Zecora and Stripe Strider both simultaneously broke through the flap of the large tent. It had been a long day of work and learning that left them both exhausted, but at least it was over. Stripe Strider lived with their mentor, Zalika, so he only really walked Zecora home because he was bored, or so he claimed. He always talked about how there was nothing to do in the shamans tent which Zecora could believe.
All Zalika really had for entertainment was text books and scrolls about life and anatomy. She believed that games and toys were pointless for they accomplished nothing. Zecora’s mom, Golden Lace thought that her spending countless hours under Zalika’s teaching would better her off, but it was one of the dullest things in her life. She had almost felt bad for Strider after she had heard the countless stories about being splashed with water before sunrise so he may clean, or gather herbs from difficult locations. The herbs their mentor used for healing came in vast variety, this being the case, the shop keepers more, more commonly then not did not have any in stock. Strider really was obnoxious most days, but Zecora didn’t really blame him.
Zecora, of course, lived with her parents, Shadow Streak and Golden Lace. Her father was always busy foraging and guarding the boarders of the village. Sometimes he would travel far out for reasons she never really knew and never talked of his voyages. Her mother was always at home preparing meals for cleaning. She was hardworking and a very light coated mare with the most gorgeous features, although she had lately been very tired and weak for reasons Zecora did not know. Sometimes she got an odd worried feeling but keep it to herself. Overall the little filly’s home was peaceful and often lonely.
Her living in a separate home from her mentor did not prevent her from spending many nights at Zalika’s over intense learning sessions. It was very challenging and she quickly became exhausted, leaving Zecora in wonder about how Stripe Strider must feel, having to deal with it every morning and night of his life. She had never really known what had happened to Strider's parents though she had wanted to ask on many occasions but felt that it might bring him pain.
The two neared the main path that linked all of the other branching trails of the village together. They took a left on the large road and continued trotting up the direction of the trading posts. The shadows of the buildings and huts shrouded over them and the sky was a deep orange. The sun was nearing the edge of the grassy horizon and the wind was gently flowing with quiet, warm air. It was fairly uneventful and simplistic. The foal peered to the setting sun, admiring how the rays of light had shown through the patchy clouds in the distance upon the wet marshes south from their settlement. Zecora could see the silhouettes of a wake of vultures circling above the scenery. “Hey Stipe Strider,” Zecora finally spoke. “Hm?” Strider responded distantly, distracted on an annoying fly whom seemed to be not leaving him alone. “Do you ever wonder what’s beyond our village?”
“Not really… I mostly think it’s just wildlife and more savannas.”
Zecora and Strider continued on the path, deep in thought about the question. Many Stories were told to them when they were much younger, of great beasts and monsters that lived beyond civilization. In those stories, a noble hero would venture out, seeing to slay the monster for fame and glory to gain riches and popularity. The beasts were hostile and bore great powers, giving the hero seemingly impossible challenges, but they always seemed to prevail. If such stories were true, Zecora feared what she might find. “What of ponies?” the foal wondered “Ponies?” Strider scoffed “You mean the people Zalika mentioned?”
“Yeah.”
Stripe Strider shrugged and tilted his head excepting the possibility. Their mentor had mentioned the culture very briefly and it had been many, many moons since. He now chuckled at that day were he learned his mentors limits.
“I would not dwell on what Zalika said. I find it hard to believe, personally, and it’s not like we see any ponies around. They either don’t exist or their just too far away to meet.”
What Strider said had a good point to it. Their village would get travelers from faraway lands but all seemed to be zebras. There was the occasional exception like gazelle, or sometimes antelope but they were not as common. Generally most other races were not as smart or advanced as zebras so they often didn’t live alongside one and other.
“Just think, a whole land of magic! Would something like that be worth passing up?”
“I would believe it, but there is a point where things are great and possible and there’s another where things are completely ridicules.”
Zecora felt that Strider was looking on the gloomy side of things. He often took things too seriously when he should be looser and was too loose when he should be taking things seriously. That didn’t really bother her too much for such a thing as magical people seemed pretty far out. She had only ever experience magic in small doses and couldn’t imagine much more.
