//------------------------------// // Changing Perspectives // Story: Outland // by Dafaddah //------------------------------// Outland by Dafaddah Chapter six: Changing Perspectives Edited by Sharp Logic, Microshazm and Mythee (Revised) Shad didn’t like the taste in his mouth. He tried to turn his muzzle away but it wouldn’t move. He felt so heavy! Worse, he couldn’t managed to open his eyes. Something huge held his head in its powerful grip. The monster! His hooves scratched feebly at the soft ground below him as tried to growl. He heard a mewling sound, and realized it was his own throat making the noise. “Hush now colt, be brave! You are safe within your cave.” The voice was gentle and the words drove away the cobwebs cluttering his mind. Scent provided something more, something he could trust, and from his memory it called forth a name and face. Zecora. He relaxed as he breathed in the warm essence of her presence. Familiar. Friend. Safe. He tried to raise his head, causing her to adjust her grip. “Shad, my lad, stop your fuss!” she cooed. “To take your medicine you must.” Huge and warm, her presence next to him felt so good! He leaned into the striped fur. Her barrel shook as she chuckled. “To get it cost me fur and skin, so open wide and drink it in!” It took an effort for him to crack open his mouth. Something wet and bitter trickled into it. He swallowed it quickly and tried not to retch at the taste it left on his tongue. After a few deep breaths he finally managed to say some words. “Tastes bad!” The chuckle became a laugh. “Shiver Wort will slake the fire, help you heal and not expire.” Finally Shad managed to blink open his eyes. He realized that he lay wrapped by one of Zecora’s forelegs. Her other forelimb held a leaf folded into a cup. She brought it to lips and he drank down the rest of its contents. “That was awful,” he said with a burp, making her laugh again. A thought occurred to him. “Didn’t smell this awful medicine in your bag before. Where did Zecora find it? Can’t see.” The mare put down the cup. “It was you who gave me the clue!” She wrapped another forelimb around him as well. “Shiver Wort is often found below the knife bush on the ground.” He noticed a long red scratch on the right side of her face. “You’re hurt! Did you touch the knife bushes?” Zecora sighed. “Near the knife bushes I most cautiously went, staying low as I gathered wort plants by scent.” Her ears drooped slightly and she smiled sheepishly. “But upon my return like a foal I made haste. The cave passageway rocks took the price from my face!” Stretching out his good foreleg, he stroked a spot on her chin. “Momma has a scar on her face there too...” He slowly pulled his hoof back down, looking at his foreleg intently. The image from his dream came back to him of Momma’s leg sticking out of the monster’s mouth. His throat constricted, and his breath came fast. He closed his eyes, but the image refused to go away. The monster swallowed, and the leg slid inside. It didn’t happen! It was just a dream! he told himself, burying his face in Zecora’s side. Tears welled up from his eyes. Don't cry! It wasn’t real! The words did nothing to stop his heartbreak, and he wept like he hadn’t since the day Momma didn't come back, the day when he had come home alone. Strong limbs enfolded him. “My poor little Shad, what makes you so sad?” asked Zecora. He didn’t want her to feel bad, but the emotions just seemed to come at him with such force, and the thoughts that came with them... they made him feel as if he would burst if he kept them inside. “I... I saw Momma in a dream last night.” His voice caught in his throat. Zecora’s hoof stroked his back. It felt so good and brought back memories of Momma, but at the same time it made him feel as if there was a huge hole inside him. The shaking and the tears wouldn’t stop. “A monster... a monster ate her!” His heart was tearing in two. For some reason it was becoming hard to breathe. When he tried to talk, all that came out were choking noises. It was several minutes before he could gather enough breath to say a few words. “Momma’s been gone so long. She's not coming back... is she?” He looked up into Zecora's face and saw more sadness there than he had ever seen in Momma's face. He waited long moments while his heart pounded. She shook her head. Something broke inside of him and everything went away, except for the burning emptiness in his heart. Zecora held the foal tightly, rocking him in her embrace. You could have lied, she told herself in her innermost voice, that which predated her training in the healing arts and her adoption of the rhyming lilt of the shaman. You could have told him his mother might come back! Tears dropped from her muzzle and onto Shad’s. As a filly she had vowed to always tell the truth, no matter the circumstances. The perfidy of those who used honeyed words to excuse the actions of powerful zebras, their friends or themselves was one of the reasons she had left her village. The thought brought back with it bitter memories. One of the village elders came to her parents' hut. It was an old stallion who had insisted she call him mjomba Sefu, even though he was not a relative. She didn't like him or the way he smiled at her. He wasn't smiling today. "Call your mother and sister, child!" commanded the old zebra from the doorway. Zecora nodded and galloped off, wondering why he had not bothered to find them himself. The village was hardly big enough to make such a task difficult. It took her less than a minute to locate both her mother and sister, who with several of the neighboring mares were grinding maize into