New Dodge Junction was not too small of a town, but the road running through it made it easier and faster for a wagon to travel through than for it to travel around. Leaving behind Sand Dunes, Matchlock’s and Coalfield’s combined company now wheeled their large caravan vehicles onto dirt and textured pavement. The caravan captains directed the wheels to retract their rough and thorn-like appendages, making the surfaces smooth and more suitable for the paved road.
Matchlock, as he and Coalfield parked their vehicles off to a side of the road to avoid blocking the path, noticed several Ponies already coming out of side streets and buildings to look up at the wagons that had just rumbled into their town. “Look,” he said to Blast-cap as they opened the main door. “We’re the most interesting thing they’ve seen all week.”
It was true. Mothers held their children back as the two caravan captains descended from their respective transports, while young colts looked at them with a sort of admiration. Having a job as a Palosol Caravaner, one had to be a team-leader as well as have a head for technical issues and driving a vehicle on dirt, sand, or through the marshes further southeast. They also had to be able to keep that head and the heads of their passengers when things got rough, due to insufficient rations, attack by Zebras or by raiders, and whatever else they came across. Transporting cargo by aircraft was in some ways safer, but only if the way wasn’t blocked by one stormcloud or another. Palosol’s weather was typically at one extreme or another, especially during the summer and winter. Matchlock, knowing all this, could understand the emotions in the faces of the Ponies looking at him: envy, awe, and worry.
One Pony pushed herself to the front of the crowd, facing Matchlock, and then Coalfield as he navigated to Matchlock and his son. This Pony was a mare, neither young nor old, with a pale off-white coat and cherry-red mane and tail. Matchlock smiled and tipped his hat respectively. “Salutations, ma’am, my name is Matchlock. I assume you’re the mayor of this town?”
“That I am, Mister Caravaner!” She spoke with a loud, heavy twang, but had obviously attempted to refine it to sound more polite and more coherent. “My name’s Cherry Jubilee, and New Dodge Junction is where you’re at! Though, with the antennae stickin’ out the top of your vehicles, I’m assumin’ y’already know that.”
“Yes indeed. Say, we’re just passin’ through, but we were wonderin’ if you could be willin’ to do a favor…” Matchlock began, in a much softer voice. “We’ve got a, well, I don’t mean any alarm, but we’ve got a Zebra locked up in our wagon.” Cherry Jubilee, who had leaned in to listen, suppressed a rightfully alarmed gasp. “And, you can say no, but we were wonderin’ if you had the means to take it off our hands. Maybe throw it out, hang it, sell it as a slave? We’re on a schedule, here, and we were wonderin’ if we could make a fast profit by throwing her to you. Can’t shoot ‘er, Zebra hides can be sold, and we ain’t getting our rope dirty with Zebra scum and curses.”
“One’a them Trancers?” Jubilee asked under her breath. Matchlock nodded. “Well, golly, Mister Matchlock, that’s a sure danger you’ve got ridin’ around with ya. We’d be happy to take it off yer hooves! We’ve a trade comin’ up in a couple of days, maybe someone with enough gall’ll snatch the mongrel right up! To be honest with ya, Mr. Matchlock…” She leaned in. “Death’s too good for ‘em. Better they learn all their lessons by bein’ right where they should be, under our hooves!” She wore a sort of wry grin.
“Ha! You got that right, ma’am!” Matchlock laughed. “Dang dirty stripeys got too many ideas about stations and positions or some garbage.”
“Don’t I know it! Uh, can I see it?” Matchlock nodded, and led her to the front of the wagon, with the crowd following them intently. Cherry Jubilee frowned, and dispersed them with, “Go on, ya’ll have seen ‘em. Me and he got business to discuss, private!”
Manipulating a lock on a larger door on the front of the wagon with magic, Matchlock opened up the storage bay, taking a couple steps back, next to Jubilee. “These Trancer ones are rather touched, and look--weird. This one apparently has a mouth on her, can talk back, and made my son all mad.”
