To Catch Up With the Sun
The timberwolf spied its prey in complete silence.
"Come on, Apple Bloom! Hurry up!" the white one cried.
"Ah’m coming! Hold yer horses!"
The wooden skeleton of the creature lay motionless on the forest floor. Its features blended in among the exposed roots of a nearby tree. The wolf aided its concealment by using the shadows under the thick canopy, and only exposed its head to one of the few tiny patches of sunlight that managed to break through. This prevented its glowing pair of eyes from standing out in the darkness. The light was a minor distraction its vision, and all of its other senses were just as capable of tracking the targets on their own.
"Move it, you two! I'm not gonna wait all day!" the orange one called out.
"Well, nopony told you to rush ahead, Scootaloo!" the white one replied.
"Yeah! At least Sweetie Belle stopped to help me outta' that ditch!" the third added.
It sensed that the trio of small, noisy, four-legged creatures were drawing closer, and the pace of their approach told it that their path would narrowly avoid its position. It was a minor concern.
"You sure this is the right way, Scootaloo? It doesn't usually take this long to get there," the white one's voice came again.
"I'm positive, girls! Never doubt my awesomeness!"
"Ugh... are ya gonna to start acting like Rainbow Dash now, too? Besides, Ah don't think we've ever come this way before."
The wolf wanted to be cautious. Although the prey was small, and most likely would not be much of a challenge, it never encountered such creatures in the forest before and had no idea what to expect of them. Stealth would thus be its greatest ally, which gave it a chance to end the fight quickly and without any complications.
"Wait... you mean to tell me you've led us off the normal path?"
It was the white one's voice, and the wolf assumed it was directed at the orange one once more.
"Yeah, I did. So what? I figured we could try something more exciting this time."
Taking care to avoid the crunchy forest floor, it leaped silently between trees, rocks, and empty patches of ground. It opened its eyes only for a split second each time to get its bearings, but otherwise kept them firmly shut to hide their glow. It had no further use for its eyesight until the very last moment. The scent and noise of its prey was more than enough to keep track of them.
"Great... if we get our cloaks torn up, you're the one explaining it to my sister!"
"Our cloaks? What about running into a cockatrice?" the cream-colored one joined in again. "Or whatever else there may be hidin' in the forest?"
The wolf could not understand what they were communicating between each other, but the tone and the rhythm of their calls betrayed no sign of alarm. Their movement seemed to be calm and careless as well. No attempt was made to conceal their passage. They did not suspect any kind of threat.
It would prove to be a fatal mistake.
"Will you two quit whining already? I know where we're going!"
"Psst! Sweetie Belle! You sure you want to trust a chicken to lead us?"
"Heh heh! Scoot-Scootalooooooo!"
"Oh, har har! Very funny, you two!"
Close enough. The timberwolf was moving its limbs inches at a time now as it crept toward the noisy trio. The three suddenly halted in their trek through the unlit woods. They formed a rough triangle in the center of a small clearing, and their calls began to gain intensity. All the better for the predator, as the added noise would aid its silent approach.
"Face it, you're just a silly chicken who's lost in the Everfree Forest!" the one with the red mane said.
"And we're the brave Crusaders who had to come looking for you!" the horned one added.
"I. Am. Not. A. CHICKEN! And I'm not lost! I ain't scared either, unlike you two pansies!"
"Yeah, sure you— hey!"
The wolf paused in its advance, confused. One of the creatures bolted all of a sudden, while the other two called after it.
"Scootaloo! Wait up! Where are you going?"
"Don't ya leave us behind again!"
"Ha! Scared to be left without me?"
Moments later, the one that ran off stopped again and turned back around. The other two went on with their racket. The timberwolf huffed and decided that it was time to act. Its prey was at its weakest now, too busy playing around to suspect anything until it was too late.
It crouched low behind a bush at the edge of the clearing. Its joints tensed up like compressed springs, waiting for the moment to propel the wooden creature into its lethal advance. It took a deep breath and opened its eyes fully, fixing them on the three small beings ahead.
The sound of a twig snapping rang out from behind. The wolf froze in mid-lunge. As quickly as it could without making any noise, it turned its head toward the direction of the sound, where it noticed another four-legged creature trotting calmly along a different path a few dozen trees away.
The timberwolf narrowed its eyes as it scanned the intruder. Its body was similar to the three it was hunting, though it was much larger and sported a different hide. There appeared to be a second layer of loose, dark-brown fur that covered it from head to tail, which veiled its face from view.
Despite its surprise, the hunter saw no further reason to pay attention. Though it was unnerved by how close the intruder managed to get without being noticed, it was too far away to be a threat, did not seem to be aware of either predator or prey, and its path was leading it directly away from the clearing. The wolf ground its teeth together, a bit more anxious now, and turned back around. The other three still stood there, oblivious.
No more distractions. It was time to act. It opened its jaw once more and bared its sharp fangs that were aching from the anticipation of soft flesh rubbing against them. It took another deep breath.