mealie-meal. Her mother looked up as she approached. "Mama, mjomba Sefu says you and Zuri must come to the hut," said Zecora. A troubled look crossed her mother's face as she put down her grinding stick. She motioned her younger sister to follow and the three mares trotted back home. "What does mjomba Sefu want?" prodded Zuri as she bounced around them with the energy of the very young. "I don't know, dada kidogo," replied Zecora. A thought struck her. "Mama, do you think it's about Baba's trip to the big market at Farasi Ziwa?" Her mother tried to hide her worry behind a thin-lipped smile. "Patience, children! We'll find out soon enough." In truth, they were already at the hut's door. She followed her mother and sister inside. "Shikamoo," said her mother warily, "what brings you to our home?" Zecora knew that her mother didn't much like mjomba Sefu, and that she hid the feeling behind a very polite formality. The old zebra's frown did not lessen. He glanced quickly at Zecora and her sister, then shifted back to her mother. "Mpwa, I have news from the elders regarding your husband," he said. Zecora noticed her mother tense up, and began to feel uneasy herself. "And what is this news, Shikamoo?" her mother retorted. Mjomba Sefu grinned, although the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. "Your husband has failed to arrive at the market with the village's surplus maize. I'm sure he's just been delayed and will turn up soon." His grin widened. "With the maize, of course. Much of it was from my own clan's store, you know." Mother didn't answer. She nodded once, and stood aside from the doorway. The old stallion resumed his frown and left the hut. "Mama!" asked Zuri, her eyes wide, "is Baba safe?" Mama smiled as she sat down on her haunches and hugged us both. "Yes, I'm sure of it! Don't let that old worrywart scare you for nothing. I'm sure Baba will be back tomorrow, as he said he would." She rose to all fours. "Now, let's get back to work. The maize will not grind itself!" Zecora followed after her, only partly reassured. From the looks the other mares gave them it was clear that something serious was going on, but mother was unusually focused that day, so even though she heard the whispers, Zecora ignored them. That night at supper their mother was very quiet and sent them to bed early. The next morning they all rose as usual. Their mother saw them off to school. Just outside the hut, mjomba Sefu waited looking grimmer than ever. "Good morning, Shikamoo," said the mare as her foals looked on in silence. "Your husband and my maize are still missing," he said. "He will be back, with a profit for the village," she retorted cooly. His eyes narrowed. "It would be a burden for this family to have to pay me back for my loss," he said, then turned and trotted off. Zecora’s mother ignored the questions in her daughters’ eyes at this strange exchange and waved them on to school. After morning classes Zuri and Zecora were having lunch when Aisha, who really was mjomba Sefu's niece, approached their bench. "My mother says your family owes our family for the maize your father stole!" said Aisha, her muzzle held high. Zuri rose and Zecora could see the fury in her little sister’s eyes. She placed a hoof on her withers to keep her from doing something they would regret. Aisha's family were influential in the village, and it did not pay to openly engage in conflict with them. "Our father has never stolen anything," Zecora said calmly, "and the whole village knows it. That' s why they trusted him to sell their maize, and not some other zebra." Aisha remained undeterred. "He never showed up at the market yesterday. Mother says he must have sold our maize in another village and then went off with all the money!" It took both forehooves to hold onto Zuri. "You take that back!" she shouted, angrier than Zecora had ever seen her be. Aisha just turned on her hooves and sauntered off to another bench where her siblings and cousins  congregated, whispering and shooting dirty looks in their direction. Most of the other foals tried their best to ignore what was happening, which left the sisters feeling very isolated in the schoolyard. Things only got worse as the day wore on. Everywhere they went cold eyes followed after them. What made Zecora even more angry were those who simply turned their gaze away. School was almost over when Hilali, one of the young stallions currently doing service to the village council, came to fetch them. There was a look of triumph on Aisha’s face as they followed Hilali out. For her part, Zecora began to feel very anxious. She didn’t care what Aisha said or did. What came out of that awful filly’s mouth was like water off the back of a duck. What did bother her was the attitude of the stallion. He treated her and her sister in an almost deferential fashion, and that scared her. He led them to their hut. Inside, mjomba Sefu and two other town elders waited with their mother, her face very pale and fragile, and a strange zebra mare in a shaman’s cloak that she had never met before. With a trembling hoof her mother waved the girls to come sit with her on the earthen floor of the hut. “Now that everyzebra is here we can begin,” said the chief elder, a wizened old stallion named Abasi. He took a deep breath. “The elders of Farasi Ziwa have sent us word that a zebra has been taken by a pride of lions not far from their village.” The stranger stepped forward. “There wasn’t much left to identify the victim except some rings,” – she took some blood stained gold circlets from the bag – “and we have verified they bear your village’s markings.” Zecora turned