———
Zuri, who had been attempting to get some rest, suddenly awoke to the loud whirring of some creaking mechanism, and then light pouring in. Now properly roused, the Zebra sat up, her cloak hood hanging around her shoulders, letting anyone see her pierced ears and neck-rings, her black, blue-striped hair hanging about her face. The Zebra squinted, looking out toward the light as her eyes adjusted. She saw Matchlock, as well as another mare, who took a step back at her appearance. Zuri, likewise, looked the mare up and down. The peculiar red color of her hair did not surprise her, but it did surprise her how it was curled beautifully and put atop her head in a fashion the Trancer had never seen before. Zuri gave a quiet snort, a sort of huff, assuming that her captivity had changed hooves, and she was one step closer to being shot or sold off.
“You’re right, she is weird-lookin’. What kinda Zebra has blue stripes? Blue!” Jubilee said, walking up to her. “I’m guessin’ those are anti-magic cuffs?” She said, eyeing what confinements the Zebra had.
“That they are. Can’t be too careful with Stripies.” Matchlock nodded, glaring at Zuri. “See this lady, Stripey? She’s gonna be your judge and jury. You know, judge and jury? The things that maintain about half of a working law, somethin’ you freaks don’t–”
“I know what a judge and jury are, Pony. I only see one here, and she looks inadequate.” Zuri said, coldly, looking at him and to Blast-cap with contempt in her vibrantly cyan eyes. So you insult me, I’ll insult you.
Matchlock didn’t appear too affected. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Anyway, Miss Jubilee, you willin’ to take her?”
“Yes I am! Don’t worry about a thing, Stripey, I make sure every slave sells for a worthy price.” Jubilee said, smiling an odd smile at Zuri. “I’m thinkin’… for you? A good two hundred…”
“Two hundred bits!” Blast-cap exclaimed. “Hay, with that kind of money I could buy two workin’ girls half as pretty as that thing back in Paradise City!”
“Pretty, am I? I thought I was just stupid.” Zuri said, mirroring Jubilee’s smile at Blast-cap, who immediately called her what Zuri assumed was a very dirty, low-grade, despicable thing for Ponies. She didn’t really understand what a “blank-flanking, daddy-cuddling, foal-spouting dirt-witch” was. Jubilee was taken aback at Blast-cap’s language, as displayed by the shocked gasp she gave. Zuri cocked one ear, curious, as she watched Matchlock sternly gave his son a brief, quiet lecture on proper language in front of a lady, especially one in an obvious position of power.
In the meantime, Cherry Jubilee ordered two rather large stallions over, who she directed in unlocking the cage and pulling Zuri out of it in as rough a manner as possible. “Take her to the stables, boys,” she ordered, tapping Zuri on the shoulder. “Tell Ramrod he’s got a new personal count to take.”
Zuri was pushed into a side-room of a large wooden building. The air was musty, and smelled as Zuri expected it to: foul. The floor was dirt, but the inside each of the cells was a scattering hay. Almost every cell was occupied--by Zebras. Several of them were sitting, eyes closed, chanting dissonantly. As the stallions guided and pushed her into a dirty, small cell just big enough for her to pace around in a little circle, she realized that the constant drudging collection of voices was actually a song. She recognized it as a modification on a little song she was taught as an adolescent, originally supposed to be about separating yourself from your parents and trying to be your own person. As she listened now, feeling an approaching sense of melancholy, it sounded more like a wish to be free of a dark pit of captivity. The stallions locked the cell shut, and walked out the same door, locking it behind them as well.
Well, here she was, at the mercy of a redhead mare and this Ramrod. Her parents would order a beating. There were whispers around her, in Zebric accents, about a newcomer. Some of the words were in the Ponies’ language, some were Zebric. An interesting mix. Some younger voices used a combination of both, messily. Zuri guessed that perhaps they had been raised learning a little of both.
There was a tapping to the side, after some of the whispering had died down. Zuri turned to see another Zebra examining her through the iron bars that separated their cells. This one had the usual white and black stripes, and he had amber yellow eyes. Onene silver earring on each ear marked him as an Arbiter, one who went between villages and towns, conducted important meetings, and gave advice on local conflicts. He nodded to her, and greeted her in their own language.