Another snap came, this time directly behind it. The timberwolf's heart skipped a beat. Its eyes grew huge as it spun around to stare at the strange figure, which now stood directly behind it. Its surprise left it stunned for entire seconds, long enough for the creature to raise one of its forelegs before its face. There was something at the tip of the appendage that reflected the few penetrating rays of sunlight with a gentle red sparkle.
The wolf let out a deep growl and lowered itself into a fighting stance. Its opponent did not move. Unwilling to let it keep the initiative, the wooden creature lunged forward.
The next moment, its vision was enveloped by an angry red haze.
-----
An otherworldly roar passed through the forest. The three fillies completely forgot about their argument. They screamed like newborn foals as they quickly huddled together.
"What was that?" Sweetie Belle cried out.
"Ah don't know!" Apple Bloom replied, her eyes darting back and forth.
The bushes to the left of their path shook violently. They shrieked again and jumped away as one in the opposite direction.
"No..." Scootaloo whimpered and hugged the other two closer. "No! Please don't let it be!" She gulped.
"What?" Sweetie Belle whispered. She was on the verge of tears. "Don't let it be... what?"
"A... a... manticore..." the orange filly replied. Her voice was shaking. "Or... or maybe a... timber—"
Another loud roar came, this one preceded by a bright flash directly above them. They froze all of a sudden and raised their heads to look up at a small gap in the canopy. Through the gap they could see a steadily approaching tide of dark clouds, small flashes of light winking in and out across its surface. A soft breeze rustled the foliage around them again.
The three fillies slowly let out a breath they've been unconsciously holding. They looked back down at each other and giggled.
"Whew!" Apple Bloom said with a sigh of relief, "For a moment there, Ah thought—"
The bushes to their left exploded in a shower of leaves, twigs, and dirt. A large, brown, skeletal creature leapt forth into the clearing, missing the stunned trio by mere inches. It ran past them and skidded to a halt a few paces away, where it began thrashing around furiously. It tossed its head left and right, then ground it against the dirt while gripping it with its paws. It growled and whined non-stop, then suddenly threw its head back to let out a long howl of agony. With its face now in full view, the fillies noticed faint traces of red powder coating it.
After a few more seconds of frantic struggling, the wolf lunged back into the thick of the forest and finally disappeared from sight, though they could still faintly hear all the noise it made as it tore through the undergrowth while howling in pain.
The three fillies looked on, completely dumbfounded.
"Uhh..." Sweetie Belle began. "What... just happened?"
"I don't— shhhh!" Scootaloo hissed. More noise came from behind them. The sound of the forest floor crunching. Hoofsteps. Branches being softly brushed aside.
"Hey, look!" Apple Bloom cried as she thrust out her hoof. "Over there!"
She pointed toward the path on the other end of the clearing, and they watched, mouths agape, as a familiar figure slowly emerged from behind the trees.
"Is that...?" Scootaloo joined in. Her eyes widened. "Girls, it's Zecora!"
"Zecora!" Sweetie Belle called out. "Oh, are we glad to see you!"
The zebra mare approached from the direction opposite the one they came along the path with her usual calm pace, her "trademark" brown cloak draped over her back and head.
"Valiant Crusaders, so nice to see you too!" she said. "But why are you here now, with a storm passing through?"
"Uhh... we were just..." Sweetie Belle began.
"You see... we, uh..." Apple Bloom tried.
"Just... uh... hiking!" Scootaloo exclaimed all of a sudden. She gave an awkward grin and nudged the other two with her hoof.
"That's right: hiking!" Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement.
"Yeah! Cutie Mark Crusaders... Forest Hikers... yay?" Apple Bloom's voice trailed off.
The zebra mare pulled the hood covering her head back slightly, which revealed her smile as she regarded the three stammering fillies.
"The hiking I see, that much is clear. But is that truly what has brought you here? Like before you follow this perilous trend. Your crusade has not come to an end?"
All three glanced at their flanks when they realized what she was referring to.
"Yeah... about that..." they began in unison.
-----
"We wanted to tell you personally, so that's why we came to visit," Sweetie Belle said first as they all settled down inside.
"Yeah. We would have gotten here sooner, if only Scootaloo hadn't led us on the wrong path," Apple Bloom added. She plopped down next to the white filly and glared at her other friend.
"Hey!" Scootaloo exclaimed. "You said we should do something fun for the occasion! I figured another adventure in the Everfree would do it." The orange filly sat down opposite them. She crossed her hooves and frowned. "Besides, it wasn't the wrong path either. It would have led us straight here, if only some ponies wouldn't have stopped to whine along the way."
Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. "Anyway, " she went on, "since you were always nice to us and helped us out before, we figured you deserved to be one of the first to know. And who better to send than the Cutie Mark Crusaders themselves?"
Zecora nodded silently. She handed them each a piece of cloth that she warmed up near her fireplace to helping them dry up a bit. On the way to her cabin, the storm finally caught up with them, which forced them into a swift gallop to get out of the rain. When the first drops began to fall, the striped mare quickly took off her cloak and used it to cover the three fillies as they hurried toward her home.
"Oh, that's so good!" Apple Bloom said while hugging the warm cloth tightly. "Thank you, Zecora!" She raised an eyebrow when she noticed the zebra's soaked mane and hide. "Aren't you gonna get one for yerself?"