The two young zebras had reached the next turn on the right, veering off the main path, just before reaching the trading post. They were coming close to Zecora’s small hut on the outskirts of the village and their walk was almost over. It was a longer ways out from Zalika’s than most of their walks for they lived on opposite sides of the settlement, but it still seemed fairly short. Part of her wished she had more free time to talk to Stripe Strider about some of her many wonders but, she accepted the fact that such things were a lesser priority.
As the two trotted easily down the dirt path, Zecora felt a sudden interruption of dizziness and she slammed right into a towering figure, falling backwards to the ground. The dizziness subside quickly and she curiously peered up at the thing which stood in her way. Her heart rate increased as she found a zebra peering down at her. He was cloaked with a worn cowl that shaded his body underneath. Zecora could make out black plated armor strapped on his chest. She saw little of his face for a mask covered is upper half of his head. Just of his mask, near his cheekbone were intricate tattoo patterns that spiked down across the bridge of his snout, over his chin and lead to his collar bone. He curiously had no stripes but was undoubtedly a zebra. His mask seemed to be a skull of a creature she could not recognize. It seemed to comfortably fit over his head and had large teeth that lined the under edge, with the eye sockets placed on the sides so he could see, though his eyes were shrouded.
“S….sorry.” The foal hesitantly replied. She found it hard to speak at the intimidating stallion. Even through all of her fear, she was most of all curiously and drawn to him. Stripe Strider eyed him fearfully, unsure about how to react to the zebra before them.
“No need to apologize, child,” He spoke in a supernaturally deep voice. Something about him held Zecora’s attention. He felt dark and unpredictable. He chuckled, almost unnoticeably.
“Some things are inevitable.” He trotted off as if nothing had happened and Zecora snapped out of her entrancing feeling after he was completely out of sight.
“Do I… Know him?” she thoughtfully questioned.
“I hope not.” Strider replied “Come on, your house is close by.”
. . .
By the time Zecora made it to her hut, the sun was gone past the horizon and the colors of the clouds were less vibrant, appearing as purples and violets. The foal wished she could talk to Stripe Strider more for she had been enjoying the walk with him though, she was pretty tired so finally arriving home was a relief to her. Zecora said good bye to Strider and he continued back to Zalika’s, only alone this time. She had felt pity for him, wishing he had someone to walk with even though it was probably unnecessary.
She managed to push it aside and entered her hut. When she came to the other side of the cross stitched entrance flap, she found no candles lit and everything quiet. After being at Zalika’s for the past couple of days, the smell and look of her home was very welcoming and all she wanted to do was sleep. The young zebra lived in a two room hut. The first was the room she had entered. The ground of the room was dirt and there were pelts of various creatures her father had brought home. Her favorite (and the largest of the pelts) was the one of the most ferocious beast she knew of the wilds, the great Saber Toothed Smilodon . She had heard the story of when her father had been preyed on by the beast and the massive slash it made across the underside of his body. He had been miles away from the nearest village and had to burn the fuse the wound shut with his steel spear head a camp fire so he would not bleed out. She wished she could hear more of his adventures, for they seemed exciting but he was almost always quite.
The second room was in the left corner of the one she was in. It had a cloth of a similar pattern to the one on the main entrance. It hid their sleeping quarters. Zecora quietly made her way to the opening and slid into the room. It was quite small, just big enough to hold three people. The beds weren’t much of a bed as they were composed of a wool cloth and a blanket. The young zebra wad often wondered what it was like to sleep in a real bed for she had never experienced it, but she didn’t much care too any way.
Zecora saw her mom, covered under the thin blanket, sound asleep with a small candle lit on the small shelf in the corner. Her mother’s weakness had not much increased since it first began, but Golden Lace constantly seemed tired and had a slight fever. She had not yet mentioned it to her mentor Zalika because it seemed fairly minor and sometimes the best remedy is rest. Her father had been gone for the past week or so and wasn’t aware yet either. Zecora still found it quite minor and didn’t worry… too much.
