is the name you may call me, and I live here in Everfree.” “Everfree?!” the pony exclaimed, trying to stand. Zecora held him down. “Yes, strange pony. Where you are from you must now tell me.” “I’m from Everfree, too. We may have seen each other. But I don’t recall ever meeting a… what was it? Zecora?” “If you too live in Everfree, then were exactly would your home be?” “Near the south watchtower. Just a short distance from the marketplace.” “I am afraid your words confuse me. You seem to be talking about a city.” “Yes, I am. Everfree. The city. Where I live. Where we are.” “I am afraid there is no city near. You may have become lost and hurt, I fear.” “No, you said we were in Everfree. It’s nearly impossible to miss the city. There’s only one road.” “Again, I know not of what you speak, nor of any city I may seek. The closest town to here is Ponyville, and when you are well enough, take you there I will.” “Ponyville? I’ve never heard of Ponyville,” the pony looked worried, “SO, you are telling me that there is no city named Everfree? Then where exactly did I grow up? Where did I protect and serve? Where have I lived my whole life?” “I have not the answers that you desire, and I believe you are no liar. You speak of a place long come and gone, a place I can take you with the rising of the sun.” “Gone? What do you mean ‘gone’?” “There once was a city here, large and grand, that held the two sisters, leaders of this land. But when the younger sister was banished, lost all life it did, and vanished.” “I-” the pony groaned with pain. He breathed heavily, gasping for air. “What pain is it that you feel? It may be something I can heal.” “My head,” the pony groaned, “I tried to remember my life, my – ah! – friends, and there was just… pain.” He clenched his head in his hooves, shying away from the world. “Relax and breath and you will find that sometimes in forgetting, there is peace of mind.” The pony took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. With it, he cleared his mind of his past. Nothing to cause the pain, nothing to sear his mind. “Will I get better? I don’t really want to forget everything.” “Those we love, we never forget. And well you shall soon be, I bet,” Zecora reassured the pony with a smile, “And since I have told you my name, would you care to do the same?” “Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. I’m… ” The pony paused, unsure for a moment, “I’m… Mist… Spring Mist.” “A pleasure to meet one such as you, and if you will permit me, there is much to do.” Zecora stood and walked to a small stand in the corner of the room, which bore fresh, white bandages. She carried them over and placed them down neatly beside Spring Mist. “Your wounds are overdue for their inspection, and must be cleaned to avoid infection.” “Oh, of course. I would help, but it seems my body doesn’t like me very much…” Spring Mist looked up and down at his heavily bandaged body. “I must say I am in your debt, but why are you helping me – a pony you know nothing about?” “No pony deserves to be left alone in the night, especially one you looked such a sight. You came dangerously close to a falling star, and my services I could not bar.” The zebra began slowly unwrapping Spring Mist’s bandages, peeling the layers off one by one. “Well, thank you. I don’t wish to think of what would have happened if you hadn’t found me.” Spring Mist winced slightly as his legs were exposed to the open air. “Fortune truly showed itself, to be found by one you can bring you to health.” “If fortune were truly kind, I would never have been in the situation to begin with…” “That is most true, but perhaps there is a lesson here for you. Growing into who you must be will be full of joy and full of pain, for without struggle and triumph, there can be no gain.” “Wise enough words, I suppose,” Spring Mist winced again as his face and head was fully uncovered, “But I still wish this didn’t hurt quite so much.” “You are a pony of great strength and will, so I have no doubts that you will heal. If you can, I need you to stand so that I can remove the last of your bands.” “I’ll try…” Spring Mist said uncertainly. He stretched out his legs, placing if hooves flat on the ground. With a loud grunt, he pushed himself slowly from the floor of the hut. The attempt was torturous, as each moment that passed was filled with struggle. Finally, Spring Mist lifted himself to a full stand, his legs visibly shaking. “Fine progress you are showing! Do you feel your strength growing?” Zecora asked happily. “I think so. It feels good to stand. It’s like I’ve been asleep for a very long time. But I suppose those months of guard training are paying off -” At the thought of his past, Mist buckled in pain, his head searing. He struggled to keep himself up, and Zecora rushed to his side to prop him up. Breathing heavily, Spring Mist righted himself again. “It seems any thought will trigger the pain. That’s really inconvenient. Thank you for helping me.” Zecora said nothing, merely continuing on with her work of Spring Mist’s care. She left the room for a brief moment, returning with a small tub of milky water and several washcloths. The water emitted a strange aroma – sweet at first, but it grew into a more wholesome smell, like fresh plant life just after rain. Spring Mist breathed deep in the smell, letting it invigorate him. Zecora placed the tub down next to Mist and began soaking the cloths. Spring Mist grimaced at the water, knowing just where it was headed. He groaned audibly, causing Zecora to tilt her head at him. “This process may not be fun, but it is something that must be done,” she said simply. Spring Mist groaned again as he watched a wet cloth draw nearer. “I just don’t like pain all that much. It’s already constant, and I’d prefer to avoid adding any more.” Zecora said nothing as she made first contact with the cloth. Just as it brushed Spring Mist’s fur and skin, he yelped and recoiled back, narrowly avoiding a tumble onto the floor. Zecora persisted silently, moving toward Spring Mist again. Another brief contact and Spring Mist and he yelped again, drawing further away, surprised that his body was carrying him even this far. Zecora pushed forward, determined. She finally made significant progress and began the process of properly cleaning Spring Mist’s wounds. The green pony flinched, but made no noise. There was no real pain, the damp cloth seemingly dulling the areas it touched. He blushed as he realized that his yelping had been nothing but nerves. Zecora dutifully cleaned out the worst of the wounds, the others having already begun to heal. Only the occasional cleansing stroke actually stung, but Spring Mist bit back the minor pain. Who is this zebra? he asked himself, Why is she helping me? Wait… who am I, exactly? “Um… Zecora?” Spring Mist began, “I hate to ask more of you, but could I be a terrible pony to do so?” “As long as it is within reason, I will help as sure as a new season,” Zecora affirmed pleasantly. Now to remember, even if it kills me.