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// Ch 2: Fragmentation 
// Story: Zecora's Exodus 
// by TheRussianBrony 
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Zecoras Exodus: Fragmentation


Zecora awoke in the middle of the night. She felt uncomfortable, and was breathing quickly. The sound of her sister sleeping on her bed calmed her down a bit, and helped ease her troubled mind. Zuri had a cute way of squeezing into a pillow and emitting tender breathing sounds. The bed sheet rose and fell, in synchronization with her noises. The younger zebra's mane was crumpled against the soft bed. Zecora shifted her gaze toward the unbolted window, which was moving slightly from the calm breeze.
A crisp, white, moon shone in the window, and was only partly blocked out by the lavender curtains, made of the thinnest linen in the country. The night sky was serene in this condition, and blended well with the navy tones of the darkened room.
Zecora took in a breath after taking in the eerily calm, and beautiful environment. These moments only happened a few times in a lifetime. 
She shivered in her makeshift bed. Galavarian nighttimes were known for their unexpected drop in temperature. It often shifted from intense heat in the day to nulling cold in the night. Silver Sands wasn't even the best example of this, the nearby river cooled down the day and warmed up the night. Somewhere like Cracked Earth City would constantly test inhabitant's willpower and loyalty. That is why all of the most renowned priests and oracles, would go on annual pilgrimages to the place; thanking their gods and goddesses, by the strength of their ancestors who lived in the region before the first town ever appeared on Galavaria. Zecora had no recollection of ever going to the city, but she knew her parents took her their shortly after she started to speak.

Clop, clop, clop, clop. Creak...

Her ears perked up. Somepony was in the room with them. She did not breath, and her heart began to race at a blistering pace. Whoever that pony was, he was not of her kin, and he did not want to be discovered. He continued his slow trot through the entrance of the room, giving off heavy hoofsteps. Her heart was now beating so fast that she was afraid of it giving away her remotely hidden location to the perpetrator's left. 
A thick cloth fell on her muzzle, covering it with dried earth. It was the pony's heavy white cloak, which was far from white and was roughly mended in several places.
Only now did she realize that she had held her breath in for far too long, and her body couldn't handle a second more. She forced herself to inhale slowly and deliberately. The dry piece of dirt crumbled under the pressure of her inspiration, and fluttered inside of her muzzle. The pressure she felt in her sinuses was unbearable. With all of her might she attempted to stifle her inevitable sneeze, but she knew she couldn't hold it for long. She quickly refocused her attention to her surroundings and the advancing equine. Acting on impulse, Zecora grabbed the pony's back-left hoof, and pulled.
The stranger tumbled to the ground, but was already in the process of getting up. Just as he was ready to confront Zecora and face her, Zecora exploded in his face with her massive sneeze; it blew the pony off of his hooves and landed him back on the ground in a flurry of panic and surprise. Wasting no time, Zecora swung around and landed a hard buck on his ribcage; she felt ribs crack, and disconnect from his chest. As she pushed her hooves in deeper, she felt the splintered ribs pierce the pony's lungs and other internal organs. His eyes slid up in his head, and his mouth became a slow fountain of blood.
Zecora ran to the bed-stand and light the lamp. The room was engulfed in the warm atmosphere the lamp provided. It also shed enough light to expose the splayed body of the pony struggling to breath on her bedroom floor.
His body was lying in a puddle of red, which soaked into his filthy cloak and coat. Zecora looked at his features; he was not a regular pony, but also not a zebra, his hooves and rump were only characteristic of a Saddle Arabian. She looked upon the body in disbelief he had regained most of his consciousness and was now flailing about with his hooves, and causing a racket by smashing into the bedpost and the bureau.
Over a couple of minutes, his thrashing slowed, and then stopped altogether; his fore-hooves, hind-hooves, and neck, ceased to spasm, and he silently lowered his head onto the floor, landing on the epicenter of the smeared blood. His soil plastered coat was now a sponge to the surrounding blood that his body so fervently pumped out of his body. Zecora watched the once white fabric go from dusty beige, to shiny burgundy. She realized that she was no longer hearing that serene moment, that seemed like such a short time away. Wait.
Zuri screamed.


Zecora tried her best to embrace her sister in a hug, while she wept into her with painful sobs. The two zebras sat waiting, waiting for anything, maybe their mother would come and explain all of this, maybe...
A shiny object caught Zecora's eye. It was concealed under the cloak of the dead Saddle Arabian. A shimmer from a hard, felt, sheath. She placed her sister down and stepped over to the body, carefully avoiding the blood. She extended her hoof to the sheath and took it. It had a fair weight to it, and was awkward to hold. Zecora's pupils contracted when she understood what it was. It was a curved dagger of black metal; the honed edge of the blade shone like a silver lining of a cloud. The felt hilt held a mark that resembled a circle with four adjacent arrows, pointing in every direction.