her face towards her mother’s, and for the first time in her life witnessed true desolation. A hollow numbness spread through her entire being as her little sister whimpered. Mjomba Sefu broke the silence. “What about the maize? There should have been maize. Lions care nothing for maize!” he concluded emphatically. The strange zebra shrugged and looked apologetic. “At the site we found much blood and the golden rings.” She looked sadly at us. “Lions often... consume their victim a distance away from where they did the killing. And after they are sated from their gruesome fest, the jackals eat most of what the lions did not, scattering the rest. But the zebras who discovered the remains, said naught about finding maize or any other grains.” She looked at mother with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry that these are all we can provide for your remembrances.” She placed the rings back in the bag and lay it reverently before Mama. “For your tragic loss, please accept our village’s condolences.” It was only then that Zecora noticed that her mother had been quietly weeping all this time. Looking down she was surprised to see the tracks of tears down the fur of her own chest. An angry exclamation from Mjomba Sefu tore her gaze from her coat. “He must have sold the maize and hidden the bits he was paid! There is no other explanation possible!” Jaws in the hut dropped as everyzebra looked at the elder in horror. Zecora felt a growl grow in her throat, but was silenced as her mother rose and pulled the sisters behind her. “Get out!” she said, her eyes shooting daggers at mjomba Sefu. “You will not disparage his memory in this house! Get out!” she moved as if to physically push the elder away, something Zecora could never have imagined her very correct and polite mother doing. Mjomba Sefu was about to reply when the other elders stepped between him and the grieving mare. “Our apologies, mpwa. We shall leave now. Please also accept our regrets at your husband’s passing.” They turned and proceeded out the door, leaving no choice for mjomba Sefu but to exit before them. The shaman looked very embarrassed at having witnessed the scene. “With a missing family member, it must have been a fearsome night, to hear the news that we told Shikamoo Sefu yesterday about finding the gruesome site. I... I just want you to know, that I wish it were not so.” Zecora’s mother picked up the bag of rings, and clutched it to her breast as tears fell from her muzzle. It was as if she had not heard what the shaman had said. Her elder daughter had, on the other hoof, and was too angry to see anything but black. “What!?” she shouted. “The elders knew of this yesterday?” The shaman nodded in wide eyed surprise. She stepped back in alarm as Zecora rushed past her and out of the hut. Outside, the elders stood in a triangle, engaged in a heated debate. A proper young zebra would never interrupt her elders in discussion, but at that moment Zecora had already begun leaving proper behavior behind. “You liar!” she shouted, and pointed a hoof at mjomba Sefu. “You knew about this yesterday and didn’t tell us!” She spat in his direction. “You spent the day telling lies about my father, when you already knew he was dead!” Mjomba Sefu looked at her down his grizzled muzzle. “Why ever would I do such a thing, impertinent child?” he retorted. “To try to get back the money you lost from the maize at my mother’s expense! You are a liar and a thief!” The old stallion growled and raised a hoof as if he was about to strike the filly when the elders once again stood between them. One forcibly led mjomba Sefu away, even as he protested. The other stared the filly down coldly. “Do you defend him?” asked Zecora. “He lied to us! He lied to every zebra in the village! The shaman told us that they told mjomba Sefu yesterday!” – she spat on the ground again – “yesterday of finding my father’s remains.” The elder’s expression only grew darker. “What he did was wrong, child. But it is not your place to insult your elders. To do so would bring shame upon all the zebras of this village, do you hear?” He paused as he thought for a moment. “What you will do, young mare, is publicly apologize to Shikamoo Sefu for making such wild accusations and beg his forgiveness.” Zecora stared at him in disbelief. Several other villagers had stopped to look at the scene. Seeing their angry looks only steeled her resolve. “I swear it now, in front of you and all these zebras, I will not lie! Not for you, not for the sake of crooked elders, not even for my own sake! On my father’s grave, I will not be like that old snake Sefu!” She turned on the elder, and stomped back to her hut. That same day she left the village for good. Zecora looked down at Shad as he sobbed. She had sworn to herself that she would never use lies to ease her passage or that of another through this life. Never had her vow caused her so much pain. But if you had lied to him, he would never want to leave this place, and you know that he must! He cannot stay here, alone in the Everfree. You had to tell him the truth. The only way his mother would not have come back to him was if she could not, and in this forest that can only mean one thing! She knew she was right, but the knowledge didn’t lessen the pain. So she wept with him, until at some point his muzzle dropped down as if it had become too heavy to hold up any longer. A few minutes later she felt the weight of his head on her foreleg. When his shuddering sobs stopped she knew he had finally fallen back asleep. Her own heart heavy, it took her a while before she could join the lad in the sleeplands.