Outland

by Dafaddah

Truth And Consequences

A small movement between her forelegs gently prodded Zecora awake. Shad. She looked down at the small brown foal curled up in her embrace. He twitched slightly.

She could hear the foal breathing slowly and regularly, his breath deepening as time passed. For long minutes she could hardly shift her gaze away from the sleeping form. Each inspiration, each expiration, was a small victory. Every movement of his tiny barrel an easing of the knot in her heart.

Finally, the demands of her body became pressing. Deciding that Shad was unlikely to wake anytime soon, she carefully – and to her own surprise, reluctantly – disengaged herself from his supine body, and stepped away from the sleeping nest.

A few minutes later and her immediate necessities taken care of, Zecora's practical nature asserted itself and she set about making herself useful to her little savior and to her temporary home.

She was becoming accustomed to the cave and had memorized its layout, including all of its hazards to head and hoof. On a rock shelf she had found several bowls made of dried gourds. Using one she fetched some fresh water for Shad. She even risked a short foray outside the cave entrance to gather grasses and other edible forage that grew in the vicinity. She also collected dried branches for the guard fire at night.

Zecora worked mostly by using her sense of smell, as her eyesight was only slowly recovering. She could now make out shapes as small as the size of her hoof when seen at leg’s length, making it easier to keep an eye on the tiny foal in the sleeping nest. Still, every few minutes she came near to verify if he was resting well.

She was mostly pleased with Shad’s progress in the physical sense. Though he slept all day, at least his fever seemed to have broken. In her saddlebags she had found a salve that reduced the angry swelling on his flank. She hoped it would prevent the area from scarring.

I can heal flesh, bone and fur that's rent, but what that foal’s lost has no replacement.

She crept back to the nest and lay down next to the foal. He muttered in his sleep, shifting closer to her body. She smiled.

Ever since she had been a foal herself Zecora had desired nothing more than to leave her village’s stifling web of family and clan expectations, along with the boredom of endless days each one indistinguishable from the one just past. She often told herself, and anyzebra who would listen, that the life of village mare, settled down with mate and foals, was not in her stars, and that there was a whole world waiting out there for her to discover.

And then on that fateful day, she left the village and sought out the shaman to pursue a new life. Afterwards, there were many in her village who resented her departure and to this day refused to answer her letters. A few years later, her training now complete, she again set out into the world, her destination this time the exotic land of Equestria and the thrillingly chaotic wilderness called the Everfree.

Looking down at the foal’s blurry form, so tiny next to her, she felt the stirring of feelings she had thought absent from her vagabond heart. Something had changed within her since she befriended Twilight Sparkle and her many friends in Ponyville. The company of others had ceased to be an anchor that weighed her down. The good folks of Ponyville now came to her and very much treated her as part of their community. She also had to admit that Apple Bloom’s visits to her cottage, and the filly’s alchemical pursuits, had somehow become major highlights of her days.

Do not lie to yourself, Zebrabwe mare. You are no longer the recluse you once were.

She muzzled Shad’s wild mane. Never before she would have imagined that it might feel so good to watch over a little one. The irony of it drew a wry smile on her lips.

Those village Zebras would certainly laugh and jape, that you traveled so far only to find what you had thought to escape!

She was still smiling when Shad awoke.

“You’ve been travelling for many, many hours in the dream country. Such a long trek surely makes a young stallion very hungry!”

The youngster’s head rose towards her. At first he said nothing. His nose twitched and he dipped his muzzle into the bowl of water she had set on the floor next to him. Finally, she saw the whites of his eyes as he looked up at her. She pushed another bowl closer to the nest, this one full of fresh greens.

The foal looked at it for a moment, then lowered his muzzle into it. Munching sounds filled the quiet cave as the foal broke his fast. His ears suddenly shot up and he lifted his mouth out of the bowl.

“Good morning to you, Zecora.” As always, he spoke just loud enough to be heard. A glint of white betrayed a shy smile on his muzzle, one that was visible despite her still limited vision.

Zecora laughed. “The morn is long fled, and it’s time you were out of bed!” She lent a hoof and helped the foal shakily rise.

Up close she could finally see his face in detail. Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed the thin, haggard planes of his muzzle and the deep hollows beneath his eyes. She shuddered to think how the fever has nearly done him in. Shad stumbled as he moved onto his injured foreleg.