The zebra merely smiled. She gently brushed her forehooves through her mane, then swept them over her face, followed by the rest of her body. They watched in amazement as all the moisture seemed to disappear from every part of her coat right after her hooves passed over them. It was almost as if the water was but a piece of clothing, and she simply took it off.
"Wow, that's amazing!" Scootaloo mused. "How did you do that?"
"If time allows, there are many skills that one can find. Now, let me hear about those marks on your behinds."
"Oooh! Me first!" Sweetie Belle chirped.
"Why should you go first? I go first!" Scootaloo snapped at her.
"No way! I get to be first!" Apple Bloom joined in.
Their hooves were already raised in front of their faces as they prepared to duke it out once more. When they noticed Zecora's disapproving glare, however, they decided to back down. Seconds ticked by in awkward silence, until Sweetie Belle realized that the zebra was still looking at her. No doubt Zecora was expecting her to speak first.
"Well," Sweetie Belle began, "what happened was... we had just ended a meeting at the clubhouse after another day of crusading, and I was walking back home. As I walked by this house next to Sugar Cube Corner, I heard some really nice music coming from one of the windows. I didn't recognize it, but I liked it very much. That gorgeous melody got stuck in my head for the rest of the day. It was frustrating, and I really wanted to hear it properly again, but I had no idea how to find out what it was."
She paused for a moment to glare at Scootaloo, who mocked her storytelling with an overplayed yawn. The orange filly stopped when she noticed Zecora glaring at her as well.
"Anyway..." Sweetie Belle went on, "I decided to ask Rarity, since she told me so many times that she has good taste in music. Well, she says she has good taste in everything, really. Still, I hoped she could recognize it for me anyway, so I went over to her and sang the melody that was in my head."
"I'm not sure I did a good job, but the next thing I know, Rarity is shaking me between her hooves and begging me to sing something else for her. So I do, and she starts squealing like I had just turned into a giant diamond, or something. She even drags me over to her old piano, hands me some sheet music, and starts playing the tune of some song while telling me to sing.
"I've never seen her that excited before." The filly paused for a moment. "That, and I never knew she could play the piano." She chuckled. "Anyway, she tells me my voice is wonderful, and that I might even be truly talented. I start thinking about it, and..." She trailed off again. "I don't know... somehow, the idea set off a change in me, and I could feel that something really big happened. The next moment, I take a look at my flank, though I could almost feel what I would find there, and there it was!"
With that, she pointed at her flank while grinning proudly. Indeed, the area in question on her rear half was no longer bare. A cutie mark now adorned it, which depicted a small bird with its beak open, perched atop a bar containing seven musical notes. The bar's lines were black, while the bird and the notes themselves matched the colors of Sweetie Belle's mane and tail.
Zecora nodded approvingly, and even Apple Bloom gave her friend an encouraging pat on the back.
"Meh," Scootaloo said, "Your namby-pamby story is nothing compared to how awesome it was when I got my cutie mark!"
Apple Bloom sighed. "Great... here we go again..."
"So there I was," the pegasus went on without skipping a beat, "Standing on the edge of the platform, looking over the course as I prepared to perform the most dangerous stunt of my entire life. A journey at breakneck speeds through twists and turns so perilous that no ordinary pony could ever hope to survive it. The stress on my nerves was calmed by only one thought: my stunt was to be overseen by the greatest, most amazing flier in all of Equestria: Rainbow Dash. This was my big chance to prove to her how good I am!"
"Heeey!" Sweetie Belle interrupted. "That's not how you told the story to us! You just said that after the meeting you went down to that skating rink they set up for a competition and tried out a couple of new moves."
"And Rainbow Dash wasn't 'overseeing your stunt,'" Apple Bloom added and rolled her eyes. "She jus' wanted to know how exactly ya managed to crash into her, since she was sleepin' on a tree dozens of yards away."
"Pfft..." Scootaloo waved a hoof. "Details, details... the point is that the two of us have set up a really tight course, full of obstacles that are risky to avoid at high speeds, and she told me to give it a go. So I hit it on my trusted scooter, my wings propelling me as fast as they could, as well as helping me get through the jumps and make all those sharp turns. It was really tense, and several times I thought I would get badly hurt... or even worse. Like... disappointing the greatest flier this world has ever known."
Her friends rolled their eyes again.
"But then, before I even realized it, I was through. I've done it. Rainbow Dash looked really impressed, surprised even, and asked me to do it again. And again. And again. Every time, I managed to do a clean run. Then she tried taking a ride through it herself. Somehow, despite her awesomeness, she couldn't avoid hitting something along the way each time. After about a dozen more tries, she simply gave up and congratulated me. For beating her.
"I couldn't have been more amazed. Me, being able to match— no, outdo Rainbow Dash? The only thing that blew my mind even more was when she suggested I practice with her from then on. She said I have talent and that I should work on it. Then maybe she would even let me have that place she reserved for me among the Wonderbolts..."
"What? She never said that!" Apple Bloom exclaimed.
"And she's not even in the Wonderbolts yet!" Sweetie Belle added.