The foal found the bedding nearest to her mother and flopped down with exhaustion. She stared at her mother’s sleeping body, noticing their size differences. She was almost as tall but not quite. She had a bit of grown to go and it would still be a long time. ‘Some day’ she thought, and drooped into deep, deep sleep.
. . .
Stripe Strider casually trotted down the same path he had once walked already. He followed his previous footsteps backwards from their trail, finding simple amusement out of his quiet walk home. As the sun reached past the horizon, the village turned a shade of gray in the hour of twilight, ever so slightly drowning all of the various colors of the village. It was an hour that Stripe Strider wasn’t much fond of, for it symbolized the waning of the day and reminded him of his uneventful life in the village. It was that time of the day were on confidently pushed their planned duties to the next day but ultimately did not happen and would continue to repeat until it was not a choice. Twilight hour was just a disappointment.
As the colt continued to trot along, he thought about what Zecora had mentioned earlier about beyond the village. The wilds were very unforgiving and much different from the village life, but it held more eventful days and invigorating survival. The more Strider though about it, the more he realized his envy of the life style. Zecora may have seen fearfully and thought it unusual but Stripe Strider saw it as opportunity to escape his life.
Strider reached the end of the path and took a left onto the main trail. Not long after, he reached the next turn, taking a right and found himself at Zalika’s large tent. By the time he arrived at the tent the sun light had waned down completely and it was dark. He pushed the cloth aside and emerged into the main room. All of the candles were still lit and he saw Zalika reading a large book intently behind the main counter in front of him. To his left there were shelves of jars, candles, bandages, cloth, and other types of miscellaneous items. To his right were books and scrolls. At first glance, one would assume it to be a shop with precisely arranged sections and isles. Directly down the walkway at the back of the store, was the counter were Zalika sat and conversed with patients or customers. This was where the mare sat now. Behind her were more shelves with a couple of books and scrolls but mostly jars full of premixed potions and ingredients in astounding variety.
“I see you have walked Zecora home?” Zalika mumbled, never taking her eyes or attention from her script, not giving the colt much acknowledgement. He figured she was too distracted to notice any answer so he didn’t bother.
The young apprentice trotted up to the front counter to peer at what the shaman was reading. The words were small and there must have been thousands of sentences on one page.
“Fascinating isn’t it!?” His mentor asked noticing the colt’s interest.
“Hmm… I don’t see why you like this stuff.”
Zalika skeptically eyed the colt who was still amazed by the extent of the book to see here expression.
“Have you ever tried reading one?”
“pfft- yeah!”
“Oh reeaally…” She prodded
“Totally… but I fell asleep halfway through the title.”
Zalika chuckled and continued on “And what was the title?”
“Cultural differentialities of intellectually advanced quadropedic societies” He said smugly
Zalika was honestly amazed that Stripe Strider was able to actually fluently pronounce those words from simply reading them. “hahahaha…. Did you even read the pages of the book at all?”
“Well of course! Don’t judge a book by its cover, Duh!”
The more the colt continued on, the more amusement Zalika found. “I thought you said you couldn’t even read past the title?”
“It’s an expression.”
“What do you know about an expression?” She continued, with that heavy savannin accent to top off her mocking attitude.
“You own a book on Advanced Psychological communication Through Verbal Display, man… I thought you were the one that was supposed to be doing all the teaching here!” Zalika could barely believe what she was hearing from the child’s mouth. Her expression was full of shock and amazement. After a couple of moments of eye contact they both busted into laughing. The room was full of happiness and friendship as the shaman and here apprentice shared their time together. It was quiet once more and the laughter subsided. Zalika seemed to space off for a moment with a loving smile on her face. She peered over at Strider who was curiously examining her.
“Strider,” she spoke lovingly, “You remind me so much of your father…” Stripe Strider's heart dropped at the mention. The feeling of others taking pity on him dwelled inside and small memories of his father flashed in his mind. Who was his father? He barely knew himself, yet, he held so dear to the colt’s heart.
“Your father was a great stallion,” She continued “He was one of my closest companions. I remember being young in the village and growing alongside him. I remember the day he held you for the first time and the stallion seemed truly complete.”