“Easy now, lad, just take it step-by-step. I’m sure that soon enough you’ll recover your old pep.”

He stopped. Wide eyes looked up into her face. His ears rose as he tilted his head. “When you talk you make the endings sound the same. Why?”

Zecora's eyebrows rose and she settled onto her haunches. “Amongst those of Zebra-kind, it is the mark of the shaman to speak in rhyme.”

“Rhyme?” asked the colt. “Is that what it’s called?”

She nodded.

His grin grew wider. “It sounds pretty. Is it easy?”

Zecora chuffed in delight, and gave the colt a brief hug. Her grin faltered as she felt his bones through his pelt. She made sure to recompose her expression before pulling away.

“It forces one to think before one speaks, a wise practice that more should seek!”

His gaze fell inward for a moment. “Do you have to talk that way? Momma didn’t.”

Zecora's drooped slightly. Idiot! she thought to herself. This foal needs something other than a shaman! She adopted a wry grin. “Like any habit that you can adopt, the longer you do it the harder it becomes to stop.”

When his own expression didn't change she grew more serious. Answer the question behind the words, Zecora. She took a deep breath.

“For family, and with those who are close to our hearts, shamans don’t have to speak in rhymes.”

Shad’s brow furrowed for a moment, then a brilliant smile split his muzzle. The sight made her heart beat faster.

He nodded once and murmured. “I’m glad.” Emotion washed over Zecora as Shad nuzzled her leg. Some things you cannot take back, she told herself. She suddenly realized that deep within she had made a choice, and Zecora was not one to second guess herself. She leaned closer to the foal and nuzzled him back. This is the right choice!

They spoke no words. None were needed. An instant and an eternity later, he let go. She stepped back, making room for Shad to leave the sleeping nest.

He trembled as he climbed out, taking first one halting step and then another. She followed at his side as he slowly moved towards the back of the cave. He had only progressed a short distance when, all of a sudden, he halted in his tracks. He convulsed once and then, falling to his foreknees, vomited his recent breakfast onto the rocky floor.

Alarmed, Zecora rushed to pick up the foal in her forelegs. He continued to dry heave as she hugged him to her barrel and rushed him back to the sleeping nest, where she deposited him gently.

She noticed she was breathing fast. Calm yourself, shaman, and use your brain! She forced herself to control her breathing in an attempt to still her mind.

She felt for his pulse. “Poor Shad! Tell me, does your stomach hurt?”

Still looking queasy, he nodded. Zecora raised his muzzle in a hoof and felt another tremor shake his little body. She licked the tip of his nose. His temperature had begun to rise again.

This is not good! What else?

“Do you have a headache?”

His chin dropped in a curt nod. She felt a cold spot form in her own stomach. Thinking furiously, she reached over for the bowl of water and brought it to his lips. He drank a few mouthfuls and then raised his muzzle from the bowl.

Thank the spirits, it's not hydrophobia! She returned the bowl to its former position.

She had reduced the options down to a single likely diagnosis. She felt a tremor in her own legs as she held the foal close to her.

There’s only one thing you can do if this is what you think it is.

“I... I’m so tired.” whispered Shad, barely audible above her own frenzied heartbeat. Her doubts evaporated. She swallowed. There’s one cure you know for blood poisoning, and you have driven its source away.

She looked down at Shad. You do not know how much, or how little, time is left. If you go, you must go now!

Deciding to leave the colt’s side was harder than she could have ever imagined it would be. With a pang of anguish, Zecora let go of the small trembling body, and rose.

“No... don’t...” He extended a tiny hoof towards her.

A sob wrack her barrel. She leaned over and planted a gentle kiss between his twitching ears.

“I will be back soon, my little Shad, I promise. There is yet one more thing I need to get from the Everfree to save you. Be patient, and be strong, just as I know you can be, my little hero! Do you hear me, lad? Be strong!”

His eyes had closed. He did not respond. Zecora wiped a fetlock over her eyes.

These traitorous, feeble, eyes! she thought bitterly.

With one last blurred look at the ailing colt, Zecora turned tail, and galloped out of the cave, grabbing her saddlebags with her mouth on the way.