"Quit ruining my story, you two!" Scootaloo snapped. "Anyway, it felt really good coming from her. All my life, I've been looking up to her, wishing that I could one day hear her praise me." She gave a frustrated glance behind her back. "And with these stupid wings on my back not getting me off the ground any time soon, it didn't look like I was ever going to. Then I realized what I was able to do when I combined them with my scooter. It gives me an edge over all others when I perform stunts like these. That's when it hit me." It was her turn to grin and point to her flank. "And that was when these babies showed up!"
Her own mark featured a pair of wheels, not unlike those of a scooter. They were engulfed by raging yellow flames and left a pair of burning tracks in their wake. Zecora gave another nod of approval.
"Thank you, Scootaloo, for sharing your 'tale of awesomeness' with us lowly mortals," Apple Bloom said, her voice dripping of sarcasm. "Was getting out of the egg and the hen-house that exciting, too?"
"Hey! Cut it out already!" the pegasus cried.
"Well, Ah went straight home like the others," Apple Bloom began, ignoring her friend's complaints. "Ah hoped Ah would be able to help out at the farm at least, what with no cutie mark that day either. Mah sister Applejack was busy pulling the cart back into the barn, and she asked me to put her tools back in the shed. As Ah carried them back, Ah noticed how banged up the ol' shed was, and figured she could use a bit of fixin' up. So Ah put the tools down and got to work.
"In just a few minutes, and before Ah even broke a sweat, the shed was done and lookin' better than ever. Ah didn't feel like stoppin', though, so Ah moved on to the barn. Ah fixed all the holes in the roof, gave it a new paint job, fixed the wheels on the cart, and even managed to polish that ol' plow that Big Mac had to struggle with. The sun didn't even touch the horizon by the time Ah was done. Ah never felt so proud before. It felt great.
"Sis came out to tell me to come to dinner. Ah could hardly stop laughing when Ah saw the look on her face. She asked me how long it took me to do all that. When Ah told her, she didn't believe me at first, so I took her to the windmill next to the barn an bet her Ah could fix it up in five minutes." She beamed. "Two minutes later, we had runnin' water comin' from that thing again.
"Applejack was so very happy for me. She said Ah'm gifted, and that she's never seen somepony work so well and so fast. By the time she put me down from her hug, Ah could tell that something changed. Ah finally found what Ah was really good at."
With a wide smile, she turned her own flank toward the zebra. The mark on it featured a small flower, resembling that of an apple tree in bloom. A golden wrench was laid over it diagonally.
"Well, now... it looks like you ponies have completed your quest," Zecora declared with a smile. She then paused when a gloom seemed to come over her guests all of a sudden.
"Why is it then," she continued, "that your mood is not the best?"
"Well... I don't know... I just..." Sweetie Belle blurted out.
"We..." Scootaloo muttered.
"Ah guess we kinda' hoped we would get our marks together," Apple Bloom said with a sigh. "What with all the effort we've put into it for so long."
Zecora's eyebrows raised slightly, but she did not say a word.
"Yeah..." Sweetie Belle added. "Makes it all feel like wasted effort, really... and what happens to our group now? I mean, we'll still be friends and all, but..."
"How can we be 'the Cutie Mark Crusaders' when there's no more crusading to do?" Scootaloo muttered. She glanced at her friends with a pained expression in her eyes.
"And even this." Apple Bloom pointed at her flank. "Ah was really happy to get it, and all, but... Ah mean, mah sis never encouraged me to do anything like what Ah did before. She always said these things are 'too dangerous,' and that Ah should 'let the big ponies handle it.' What if Ah could have discovered mah talent way back then?"
"Now that you mentioned it, I remember singing in front of Rarity way before that day, but only now did she suddenly decide that I have 'talent,'" Sweetie Belle joined in. She pouted. "Was she even paying attention before that? Was anypony?"
They both looked at Scootaloo after that, who was busy pretending she had nothing to add. It did not take long before she gave in, however, and bowed her head down with a sigh.
"Yeah..." she muttered. "I guess Rainbow Dash never encouraged me to do anything daring before either. For a long time, she never once took me under her wing, even though I looked up to her and praised her since the day I met her." She gave a sad smile and glanced behind her back again. Her wings fluttered slightly. "I guess since I wasn't able to fly, she just decided there was no reason to even bother. I never saw any reason to do anything special with my scooter, either. There was nopony else around that I wanted to impress."
Zecora stared at the sombre trio with a surprised look on her face and listened to them pour their hearts out one by one. Finally, after they all went silent and retreated to just sighs, as well as the occasional cough, sneeze or sniffle, she decided to speak up.
"My, oh my! The youth in your heads is still very strong. Can this honestly be what makes you all feel so wrong?"
Their eyes widened in surprise as they looked up at the striped mare in front of them. She shook her head slowly, a smirk on her face, and leaned closer to the fillies.
"A powerful bond has formed within this group you made. But did you really expect such an end to your crusade? 'Three sharing one mark...' You wish that upon your rear? Should it not be unique and find its own time to appear?
"Others are not to blame," she went on, "they cannot force it out for you. Talent can only come from within, its source must be true."
