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// A Troublesome Filly 
// Story: Shaman of the Zaharren 
// by Beware The Carpenter 
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My name is Zecora, a zebra and mare;
I was born to a family which had money to spare.
My father, a shaman, of great might and authority
But sadly these things had become his priority.
He could see the devastation wrought on our kind
To the loss of our innocence he was not at all blind.
He claimed to love truth, and hold wisdom as dear
But though he may wish for righteousness, his master was fear.

From the earliest memories that I can recall
I had unending desires to learn and know all.
My family’s garden was my annexed domain
My love was for science, that much was plain
No time for dolls, and short time for foals
My love was for nature, the universe whole.

The trees spoke to me of beauty and mirth
So strong and so gentle as they grew up from the earth.
The water, it sang with its sweet, bubbling stridor
Of the same master-craftsman as the web-spinning-spider.
I bounded through endless days and nights of elation
And I explored all I could of the great artist’s creation.

Were I a colt, I would have doubtless been given,
The shaman’s vocation; for which I was driven.
But as a mare I was barred from shaman’s higher learning
But I would not have this, for my passion was burning!

Whenever my brothers left their books lying about
I would go and snatch them, like water in drought.
Read till the secrets of their lore were unlocked,
Then give the books back, but in my mind I’d concoct,
A thousand new ways to use what I’d learned,
Always alert for new data to churn.

My father learned of at least some of my thirst,
When knowledge from him I tried to coerce.
He did not approve but neither forbade
Believing this interest was naught but a phase.

I copied the arts of the shaman as much as allowed
Though most of these arts I was forced to enshroud;
And yet, there were others whose probation was less clear
And so I could practice without need for fear.
Most obvious was that, when I spoke in rhyme
It forced me to plan my words ahead of time.
To think before speaking, several lines in advance
Ensures that one’s clarity is not surrendered to chance.   
A shamanic training gimmick, I made it law;   
I practiced and practiced until it came without flaw.  

My knowledge accumulated, as I grew older
And my quest for more knowledge grew all the bolder.
So in my young teens I began hidden revolt
Attending true classes, disguised as a colt.
Three simple potions to alter face, stripes, and voice
And a shamanic robe, completed my choice.

With my new identity would I maneuver my passes
Into the temple and shamanic classes;
And looked on the depths to which our arts had decayed
And how ancient wisdom had been butchered and flayed.
Lies and delusions were honored as doctrines of worth
And the gods of the lamas were worshiped with mirth!

And over this adultery of evil and vice
Stood Chief Shaman Ragarrock, a creature of avarice.
A unicorn zebra; most ancient in years
A viper, who long since had defeated all peers.
His horn, early deformed, splitting half-way,
Protruding to two points that curved outward a-fey;
And between them he could wield such monstrous power,
He could compel five alpha unicorns to wither and cower.

I confess at the start I was not very brave;
and there was a time when my resolve nearly waved.
But I prayed to the Logos and it gave me strength
Its peace and Its goodness came in unending length.

Through the grace of the Logos, my power multiplied
Swiftly outstripping those fattened on lies.
Passing with speed those raised in the temple
Until even some elders soon came to tremble.

Many great duels we fought in our tests
And in one in particular I excelled to be best.
Two shaman or more would round one cauldron stand
To prepare two rival potions, as they’d been given the plan.
One thousand ingredients would be placed all around
So that endless possibilities of combinations would abound.

My goal would be to brew one potion,
While my opponent pursued another notion.
Perhaps I’d seek antidote for a deadly disease
While my foe would craft opiate, by his expertise.
Among all of our options, which were different each time,
We must learn to browse quickly in order to find,
Things that would sway the concoction towards our separate goals,
And null all interferences from our enemies as we fought for the bowl.
To enhance your own goals and predict your opponents next movement
It felt much like chess, but with a thousand improvements.

During this time I began to foresee
A time when the Logos would wield far more than just me.
I began to find others who had come to realize,
The scales the Order had placed over most eyes.
We would meet in secret and lament the old ways,
And consider how we could inspire brighter days.

It came not long after, that my father discovered
All I was doing, and the ground that I’d covered.
He feared for my safety, to affirm me he baulked
Saying it was not my duty to challenge Ragarrock.
He was right of course; it was not my station;
It was his job to speak, and to challenge our nation!

But he failed this task, refusing its danger
Like most other shamen, who had cowed to be changers.
My brothers, my uncles, my elders, and colts
All shied from their duties, to from evil revolt.
Neglecting their honor, to which they were sworn
They kept silent; betraying those they should warn.
So if the Logos now chose a young filly instead,
So be it, I thought, this path I would tread!

But my father would not see me continue in strife
He thought such a calling would just take my life.
Nor would he allow the misdeeds of one daughter
Risk the pride of the family to teeter and falter.
He sought kindly but surely, my rebellion to doff
His solution was simple—he married me off.


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