Strider felt pain in his chest and he held back tears that wanted to escape. He remembered the days his father would walk him around the village to run errands and how his father always seemed so happy with him.
“I watched you and him play together, a bond so special.”
Stripe Strider never remembered his mother, in fact, to his knowledge, she was never even there, though Zalika was always next to his father in his distant memories. She taught him all his life, from birth, and was the closest thing to a motherly figure he ever had.
Moments passed as a tear ran down Stripe Strider's eye. The candles continued to flicker until Zalika spoke once more. He noticed here holding back tears of grief, "I'm sorry... I should have given this to you much sooner, I just couldn't get myself to do it." She reached underneath the counter and rose her head once more with a wooden box just big enough to fit in her muzzle. She gently set it upon the counter for him to clearly see. "This was his... he wanted you to have it."
A long period passed of silence as the colt simply stared at the box. He found more fear than curiosity, what if all he found was something useless, what if all his father ever left him was some pointless item. His thoughts were confused and fearful but eventually came to the conclusion. It didn’t matter what it was, it came from his father and he would cherish it either way.
The container was small and made of a slight orange wood, Strider defiantly recognized it as Acacia, a hard wood and more difficult to accurately carve. That being the case, items made of it were generally more expensive. Upon it were engravings of knot patterns that weaved in between each other featuring beautiful designs. Holding it all together was a shiny lock and hinges made of gold, to keep shut and together.
Yet another tear rolled down across Strider's cheek and he managed to bring himself to reach for the box with one hoof as he wiped his eyes with the other. He hesitantly stopped before placing it upon the item thinking if he really wanted to find out what was inside. He forced himself to continue, sliding it towards himself. Another minute of silence passed and Zalika intently watched him, understanding his fearful approach.
The young zebra finally let his mind go and flipped the lock up. He peered inside the fancy container and shut it quickly. More tears poured from his eyes and his emotions were too strong for him to continue to star at the gift. He needed some time alone to think, think of the long ago times with his father. “I need some rest,” He whispered through the quiet room, in an effort to keep his voice from cracking up. In the two back corners of the shop was a path leading to another room. The one on the back left led to the shaman’s sleeping room and the one on the left led to the brewing room, also were Stripe Strider spent his nights on the ground.
He hopped off his chair, snatching the box in his mouth along the way and quickly made his way to the entrance of the brewing room. I flipped the hanging cloth to the side and submerged through the doorway, leaving Zalika’s sight. The mentor sat alone once more. She peered down to her script to continue her reading only to see the letters splattered and smeared. More drops pelted the pages and made the sentences unreadable.
. . .
Stripe Strider entered the room and found it very dim. The room was square and decently small, having shelves of pots and pans stuffed in and shoved to the side to clear enough space for the colt to comfortably sleep on. In the clearance of the floor, a thin hoof stitched blanket was neatly folded and set down so it would be ready to use for when he wanted to lay down. It was made of reds and browns that were very unnoticeable from the dark.
The zebra trotted over to it and flopped onto the dirt floor, gently setting the box next to him. He sat and cried for what seemed like hours, doing nothing but looking at the bare wall. He eventually looked upon the container, wanting to look at its containments once more. The zebra flipped the switch with his snout and lifted it open. He grabbed the fine, woven sting and rested the amulet upon his hoof to admire its beauty. The amulet was a square shape, with four fangs neatly knotted together. The top and the bottom bones curved upward like an ark but the sides curved to the right, all held together at each corner with a woven string. They were not just any fangs, they were ivory. The details were pristine, like nothing the colt had seen before. It had small patterns of flowers and vines carved into it, some spacing and lining no bigger than a hair that would have been impossible to do by hoof. Strider had seen his mentor use such amulets on patients that were very rough and quickly worked together for a ward, but nothing like what was before him now. He had simply never laid his eyes upon something so gorgeous in his life.
Stripe Strider pulled the blanket with his muzzle gently, causing a large thick book to slide out with a thump. It was titled “Cultural differentialities of intellectually advanced quadropedic societies”. The young zebra flipped the book open to chapter three, “Variety and Physique”