She then pointed to their capes that were drying on a line near the fire. "Do you remember all those many things you have tried?"
The trio nodded. Scootaloo even giggled a little. They had to admit that, in retrospect, some of their activities were a little over-the-top.
"If you open your eyes now, what do you expect to find?"
The fillies pondered silently for a few moments and recollected all of their past endeavors. In the end, they just shrugged.
"Yeah... I suppose you're right, Zecora," Sweetie Belle muttered. "We did get a little carried away."
"We wanted our marks so bad, we never realized how far we went to get them," Apple Bloom joined in. "We ignored everything everypony else said... and even did some pretty mean stuff."
"It was right there in front of us the whole time, but we were thinking too big," Scootaloo admitted as well. "If only we could have slowed down a little. Maybe we wouldn't have wasted all this time, then blamed everypony else for it. But what about us? What are we supposed to do now?"
Zecora sat down before them, placed her hooves under their chins, and gently lifted their muzzles so they would look at her. Her smile lifted their spirits somewhat.
"A cutie mark is merely part of the whole, a pony so much more," she began. "As it is merely part of your hide, just no longer blank as before.
"Why give in now, knowing all those things you can do? You should exploit this chance that's been given to you. You are still young, full of life, in your soul plenty of spark, and there are many others who have yet to find their mark."
Their faces lit up almost immediately. "Hey! Wait a minute! She's right! We could be the group that helps other foals get their cutie marks!" Sweetie Belle said.
"Yeah, that's a great idea!" Apple Bloom added. "Think about it: even Babs Seed hasn't got hers yet. And who knows how many new members she could've added to the Crusaders since then?"
"Thank you, Zecora! You are amazing!" Scootaloo exclaimed. "CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS... err... Oh! TALENT SEEKERS!"
"YAY!" they cheered in unison.
With that, the three fillies jumped up, grabbed their respective crusading capes, and bolted for the door. A sudden flash through the windows and the roaring thunder that followed it up, however, stopped them dead in their tracks. Without skipping a beat, they turned around and trotted straight back to their host.
"Uhh... Zecora?" Apple Bloom stammered with an awkward grin. "Eh-heh-heh... mind if we stick around for just a teensy-weensy bit longer?"
Zecora did not reply, merely smiled and walked over to her fireplace in the center of the chamber, where she inserted a few more logs to feed the quietly dancing flames. The three fillies sat down in a semi-circle near the fire to take in its warmth while they listened to the rain patter on the windows, the sound occasionally interrupted by the moans of a stronger gust of wind, or the murmurs of thunder in the distance.
As they sat there in silence, their nerves finally managed to calm down enough to let them take in their surroundings. While all three of them have spent time in Zecora's home before, they always found themselves amazed by all the exotic features it contained. The dozens of masks, tools, and trinkets from faraway lands adorning the walls. Pots, herbs, and spices all around, and certain things they did not even have names for. Even the air seemed to have an aroma to it that felt foreign somehow, though definitely not unpleasant. Every time they entered this place was almost like having an adventure in an entirely different world, full of new things to experience.
"Hey, uh... Zecora?" Sweetie Belle spoke up. When she did, her friends finally managed to tear their gaze away from all the wonders of the chamber. "I've always wondered: what is that mark on your flank? Is that anything like a cutie mark? Does it have some kind of special meaning?"
The zebra's ears perked up. She put down the bowl she was holding in her hooves and turned around to stare straight into the unicorn filly's eyes.
"I mean... if you don't want to talk about it... I..." Sweetie Belle began to shrink back.
"No need to worry, dear Sweetie Belle," Zecora replied in a reassuring tone, "but it is indeed a long story to tell."
The fillies looked at each other, eyes growing wide.
"A story? Cool!" Scootaloo exclaimed. She then paused and crossed her hooves with a frown. "Unless it's another namby-pamby 'story with a lesson at the end...'"
"Scootaloo!" her friends cried.
Zecora merely chuckled as she walked over to the other end of the chamber. Moments later, she returned with a large black pot, which the fillies recognized as the one she used to brew all kinds of special mixtures, potions, and remedies. Or, on occasion, just a bit of spicy soup for dinner.
"No problem at all, little pony guests of mine. This story, in fact, to words I will not confine. Some work is needed, though while I prepare, a few minor details I have the time to share. Like ponies, marks on our hides we have worn, only we have had them ever since we were born."
"What?" Apple Bloom blurted out. "You mean you get them right from the start? When you're born?"
Scootaloo rolled her eyes. "Duh! Are you deaf, or something?"
"Shhh!" Sweetie Belle hissed.
The striped mare did not go on. Instead, she added a few more logs to the fire, then placed the large pot on top of it. She brought over some water, as well as a couple of bags and pots from the shelves surrounding them. The fillies watched silently as she poured the water into the pot, waited for it to heat up a little, then began adding the ingredients to the mixture. From time to time, she would stop to swirl the contents around, examine the progress of her brew, then add the next dose of powder or liquid while her audience watched in anticipation.
After a few minutes, a greyish cloud of vapor began to seep out of the top of the pot. Zecora seemed satisfied with the results, since she began to return all the remaining ingredients to their respective places. She trotted back to the pot with one final additive, which the trio recognized almost immediately.
