As most stories go. Once upon a time, in the land of Equestria, in a hamlet far down in the South-West, lived a group of zebras. These equines lived fruitfully, completing daily tasks such as building homes, foraging for food, studying, and all sorts of other mundane tasks we all grow to love. The city was built on a rocky hill, and had a small tower on one of it's faces. Below the tower, was the small town recently built in order to help expand the ever so unstable empire. In this pygmy village, there was a pleasant home. It was a very stylish home for it's placement, with an even, sandstone exterior, and plateau-like roof which housed a very small herb garden and even an aqueduct. The pleasant home unfortunately undermined the rest of the community, which was for the most part still in development. Beside the pleasant home stood an equally pleasant plot of forest, with pleasant palm trees, and pleasant bushes of berries, nuts, and leaves. This little land was used openly by the public and the owners alike for quiet time during the siesta hours, and for general relaxation during the break days; which were short and far apart.
Down the peachy colored path of this pleasant grove, strolled an adult zebra. She wore no shawl, as this in fact was her grove, and she was not embarrassed of her distended form. She had discovered a couple of months prior that her dramatic increase in weight was in fact a baby foal, and not all of the wonderful, delicious, greasy, pastries, that she had the privilege of being able to afford. The poorer zebras looked on, not knowing if they should be happy for the mare, or resentful of her wealth. Yes, being poor is no party, and one who is unfortunate to taste such a fate, is often aggrieved by their position.
The adult zebra trotted on, throwing around a few casual salutations in the direction of the unwinding equines. She was enjoying the sunny day and calm breeze that was drifting from the East, secretly glad the breeze was only just that, a breeze; if the wind had picked up in it's intensity, there would be a very unfavorable sandstorm later today. Her tame thoughts were very suddenly propelled out of her mind, as she began to feel a very uncomfortable pressure in her loins. BY CELESTIA! Why now of all times! I'm not supposed to be due for another 3 weeks! She bolted for the grassy exit in the grove, beginning to heave and hyperventilate. Having rehearsed her course of action if this event were to occur, she was relatively level headed, making it to the wrought iron gate in a few seconds.
She yelled out to one of her faithful maids, “Rezy! The foal is coming, please get the doctor!” The maid looked at her in horror, and began galloping to the village medical stallion.
The commotion was answered by another couple of maids who helped her to her temporary room on the first floor of the estate. Once positioned, the mare told the older housekeeper to clear the room so that the doctor would have no problem navigating around the bed. She did as told, moving a weak table holding a heavy, blueberry colored book, and huskily told the younger maid to gallop to the watch tower to get the Chief Stallion. In her inexperienced panic, the young zebra fled, and accidentally bucked the small table. Which in turn launched the weighted book into the air, where it seemed to hang in time and space while it found it's final impact point with the pregnant zebra's exposed abdomen. All three of the equines shrieked in a mixture of shock, pain, and fear. The book was large, and would be the cause for a seemingly humble beginning to transcend unto greatness.