“You are a Sand-Trancer, yes?” he asked. His accent, Zuri was happy to hear, was like hers, instead of like the Ponies’ harsh twangs and screeches. “There are other Trancers here, waiting for death or slavery. I doubt any of them have all the rings, though.”
“They lost them?” Zuri asked, curious.
“They didn’t earn them. The one next to me, he was captured, before training was complete. He was of Tabithun, nearby Otoul. Where do you hail?”
“From Otoul, myself.” Zuri let pride sneak into her voice. “Born, raised, and trained there.” Otoul was a Zebra city, known for its size and wealth.
“Stars above… were you trained by Dunnur? The Dunnur?” he asked, sounding very interested. Zuri nodded, just barely visible, In the dim light.
“I was. The old Dunnur is as wise as many of the rumors make him out to be, but not all of them. I haven’t seen him make a snake spit bubbles.” They shared a tight laugh.
“Ah, yes, I once had the chance to talk with Dunnur. I’d gone to Otoul, tracing down a Zebra who had stolen another’s personal belonging… I forget what it was, a jewel of some sort, though very pretty, I remember that much. I only spoke with him briefly. I never saw him use his training, but I was able to see that he was very wise.” Dunnur was one of the Sand-Trancers who not only had lived to his elder years but was still in good enough shape and with little enough injuries to be considered a fully functioning one. Though most old Trancers were honored for their skill and mind, Dunnur was honored for skill, mind, and continued strength in old age. All three in an Elder were considered to have achieved apotheosis of being. “He actually knew who the offender was. Helped me to find the culprit and return the item.”
“So, what is your name, Sir Arbiter?” Zuri asked the Arbiter.
“You’re the latest addition. You give me your name first. Full name, too, since you’re from Otoul.” Names were important to the Zebra culture. One’s name reflected their family and their position, and sometimes decided whether two meeting Zebras would be friends or enemies, given their respective families’ history.
“Zuri Oun-Drii Sara.” Zuri said, pride sneaking into her voice. The Zebras’ nomenclature was complicated. The first name was given by the parents, and always had an indirect but meaningful translation. The middle names were signs of position in the classes of economy, society, caste, and occupation. The last name was what differentiated families from others in their caste. One Zebra could easily find another with the same first name and class, but the last name would set them apart. Zuri’s first name meant ‘Breaking tedium’, and as such was a relatively uncommon name. Her middle name denoted her as one of the Oun-Drii, the Zebra nobles, as well as a Sand Trancer. The last name, Sara, was that of an ancient magician, Viva Sara, twelve generations old. Zuri would make it thirteen, if she lived through this.
“Heh, I can’t compete with that name. I am called Uzul Fa-un Annos, of Nussu.” Uzul, being an Arbiter, had position too. Uzul literally meant “High rocks”, Fa-un was Arbiter, a couple steps lower than Zuri, but only in matters of social events. When it came to politics, or assizes, the Arbiter was only trumped by the Premier Elder. Finally, Annos was an old name, with neither too much nor too little money. Zebras allowed changes of caste, and Uzul’s family had risen from that of servants. “And, yes, I know your family, Lady Zuri.” The male grinned at her, nodding his head again.
Zuri looked bashful, as Uzul used the appropriate title to address her as. “It seems few Zebras do not know of my family. I wanted to explore Palosol, to receive notoriety for myself, not just because of my family. I got my Premier Elders’ blessing, and now, well, here I am.” She frowned again, taking on a sarcastic tone. “How prestigious, the little Trancer girl captured by Ponies, to be sold. My parents would probably disown me, if they knew I’d gotten stuck like this.”
“Are they really that harsh? I was always told the Sara were quiet and cold, but are they so cold to their children?” Uzul asked, to which Zuri sighed.
“I needed to impress them, more than just becoming a Sand-Trancer, though it brought many smiles among my family when I appeared before them in this.” She gestured widely to her cloak, piercings, and neck adornments. “But I wanted more. So, I got their blessing, and left to explore. Now, I’m not so sure that I should have done anything at all.”