"Hey, isn't that the strange powder she used on Nightmare Night?" Sweetie Belle asked.
"Wow! Is she going to show us some kind of really cool illusion again?" Scootaloo joined in.
"Ah bet it's going to be a really big adventure, full of all sorts of dangers, and..."
The zebra waited patiently for them to finish. When they realized that they were interrupting their host, the trio immediately piped down. Zecora smiled again and slowly poured some of the sparkling green powder into the steadily bubbling mixture. In an instant, a column of green vapor shot out of the pot and slowly began to fill up the chamber with a thick fog of the same color.
The Crusaders twisted their heads left and right, unsure of what exactly was going on. They expected a choking fume, but found they have no trouble breathing when the thick fog enveloped them as well. Their ears perked up when they heard the zebra softly mutter some sort of incantation in a foreign tongue. Moments later, she stopped, and the fog began swirling around the room violently along with an unsettling roar.
Just before they intended to voice their concerns, the noise vanished, and the motion slowed down to a much more calm circulation. The thick green haze now filled up the chamber entirely, with only the center of the room more or less clear of it. This is where the three young ponies huddled together, the striped mare standing next to them.
"Whoa! Wait a minute! Is that...?" Apple Bloom cried out. The other two tried to look at where she was pointing with her hoof, but soon it became irrelevant. All over the "surface" of the haze, patterns were beginning to form. They were impossible for them to recognize, but nonetheless they were distinct shapes that stood out in the ever-swirling fog.
Slightly panicked, they stared up at the zebra. Her eyes were closed, and she was muttering some sort of incantation again. Seconds later, her eyes shot open as she began to speak in a low voice.
"So many moons and suns ago, in a land that few ponies know, there lived a zebra foal of one..." She paused for a moment and gave a deep sigh. The confused trio huddled together more tightly. "...who always dreamed about the sun."
With that, the patterns themselves began to move around, which attracted the gaze of the fillies once again. Their jaws dropped when a clear, colorful image suddenly appeared in place of the green fog all around them. The fog itself now retreated to its edges and acted as a sort of frame.
The image depicted a dusty, dry, sun-scorched land that stretched out all the way to the horizon. They viewed it from the center of a field of greyish soil and yellowing grass, surrounded by stout trees with thin but wide canopies, as well as all sorts of creatures that the fillies did not recognize. The beings either roamed in the distance or lay motionless in one of the few spots of shade they could find. Anything that was directly in the light would not stay put.
Their view seemed to be focused in the direction that Zecora was facing, so the trio quietly shuffled around and sat beside her accordingly. Straight ahead of them stood a hoofful of mud huts. Their reddish walls and roofs made of hay were tinted several shades lighter by the noon blaze. Between these hovels trotted several four-legged creatures from time to time, each one sporting a very familiar black-and-white striped hide.
"Woooooowww..." all three little ponies cooed in unison.
All of a sudden, the image became distorted. The shapes inside blurred and started shifting around. Moments later, they settled down again, and the ponies' point of view was now much closer to the village. In the center of the image stood one of the huts near the outskirts of the settlement now. A pair of striped figures stood in its shade: a zebra foal facing an older one, whom they assumed was her father. The two appeared to be speaking to each other, but there was no sound to accompany the image.
Upon closer inspection, the Crusaders noticed that both zebras wore all sorts of ornaments, not unlike the ones they could see on Zecora. The father, in fact, seemed to be wearing almost the exact same arrangement as their host. The foal, on the other hand, had only a pair of small earrings, a thin necklace made of straw and colorful rocks, and a single ring at the base of her tail. Both of them had marks on their flanks: the father's a diamond-shaped, maze-like arrangement of wavy lines, while the one on the filly was a more familiar image: a black spiral surrounded by a dozen small triangles of the same color.
"Worried by her painful sight, the father asked about her plight."
The image wavered slightly, and their ears perked up when they could faintly hear all the noises of the land surrounding them, not to mention the voices of the figures that stood before them.
"Haaaayyy!" Apple Bloom complained. "They aren't speaking in equestrian! How are we supposed to—"
"Shhhhh!" the other two hissed.
The father had a deep, firm voice, while the filly's was lighter and much more high-pitched than what they expected, though still rather deep compared to most ponies her age. They had no idea what was being said, so they had to rely on the Zecora's narration, while the filly's short bursts of speech and sad tone, and her father's soft monologues served as mere illustration.
"Sadness poured from within her soul: 'what is the purpose of this foal?' The honest meanings of their lives, a zebra's mark it all describes.
"'What does mine speak, bestowed one?' She was certain now: 'Of the sun! Where does it go, what does it do after its daily arc is through?'
"She could not stay. She had to know. With father's blessing, she could go. Follow the blazing lantern's wrath to every land within its path."
The pair stopped talking, and the father leaned forward to hug his foal. She hugged him back, and they held each other for a while in a loving embrace.
"The father's love for only child would not seal her from the wild. Sensing fate, he approved her quest. With great resolve, she left him blessed."
The image disappeared as the green haze took its place again.