She looked back at the crumpled form. The same mark was in the center of the white cloak; it was roughly sewn on and was made of green fabric. The pony was also wearing alligator armor without metal plating. 
A green circle with arrows protruding. She couldn't pinpoint where she had seen this mark, whether it was on a trade cart, or in a book, she couldn't remember. Zuri had stopped crying and was now just shaking on the bed. The older zebra approached her sister, and put her hoof on her sister's shoulder.
“Zuri, I need to check on mother; you just stay put and avoid this clutter.” Zecora softly spoke into the retracted ear of her dear sister. Zuri replied by a simple nod of her head. The older zebra stepped away from the bed and gave the lying figure a reassuring tap on the shoulder.
As Zecora was leaving the room she decided to grab the Saddle Arabian's knife, Celestia knows who else was out after them. She closed the door to her room and locked it. 
Her mother's room was down the long hallway and to the right. Zecora cautiously advanced through the compromised house, expecting anything from anywhere. The darkness didn't help her navigate, but she could see the general outline of the doors and the floor beneath her fore-hooves. She could see her goal's doorknob. It was giving off a pale golden shine, as it sagged down from age. The door was not closed. It was subtly ajar, as if inviting it's prey in, hospitably, then to strike it down when it least expects it!
Zecora closed her eyes as she pushed the door open, the tension in the air was unbearable, sweat dropped in her eyes, giving her a stinging sensation, she rubbed it away. The room seemed calm, and the only noise she could hear her own erratic breathing. She took a calm breath. A calm breath? Zecora's eyes began to dart around the room trying to pinpoint the location of the fast paced breathing. They land on her mothers canopied bed. The shades are pulled down, to keep the bugs at bay, as usual. Aela hated bugs, she was tough as nails, but bugs just got to her.
Zecora knew her mother was beyond that veil, but the young zebra was frozen in fear. Nopony breathed like that unless they were injured. Thoughts flew inside of her mind of her mother sliced up and defiled. Shaking those thoughts out of her head, she proceeded to open the shades with more confidence.
With a panicking start, her fears were confirmed. Aela was laying on her side and the mattress under her was undeniably soaked with her own blood. It was streaming from her neck, which was deeply lacerated in several places. Zecora dropped the knife she was holding a ran to her mother's side. The blood pool stained Zecora's coat, and spilled over the side of the compressed cushion.
Her mother was in a grisly shape; there were several chunks torn out of the side of her neck and many stab wounds dotting her striped flank, like deplorable polka dots. She was breathing in fast and shallow waves. Not good. You didn't need to be a doctor to be able to tell that she wasn't going to pull through the night. 
“Tell me who has done this to you mother, and I shall take their kin and smother.” Zecora squealed out in painful resonance of the good life that was quickly falling apart on her. Her voice was weak and wavering in tones, a simple whisper would turn into a manifest of uncontrollable voice cracks.
Aela, clearly in a different place within her mind, turned to Zecora and spoke, “My dear, take Zuri and run. Do not seek *Coughing* vengeance for this, just run. Go now gallop into the desert, make your way to the North, it is *Coughing* safer there. Let me die in peace, child.”
Still unable to fully comprehend the severity of the situation, Zecora hugged her mother's dying body tighter, and silently hoped that all of this was just a bad dream. 

Zecora continued to hug Aela for a long time. So long, that when it was time to continue, her forelegs were glued to her mother with the drying blood. She heard a door being broken in and a little filly screaming. She hesitated, buried in grief, her normal senses clouded, not being able to concentrate on more than one simple task at hand. Ok, my sister is in trouble, I need to, I need to... I need to save her! The sudden clarity rushed to her and she busted through her mothers chamber doors and sprinted to her own, no longer concerning herself with stealth. 
Slipping on the carpet she bashed her head against the wall of the hallway; her ear tore at the corner and began to bleed. Zecora swore under her breath, her vision was doubled. Ignoring the pain and disorientation, she galloped into what she thought was her room. Instead, she was greeted by a dark broom closet, not bothering with fully examining the room Zecora continued her way back to her own chambers. Fully certain that the next room belonged to her, she opened the door and collapsed inside.
The room was vacant of any pony life, only the dead soldier, and the calm, animated movement of the curtains. Her heart was plunged into a bucket of liquid nitrogen. She had failed her sister, and now Zuri was at the mercy of the very ponies who had slaughtered her mother. It was a grim realization. The blood dripping from her ear slid down her face and into the corner of her mouth, the nauseating metallic taste caused the zebra to gag in disgust and agony.