“Hey, maybe you’ll impress them by breaking us out of here?” Another voice called, from behind her. Zuri turned her head, and looked at another Zebra, this one a female, with the archetypical style of mane, put up straight above her head. She had many golden rings around her neck, and she had gold earrings. An alchemist. “Trancer, have you the he—oh, no, it wouldn’t work if you did.” The confidence in the other female’s voice vanished when she saw the cuffs around Zuri’s forelegs. “I’m assuming those cuffs are… what’s the word the Ponies use, in our tongue… ensconced?”
“Enchanted, I think and yes, they are. You a—”
“I am Druva Non-ni Altra, of Tedus. I am an alchemist, so, I can do nothing without my equipment. You think it a dishonor to your family that you are powerless without your Trancer’s magic? My position is like yours! My equipment was taken from me, all my brews destroyed, and the cauldron I used is probably being used as some… some… Coffee-table in some overweight, smelly pony’s house. All I was trying to do was make enough money for food.”
“They didn’t just capture you outright?” Zuri asked, surprised again.
“Not at all! I was setting up as an apothecary, I had a license that allowed me to live in Paradise city, and I thought I could be successful. How foolish THAT was. I thought Ponies would be kinder, or at least dumb enough to try something that would certainly heal a Zebra, even if I had no idea what it’d do to a Pony. How was I supposed to know some loudmouthed little girl would start vomiting on a simple stomach-settling brew?” Druva smiled, chuckling cruelly. “Now the little brat won’t stop barfing for the next week.”
Zuri thought it odd, but smiled all the same. With her experience with Ponies so far, she concluded that Druva’s little prank, while Zuri would call it rather harsh, was well deserved punishment. Uzul plainly disagreed. “Are you sure that was smart?” he remarked. “Maybe you could have made money, if you gave her a brew that worked.” Zuri noticed Uzul’s tone changing, to a slightly more authoritative one.
“Bah, the girl never paid me in full. I asked for ten bits, she gave me five and threatened to call the… what’s the word they use… the Sheriff if I didn’t let her have it then. So, I cooked up the brew real quick. She got what she payed for, a ‘poorly made’ upset stomach remedy.” Druva sat back, examining one of her hooves. “Pony won’t pay, Pony has a bad day. That was the motto that my mother encouraged. Well, maybe she shouldn’t have. I got chased out of Paradise City, and a bounty was placed on my head. I was able to stow away on a series of little wagons to get this far, before I was caught.” She groaned, rolling her eyes. “That mare, that redhead mare, is a psychopath. She had me beaten by her husband when she discovered me. Then she screamed for half an hour in my face about how dirty I was, and had my head dunked into mud as public entertainment. When I gasped for breath and ended up choking on wet dirt, they cheered. Pfft. And they call us sick.” The alchemist eyed her again. “You said your name was Zuri? Zuri Oun-Drii Sara? So you have…” She looked about her for any Ponies nearby, then spoke in a hushed voice. “The Gift?”
Zuri looked puzzled. Why would Druva need to lower her voice? They weren’t speaking the Ponies’ language. There should be no problem, unless of course Ponies had begun to learn it themselves. Cautious of that threat, instead of a spoken answer, she nodded meaningfully. Druva referred to magical blood, magic not given through runes or sayings, but granted by heritage. Zuri’s family was famous for it. Every Sara child was born with it, though the tradition of becoming a Sand Trancer was more recent. “It was what I was asking before,” Druva explained, “when I heard you were a Trancer. The cuffs make it useless… don’t they?”
Zuri nodded, abysmally holding up her cuffed fore-hooves for Druva to see in the musty, dark light of the stable. “I swore I wouldn’t dare use the gift in the presence of a Pony. I swore on my life, and I intend to keep it.”
Just then, a loud bang of metal made Zuri jump, and everyone immediately fell silent. Zuri looked towards the entrance as it swung open and revealed a black stallion with some obvious weight issues. He had dusty blue eyes, and held in his teeth a clipboard. He bore a dark look on his face as he walked down the steps and to Zuri’s cell. Spitting the clipboard out onto the floor, Zuri was able to see it was nothing like the vague description some scouting Zebras gave of the things. The paper on it wasn’t simply covered with little markings. The markings were moving, cycling, with symbols and marks.
