The last few days in Equestria had been nothing short of extraordinary. First, it was the Summer Sun Celebration which involved a lot of work and preparation beforehand and a lot of partying and recovery afterwards. This year’s was the thousandth of such an event, very special indeed. The honour of hosting such a momentous occasion had fallen upon the cosy, little town of Ponyville which had been abuzz with anticipatory activity for the past couple of weeks.
But then, disaster struck. Nightmare Moon, thought to have been merely an old mare’s tale, had returned. The princess had mysteriously disappeared. And the night was to, apparently, last forever. It very well might have, if something miraculous had not happened. Six rather ordinary mares (well, five; one was the protégé of the sun goddess, after all) had turned out to be the new Elements of Harmony. Nightmare Moon was defeated, washed away in a kaleidoscopic burst of ancient magic. Princess Celestia returned, the dawn rising with her. And best of all, the defeat of the villainous Nightmare Moon brought the return of Princess Luna, the moon goddess, who was accepted into her sister’s arms with much love. Cue the fanfare and celebrations all across the kingdom.
None of this was known to two certain individuals, however. One was pulling a cart holding all her worldly possessions along a dusty road, heading for the Equestrian border. The other was a little ways up that very same road, behind some bushes, trying to eat some hopefully non-poisonous moss he’d found on a rock.
The individual pulling the cart was named Zecora. She was a zebra: black and white stripes, a tail and mohawk to match, and a tribal symbol of the sun on each flank. She wore golden bands on her neck and on one of her front hooves, large gold rings on her ears, and a large brown travelling cloak with hood.
She was travelling to her new home. Zecora felt that a change of scenery from her native land would be welcome and had decided that Equestria sounded like a nice-enough place to start again. So with some packing and tearful farewells (and perhaps not enough thought on things like currency exchange rates, house prices, or possible discrimination), she’d started her journey.
As said journey seemed to be nearing an end, the grasslands ahead rapidly gave way in lieu of woodlands. The Everfree Forest, if her map was correct. There was also a giant billboard by the side of the road with a smiling pony couple and the words “Welcome to Ponyville! Enjoy your stay!” painted on it.
“I very much plan to!” Zecora thought to herself happily. She decided that this seemed the perfect moment to take a break. The road behind her had been long and tiring, and the billboard offered some welcoming shade. She parked her cart, pulled out a small packed lunch and water gourd, and pushed back her hood. She settled down on the cool grass with a satisfied sigh.
Her peace was to be short-lived, however. She’d hardly even made a dent in her food when something made her ears prick up. It was a distant sound just on the edge of hearing, a faint susurration that came some distance behind the giant sign. She crept back to her cart, pulled out a long bamboo rod, and pointed it in the direction of the billboard.
“Hello?” she called out in Equestrian, her newly-learned language sounding musical on her tongue. Feeling emboldened with the hefty staff in her hooves, she added, “Is somepony there? If you’ve come to cause trouble, you’d best beware!”
There was no response. Faced with this mystery and her newfound bravery, she pulled her hood up and cautiously pressed her back against the billboard. She strained to hear what the sound was. It was somepony—or something—muttering to itself. Or maybe it was having a conversation with something. Zecora couldn’t hear any other voices, but what she was listening wouldn’t make sense if the mysterious voice was alone.
“Look, I am sorry about this,” the voice was saying, “really, I am. But I haven’t had anything decent to eat in, well, I can’t remember. Circle of life and all that. You understand, don’t you?” The voice paused for a moment, before continuing with conviction. “No, don’t give me that look. It’s your own fault; you should have been faster.”
Zecora had heard about enough. Steeling herself, she turned the corner to the back of the billboard, jumped through the bushes found there, and brandished her stick. “And just what is going on—” what she saw behind those bushes caught the phrase in her throat.
It reminded her of a monkey, almost like one of the chimps from her homeland (which were fond of playing practical jokes whenever they weren’t busy stealing fruit or throwing their own faecal matter). Except this one was much bigger at, what she guessed was, around twice her height. It wasn’t easy to tell though; it was squatting and hunched away from her rather than standing upright. It was practically bald; of the few noticeable amounts of hair it had, the most was on its head, followed by a much sparser amount on its limbs.
At Zecora’s sudden entrance, the creature spun around. It looked less like a chimp in the face with a less pronounced jaw, brow, and forehead, but a more pronounced nose. Its eyes were also a bit larger and more expressive, with white sclera rather than black. Also unlike the chimps from the zebra’s homeland, this one was exceedingly gaunt in the face. It was clear it hadn’t eaten in quite some time.
Whatever this creature was, it had a mouse’s tail hanging out of its mouth and a look of surprise on its face. Its surprise quickly turned to fear: fear of the strange hooded figure with a weapon that had jumped out of a bush. It opened its mouth wide and yelped. (The mouse inside leapt out and ran away with a squeak of joyous relief.) Zecora screamed in response and the creature shouted again. This repeated a few more times until, acting on instinct rather than rationale, Zecora hit it in the face with her stick.