"Wow, Zecora! That was amazing!" Apple Bloom said.
"Yeah! But what happened after that?" Sweetie Belle asked.
Scootaloo groaned. "Quiet, you two! Can't you see she's trying to get there?"
The zebra did not say a word. Moments later, the image reformed once more. It now showed her younger self as she trotted slowly through the seemingly endless land. She would stop to rest in the shade under a tree from time to time, and occasionally she glanced behind her back with a longing expression on her face. She would not turn around, however. True to her word, she headed straight after the sun: due west.
"Thus, the filly was on her way. From humble roots to far away."
The image wavered every now and then, which they soon recognized as a slight jump forward in time. It showed her in a wide variety of situations: how she traveled by day. How she set up camp for the night. How she went out to gather food and water, as well as all the other useful things that nature had to offer. How she warded off all kinds of predators using what her father and the others in her tribe had taught her. The fillies even recognized some of the things the young zebra was now carrying, for they have seen them all just recently in her cabin.
"And soon the known lands disappeared. Forth came the unknown that she feared."
They watched the striped filly trot toward the horizon with firm resolve. Her eyes were fixed on the setting sun as her legs carried her toward it. The next moment, the image disappeared once again, and the green cloud suddenly collapsed into the center of the room. For what felt like minutes, their vision was consumed by a green haze, and all sound around them faded into muffled noises in the distance, until...
-----
-----
"What do you want?" the stallion grunted.
She gasped and instinctively took a step back from the stand. With great apprehension, she looked up at the pony who stood behind it. He frowned at her and tapped his hoof impatiently on the wooden surface. She struggled to find the right words, and her lips trembled as she slowly tried to breathe a response.
"Well?" he demanded. His patience appeared to be in short supply.
"T-t-trade R-rh... Rhumbaya?" she managed to force out, then held up one of the small bags that hung from her neck. There was no turning back again. This had to work. This was the third town where they tried to turn her away, and she couldn't let that—
-----
"Wow! What's going on now?"
"Apple Bloom!" they yelled at her.
"Geez! Ah'm sorry, already! Calm down, y'all!"
-----
"Get away from 'ere!" the stallion replied angrily. "Go find someone else! Idiot little brat..."
Having stumbled out of the shade, she had to squint her eyes to make out his features in the glare. He was a large, brown-coated stallion with a thick, black mane and beard. Unlike most in this particular market, he appeared to speak fluent Equestrian, though only with a thick fancee accent. The contents of the stand before him revealed that he was one of the caravan traders: an ideal opportunity for travelers short on money but loaded with goods.
Bowing her head down, defeated again, she slowly trudged away. 'It seems he doesn't welcome the sight of my kind, either,' she thought.
"That's because you've got the look all wrong."
Her head shot up. 'Is someone speaking to me?' she thought. 'No. This is a crowded marketplace. A lot of folk moving around and making all kinds of noise. I probably just—'
"Think about it: what exactly do you look like?" the voice came again. She realized it was coming from behind her and quickly turned around. A young colt stood there, staring straight at her. He was roughly the same size as her, most likely close to her age as well. His coat was light brown, while his mane a dirty blonde. "Somepony one could trust, just like that?"
A smug grin appeared on his face. "Nah, I'll tell you what: You look like one of those poor kids over there." He gestured toward the far corner of the marketplace, where over a dozen dirty and sickly-looking foals drifted about or lay in the shade. "A beggar perhaps, or maybe even a thief. Why, if I were to set up shop here, I would probably turn you away, too."
She just stared for a couple of seconds, not sure what to make of the situation, until the colt's words finally struck her. She frowned, but before she could had a chance to retort, he grabbed her by her hoof and started pulling her away from the stand.
"Here, let me show you how it's done," he said.
Ignoring her protests and weak attempts at resistance, the colt dragged her through the crowd and led her to the far end of the marketplace, where he let go of her hoof, winked at her playfully, then disappeared under one of the small tents set up by the wall.
Moments later, a small, pony-shaped figure emerged from the same tent. He was shrouded from head to toe in a dark brown cloak, his face almost entirely concealed by the cloth. Only a small portion of his snout stuck out from under the hood.
The zebra's eyes widened. If she had not met him just recently, and had not followed him to this exact spot, she probably would not have recognized him now.
'What on Earth is this child planning to do?' she thought.
He walked past her, almost as if she were not there, and headed straight back the way they just came. She followed him hesitantly and kept about a dozen paces between them the whole time. Her curiosity was piqued further when she noticed that his movement adopted an entirely different fashion. There was no more childish clumsiness or extravagance. Instead, there was an almost mysterious grace to every step he took, and his cloaked form flowed past the other figures in the crowded square like a mere gust of wind.
He led her straight back to the irate merchant that they abandoned not two minutes ago. The zebra filly bit her lip, nervousness now adding to her curiosity. The shrouded colt, on the other hand, did not seem worried at all. He nonchalantly walked up to the merchant and placed a small bag onto his table. The stallion, who was still busy shaking the hoof of his latest customer, turned his head lazily to the newcomer with the same condescending look on his face as before. When he realized what stood before him, however, his expression changed dramatically.