Taking the least amount of time to compose herself, Zecora again focused her mind through the pain. I need to find her, and get her out of this place. She trotted back out of her room and down the large entrance stairs, taking care to not fall once again. She feared that another strong impact would render her useless.
Her only way to save her sister was to stalk the rats back to their nest, and steal their prey. She needed to be stealthy. The large entrance door was sealed shut; Zecora simply took a small detour through the nearby lounge room, and exited the mansion through a large window. Not a noise was made, even the crickets were silent. The zebra stared through the darkness towards the way she thought the soldiers went, indeed there were still vague traces of a floating cloud of dust that their hooves had kicked up. She followed it, avoiding the road, but galloping as fast as she could, the time she was using to catch up to them was time not being used to notice the perfect opportunity to kidnap her sister back.
A painful 20 minutes had passed, but they had arrived at their destination. Wrought iron banners spanned the perimeter of the camp, their insignia pointing out the same strange mark, a circle with four protruding arrows coming out of it. The color scheme was also the same; green symbols on white cloth. Camp fires were twinkling in the center-most point of camp, and was surrounded by a group of cheery Saddle Arabians, who were gabbling in their own tongue, which was incomprehensible to Zecora.
She had pursued the assassins and decided to stop near the edge of the camp near the edge of the woods; shedding light on the fact that there was a system of watch ponies, who would spot her without a blink if she tried to sneak into the camp. She figured her only way in would be to walk behind a guard party, or when the watch was being shifted.
The sound of bushes being rustled erupted a hut's length to her left. A heavily accented Saddle Arabian barked orders to a prisoner, “Prisoner! You no where to go, we catch you in end.” This statement was followed by laughing from the captors, and more rustling in the bushes to her left, the sounds were getting closer to Zecora. 
The suddenness of the situation startled Zecora and left her with no time to think.
“Horse zorse!” She hissed under her breath, just as the fleeing pony prisoner tripped over her lying body. The topaz blur was now lying in a pile several hooflengths away from Zecora. She looked at his flank and sighed, a clipboard. The inspector once again needed her help. Taking no time to think, she jumped up and snatched up his cream mane, effectively throwing him over her back; she felt like a miner in the prison, except she wasn't lugging around anything worth buying.
Her head and side ached as she professionally slithered through the forest, making no noise. These woods were familiar to her, and she was able to crawl out from under the hooves of the pursuers in a short amount of time. She couldn't understand why she wasted the time to save him. The inspector was snoring on her back. Zecora roughly bucked him off, and he crashed to the ground in confusion. 
“Whoah what!? Where am I? Who are you? Oh AH! The guards? Where are--” Zecora shut up the pony by stuffing her hoof as far down his throat as she possible could. For a couple of seconds he gagged on it, but then he reviewed his environment, and decided to be silent. Now, in a significantly quieter tone her asked Zecora, “Who are you?”
“I am Zecora Aela Stripewood, and I am not in the mood to be stuck on this rood.” She spat back at him in a hushed accent.
“Whoa, do you always talk like that? And what do you mean by getting stuck here?”
“Silence pony! Leave me be.” Zecora whispered this while pointing out the bowl shaped clearing that they were stuck in. They were being pinned by the woods to their flanks, and the small cliffside to their front.
The topaz pony was having trouble keeping up behind Zecora as she followed the fault line to another place that she knew overlooked the campsite of the invaders.
Another 30 minutes passed, and Zecora took a crouching pose at the edge of the forest. The Saddle Arabian's were starting to head off to bed, and switching their positions at the post. Adrenaline shot through her, as she came to the realization that this may be the only chance to grab Zuri.
“You aren't really going in there right?! That's insane, they'll catch you.” The inspector whispered into her ringing ear; she winced in discomfort. 
Closing her eyes and shaking her head, she began to quickly slither to the edge of the camp. 
“What am I supposed to do?! If they catch me, I'm done! Please, just tell me what I should do.”
Zecora stopped dead in her tracks and sighed in annoyance. She came to the conclusion that if she didn't send him on his merry way, he wouldn't shut up, and if he didn't shut up, all of the darkness in tartarus wouldn't hide her from the guards.
Slowly, she turned 180 degrees to face him, a scowl aimed at him menacingly.
“Very well pony, I'll give you my help, but think you not that I am now your crony.” Zecora forced. The inspector had a nervous smile. He took the opportunity to break the silence, “My name is Mysterymeat, I work as an--”
Zecora decided to interrupt him, “I know who you are, word travels far.”
Then she continued, “OK, I require that you lay. I will get my Zuri, and then we will flee.”
With that, Mystery trotted backwards into the woods, and sunk down into the brush. Satisfied with his concealment, Zecora continued her infiltration of the camp.