“Name,” the stallion said, not looking up at Zuri, instead drawing markings on the paper. Zuri blinked a few times, before realizing what he meant.
“Zuri,” she answered simply. There was no need for her full name. No Pony would understand its meaning, much less care.
“Age,” the stallion said.
“Um…” Zuri hadn’t bothered to learn the words for numbers that Ponies used. She doubted she would have any use for them. Instead, experimentally, she spoke her age in her native tongue. The stallion hesitated a moment, then wrote the appropriate number down.
“Number of foal bearings?” the stallion asked.
“I am not married,” Zuri responded. The stallion asked his question again, marginally more hardness in his voice. “I am not married,” Zuri repeated, mimicking his increase in displeasure. The stallion asked three more times, before he looked up at her, his impatience obvious in his face.
“Look, you idiot girl. I don’t care if you’ve married or not. I want to know if you’ve ever borne a foal.” Zuri didn’t understand. One did not dare perform coitus unless one was married. That was how her society worked. It was not just how her social class behaved, it was law, and to break it was punishable in multiple ways, ways she didn’t think about for good and sufficient reasons. “Well, have you?”
“I have not,” Zuri said, with anger in her voice to equal that in his expression.
“If anything, he’s popped out a few foals. It would explain why he’s so grumpy,” Druva muttered in Zebra-tongue. Zuri had to stifle a giggle, and it came out as an obvious humorous snort.
“Shut up!” The stallion shouted, before he continued. “What can you do, besides giggle and growl?”
Zuri grew angry again, showing it on her face. She would not cooperate with him. “Nothing. I am but an idiot girl,” she replied, in a taunting voice.
The stallion sighed, looking back up at her, as if to say ‘alright, have it your way.’ “Then you’ll probably be some lucky rich stallion’s heir’s first rut. I’m done with you.” The stallion took up the board in his mouth, and departed.
“Not smart, Lady Trancer.” Druva said, sitting back against the bars facing Zuri’s cell. “That was the one they call Ramrod. He has a lot of influence over… who purchases us.”
“He is a plump… Edrecht, for lack of a kinder word.” Uzul said. “No one would get away with accusing an Oun-Drii Lady of adultery if I were running things, and certainly not him and his trollop, that one with the red hair and long eyelashes.”
“She and him? Ponies are strange and cruel,” Zuri commented quietly, anger still evident in her bearing and voice.
Fairly soon night fell, leaving Zuri and the other fated zebras in darkness. Zuri heard the crying of young foals. Children… They imprison children. Zuri would take the first opportunity she got, if she ever got these cuffs off, to punish someone. Those Ponies before were scared because I was near their young. I’d love to see the look on their faces when they find out just how much damage I could have done… but I can’t, because I gave the Premier my word. Wonderful, Zuri. Maybe you really are an idiot girl.
“Lady Trancer, are you still awake?” Uzul asked, looking at her with concern.
“I’d rather you did not call me by my title,” Zuri said, glaring at the ground and prodding it with her hoof. “I don’t want it. I left to become a Zebra who wasn’t just identified by her title. Now I’ll be identified as a toy for some undeserving wad of gunk, for sure.”
“It’s what I hold on to.” Uzul said to her, solemn. “I’ve only been locked up for so long, but some here… They have waited for months, for the next Zebra auction, trapped in these cages. I am an Arbiter, and it’s my duty to keep my fellow Zebra content. It was my obligation when I was free, and it remains my obligation now.”
“But what of me? I am a Sand Trancer denied her power. I’ve no runes I can draw, no spells to say. They won’t work with these cuffs.”
“Maybe not, but a Sand Trancer is not just trained to harness the power of Palosol, no?” Uzul became encouraging. “No student of the Dunnur would ever achieve full Trancer status without the ability to strike their enemy down with bare hooves.”
“Fair point,” Zuri replied, with little difference in her voice. “I could probably throttle a few of them, with these metal cuffs, I would happily do so. But how stupid are they? When would they ever give me that kind of chance?”
“Maybe now,” Uzul said, right as the door opened again. Down came Ramrod, with a ring of keys hanging by his right ear. He was followed by three stallions. One of them Zuri recognized with contempt: Matchlock’s son, Blast-cap.
“Sit up, Zebras,” Ramrod barked, and all of the Zebras reluctantly sat up, some children stifling their crying for fear of reprimand. Ramrod walked along the aisle of cells slowly, with Blast-cap next to him. “So, kid, you wanted one of them?”
“Oh yeah. They may be crazy stripe-covered freaks, but that one you got yesterday… I just can’t stop thinkin’ about her,” Blast-cap responded, anxiety and an odd hunger in his voice.
Ramrod gave an amused snort. “Oh kid, you’ve got a pair. A Zebra, no, a Trancer in my bed would make me piss myself, though I admit…” Ramrod walked up to Zuri’s cell, light from a lantern illuminating his face as he leaned in, smiling lecherously at her. “She’s a cutie, alright.”
Zuri stared back at Ramrod a look of you-wouldn’t-dare on her face. Ramrod laughed at this response. “Cutie, but, again, kid, a pair! Uh, you want her in this cell or…”
“No, dammit, I don’t want her in that dirty ol’ cell! I’ll pull her over to the hotel where we’re stayin’. I got my private room.” Blast-cap looked proud of himself, so vibrantly smug. Ramrod kept muttering about a pair, whatever that meant, as he unlocked Zuri’s cell, and the two other stallions pulled her out and slammed her against the opposite wall.
“Now, Stripey, you listen close.” Ramrod pushed her face against the wall with one hoof digging into her cheek. “You try anything outside and you’ll die. I’m guessin’ you don’t wanna die, but hey, maybe you will after tonight.”
“Rammy! Rammy, where are you? Where did that stallion go, I can never keep track…” Cherry Jubilee’s voice rang out from the open door. Ramrod cursed under his breath, and ordered the stallions to take Zuri over to where Blast-cap was staying. Zuri looked behind her as they pushed her past Uzul’s and Druva’s cells. Druva was either asleep or didn’t want to watch. Uzul was watching her go with a sad look on his face.
Once outside, Zuri breathed in deeply. The air inside the stables was musty and sour. Fresh air was a welcome experience. Apparently, Blast-cap was staying with his father and other wagon passengers in the hotel across the way. Zuri couldn’t tell what the sign above the front doors said, as the stallions moved her up a set of stairs leading directly to the second floor. Blast-cap was behind them, grinning up to his ears, a hungry look in his eyes.
Opening the door, and being pushed in, Zuri stumbled into a long hallway with a red and yellow carpet and white walls. Circular lights gleamed at regular two-meter intervals along the walls. There were doors on either side, and Zuri could hear muffled music coming from the lower floor. The little group moved to a door on the far end of the hall. Blast-cap went in first, and Zuri was shoved in afterward. The two stallions stayed right outside the door. Stumbling, Zuri turned around, glaring at Blast-cap’s back as he locked the door. The colt turned around again, grinning at her the same way Ramrod had.
“Take off that stupid cloak. You may have been cavortin’ with every hobble-legged, dirty faced male in your little tribe, stripey, but now it’s time for a real stallion to have at ya.” His gloating tone and clear desire made Zuri dislike him all the more, but she slowly removed her cloak and left it on the floor. “Now get on that bed…” Blast-cap gestured to the large, white-sheeted bed, across the wooden entryway. Under the bed was another carpet as luxurious as the one in the hallway to the one outside. There was a bathroom to her left, and a window on the wall to the right of the bed. Zuri, feigning obedience, walked towards the bed and lay down on it.
Blast-cap grinned again, clambered onto it alongside her, and turned around. “Hey, how about a back massage first, stripey? Better put those hooves through some practice with rubbing, first, and I’ll take the cuffs off when you’re done, heh…”
Zuri saw her opportunity, and took it. “Of course.” She leapt at him with astounding speed, bringing the chain of the cuffs around his neck. “I’ve always wanted to practice this.” There was obvious pleasure in her voice as she said this, and then began to pull, hard. Blast-cap immediately gasped, trying to wrench away from her.