She watched the guard trotting back to his tent, and decided to tail him. He was moving slowly, but seemed to be quiet enough to conceal her presence. Zecora saw another guard was headed in the opposite direction, he was merely a nod away from seeing her stripes. In the nick of  time, she fell into a nearby tent, it was a leap of faith, but it worked. She fell into a stack of empty cardboard boxes that toppled over without too much noise. She scanned her environment thoroughly and identified it as the cafeteria, nopony was in sight. Exhaling the breath she was holding in through the whole experience she calmed down, and looked for a weapon; the knife she was in possession of was laying on the floor in her mothers room. Only in her confusion had she forgotten it. She caught a glimpse of a bread knife in the metal water basin. With a quick swipe it took hold in between her strong jaws.
Trotting to the other side of the cafeteria and looking out of the tent flap, she only saw adjacent tents and their shadows, wavering in the falling light of the fire. Daring a glace back at it, she confirmed that there were no soldiers around it.
Zecora wasted no time in emerging from her hiding spot and making her way to the darkness, away from the fire. She still had no idea where to start looking for her sister, and although the camp was not large, it would take her a little while before she could find it. And she was much more confident with her new weapon.
She had made no progress, and the adrenaline that was masking her pain was wearing off, and clouding her mind. Suddenly she heard hushed voices.
“Silence you zorse!” A gruff tone stated.
“Please mister, what are you going to do with us?” A childish voice asked. You could hear the smile forming on the crude pony's face when he said, “You? Well, you and the others will be sent to your prison to mine for the glory of Saddle Arabia. At least that's what happened with the others.”
After a second of thought, more voices joined in with the small foal's.
“No! You can't do that, we'll all die, the hardest zebra's have come out of that place as sniveling wrecks! Why would you torture the foals like--” 
Clearly the guard had had enough, and slammed the side of the cages with a spear, silencing the complaining prisoners.
“Shut up! There are plenty of you to mine that place clean in a few months, those who survive will be allowed back into their homes.”
A brave captive spoke in a shaky voice, “Bu-But we won't survive a few months, most of us are barely able to walk to the neighboring town.”
“Pity.” The guard apathetically scoffed. Zecora heard crying, and more pleading.
She hid inside of a tent where the bunks were vacant of any bedding, and personal items. She sat down on the poorly cushioned bunk and placed her face in her hooves. How could they do this? The prison was the most dangerous place aside from the Zebrahara desert, but at least the Zebrahara wasn't underground. What if Zuri was already there? I didn't spot her amongst the prisoners. That was another thing, what am I to do about the prisoners? Do I leave them to rot, or blow my cover? Zecora gave off an exasperated sigh. She had made her decision. 

The prison guard held his form and dreamed about his sweetheart at home, who he would promptly see in another couple of weeks. He could practically smell her fresh tuber soup, with chunks of yams, and sand-nuts. He closed his eyes so he could more properly enjoy the savory scent he memorized. His mouth was dripping with saliva. The guard wondered if the captain would allow him to take a photo of the beautiful Silver Sands area with the company's camera, so he could show his mother where he was all of this time. His heart ached, he would never admit it to his friends and fellow grunts, but he was desperately homesick. He took a quick glance at his hooves in sorrow.
Zecora flew out of the darkness like a jackalope and fell onto the back of the unaware guard. Her bread knife found it's way into his neck, and began to saw at a terrifying speed. She felt the distinct crackling of the destroyed cartilage in the throat. Her steady rhythm was brought to a crunching stop when the knife hit the spinal cord. She tried to push it beyond the bone, but the knife was too dull, and the bones too thick. Regardless of her passionate impulse filled with rage, tears, and gore, she simply shook in terror at the deed she had just done.
“Hey, you!? What are you doing, are you here to save us or not?” Came the hushed whisper of a caged zebra.
“Dear Celestia! Did you see what she did with that guard?” A female Zebra spoke, “Don't let the children see!”
Zecora was gone, her ears were ringing in a mosquito tone, her only feeling was that of loathing to herself, and the dull throbbing of every damaged part of her weary body. She gradually melted back into reality when a prisoner pelted her with a stone from the floor of the cage.
“That ought to bring her back.” Snarked a younger zebra.
“You insensitive foal, can't you see she's in pain already?” An older captive retorted.
Zecora, stood up out of the pile of meat she had butchered.
“See, it worked. Now we'll be able to escape.” The younger zebra told the older one.
Zecora moved her hooves around in the fleshy mess. Her hoof felt a sturdy metal ring, in the pool of red. She reached in and pulled it out. She took one last look at the prisoners in the cage, none of them were Zuri, and that could only mean one thing. She chucked the ring into the cage filled with zebras, turned around, and galloped into the darkness.