Zuri backed herself up against the back of the bed, dragging Blast-cap with her. “Now… if you want me to let you go, then you give me the key to these cuffs.”
“Aa-ach…!” was all Blast-Cap could say for a moment. Zuri ever so slightly loosened her pull on his neck, while her hind-legs wrapped around his middle to restrain his movement. “D-don’t… don’t kill me! I-I can’t die a virgin!” he gasped, panic-stricken, making Zuri roll her eyes.
“Oh, whatever happened to being a real stallion?” Zuri taunted, giving a hard yank with the cuff chain and making him gag. “Being so obsessed with what’s between your legs… in my village we’d cut it off for that.” While adultery was penalized with a whipping, her threat was no exaggeration. Castration and a beating were the only punishments for rape. “Choking to death is much more honorable than being a gelding, don’t you think?”
“Aw hell... No, I–” She pulled again. “-gachh… I-I’ll give you the key, I’ll give it… here!” His horn lit up and flickered a bit, before a key levitated up to Zuri’s face. Zuri gave a little triumphant cry, and took the handle in her mouth, then quickly unlocked both her hooves from the cuffs.
Blast-Cap fell forward, coughing and gasping for air as he rolled off the bed. Zuri hopped off, and pressed the colt’s face against the floor with a hoof. “Which direction is this… Paradise City your elders blabbed on about?” she demanded. Blast-cap whined something pitiful, and she pressed her hoof down harder. “I asked you a question, Pony. You answer.”
“Gch… East… East of here… we’ve been goin’ straight the whole time, I swear…”
“And how far have you travelled?” she asked, narrowing her eyes, with a dangerous hiss below her words.
Blast-cap grew even more panicked. “Miles! sixteen miles, at least, from where we found you…”
Zuri blinked. She knew what miles meant, but... “I know not of your numerals. Tap with your hoof, how many miles.” Blast-cap, after a moment of confusion, tapped on the floor sixteen times. Zuri hissed a swear word in her native tongue that would make her whole family blush at once, even the more crass of her uncles, and shoved Blast-cap away from her. “Soucha!?” She angrily spat the Zebra word for sixteen. “I cannot travel Soucha as well as the Nittacha I must already!” Nittacha was the word for nineteen, which meant Zuri was thirty-five miles from her home.
“Look, I-I’ve got no idea what those words mean… are those numbers or swears?” Blast-cap said, rather dimly, as he cowered.
“Oh shut up, you perverse cretin. If I hear one more word…”
“Guards! Guards!” Blast-cap suddenly began bleating. “Help! The Stripey’s loose!”
Zuri would have cursed again, but whether she did or not was impossible to tell, as the immediate banging on the door blotted the sound of any oaths being said out. The freed Trancer raised her hoof, and struck Blast-cap on the head precisely between his eyes, knocking him unconscious. Just then, the door burst open, and the two stallions rushed in, going for her. Now that she had no restraints and there was no sign of any weapons around, Zuri gladly confronted them.
One hoof went for her head. She dodged, and struck at the base of the extended leg, causing the stallion to grunt and recoil in surprise at her aim and strength. Zuri dove downward, and knocked away his hind legs with her own, coming back up just as he fell down. She was about to strike his lowered head with her fore-hooves, but the second moved in, landing a blow against the side of her face with his left fore-hoof. Ugh, again?
Recovering quickly, she then grabbed his hoof with both of her forelegs and twisted, counter-clockwise. He squawked comically as he bent with his foreleg, trying to prevent her from breaking it. She pushed to her right, hard, until she heard a loud crunch. The stallion crumpled to the floor, just as the other stood back up again. Before he could do anything, Zuri spun around, and kicked him in the face with one hind leg, sending him down again. She assured herself that they were properly stunned with several rapid kicks to each one’s stomach. One of them threw up after her second kick. A little sickened, Zuri stepped over both the prone, groaning guards and made for the door.