Zecora had to stifle a giggle. She never saw a pony go so pale so quickly before. The trader immediately discarded the other customer's hoof and bowed his head before the hooded figure. With all the noise and the distance between them, she could not hear most of the conversation, but what little she could make out was mostly the stallion rattling off apologies as fast as he could for keeping the colt waiting. Still keeping his head low, he then respectfully inquired how he could be of service. The colt pointed to his bag, then murmured what Zecora assumed was a price.
The stallion tried to cough up a few objections, perhaps in a hope to achieve a better bargain, but the immovable pose and the silent, eyeless gaze of the figure before him soon evaporated the rest of his courage. Muttering to himself, the merchant produced a small bag of coins, counted the money out in the open, then handed the bag over and took the package the colt offered. After the exchange, they conversed for a couple more minutes. The zebra noticed that, strangely enough, there were plenty of other customers waiting in line, yet not one of them dared to interrupt the two, at least not after they noticed who was keeping them waiting.
Finally, the bearded stallion bowed his head again, and the colt turned away from the booth, then departed with the same peculiar elegance as the one that brought him there. Zecora followed him. Once they made it halfway across the square again, the cloaked figure halted all of a sudden, turned around, and threw his hood back.
"See? That's how you do it!" he exclaimed and grinned wildly at the stunned zebra.
"H-how?"
"Oh, silly! Didn't you know? The only ones these fools have any respect for are the so-called 'wanderers.'"
"Wanderer?" she stammered.
"Yeah! All kinds of strange folk, most of them traveling on their own. They bring all sorts of strange news from all around, and even stranger things to trade. Nopony really knows who might be under the cloak each time, and few are brave enough to question. What matters is they'll suspect a lot worse about you than you being some petty thief, or whatever."
He laughed as he produced the small money bag and rattled its contents proudly before her face. "As you can see, it can get you a pretty good bargain. You just need to sell the right act."
She pointed a hoof at him hesitantly. "Y-you...?"
"Me? Nah!" He gave a slight chuckle. "I kinda wish I was, since it looks pretty cool. Well, that... and this, too." He nodded his head toward the bag in his hoof again. "I've talked to a few of them, though, and it didn't exactly sound like a very pleasant way to live." He sighed. "One does not become a wanderer of their own accord, unless their life finds a way to derail completely at some point."
A few moments of awkward silence passed between them, before he began to speak once more in a near-whisper.
"Wanderer from lands unknown,
Passerby who walks alone.
"What brings you to our embrace?
What do you seek from this place?
"Have you found what guides your feet?
Driving you through cold and heat?
Maybe you have lost your way?
Fate has led your life astray?"
She looked at him curiously as she noticed a hint of sadness creep into his cheerful demeanor. It quickly dissipated, however, and the colt soon grinned at her wildly again.
"Well, enough about that!" he said. "Want to try it yourself?"
The zebra's mouth dropped. She was about to politely decline the offer, but the colt was already dragging her away to his tent once more. He quickly threw off his cloak and covered the baffled filly with it, then, to add to what he called the "mysticalness" of her look, he even gave her some mock jewellery to put around her neck and forelegs.
After few more tugs here and there, he stepped back to inspect his work.
"Perfect!" he exclaimed, apparently pleased with the result. "Okay, so you wanted to sell this bag, right? Very well. All you need to do is make sure..."
-----
A little while later, a pair of giggling foals ducked under the pole that held up the roof of their tent. They sat down facing each other and looked over their treasure proudly.
After he was confident enough that Zecora could pull it off, the colt decided they should pay that rude merchant another visit. The hapless stallion was now visibly unnerved by the second 'wanderer' to stop by at his stand that day. He did not put up any more of a fight, though.
The zebra thought she must be dreaming when the money was laid out before her. With her purse now a great deal more healthy, and her mood better than ever, she finally managed to find some relief after so many weeks of pointless struggling.
As she giggled with the colt, for a moment, Zecora thought back to how she felt under the cloak just a few minutes ago. While she was trying her best to get into character, she felt herself slowly being overtaken by a sensation that was entirely new to her. Her vision was half-obscured, thus shielded from the merciless sun. The world could only be seen through a murky, translucent veil. Her body was all but absorbed by the robe. She felt almost supernatural, for lack of a better word. Like a spirit from the world beyond that roamed freely among mere mortals. Those who would rather avert their eyes and feign ignorance than to challenge such a being and risk whatever horrible fate they might bring upon them.
It frightened her at first, and she became all the more afraid of messing up her act. But then something changed. Less than an hour ago, most of the folk here seemed capable of treading all over her without ever noticing that she was there. Now, as she began to notice the very same ponies glance at her nervously, then struggle to get out of her way, her apprehension began to fade. She could almost feel her spirit swelling up. Her hoofsteps slowly became an intangible flow, her voice went lower, and her speech became much more sparse. Her eyes now scanned the figures around her in an almost condescending way. She even let a tiny smile tug at her lips when the trader's face lost its color before her. It made her feel powerful, and that excited her to no end.
Back under the tent, with the robe now off of her, the sensation disappeared. She felt herself return to "normal" again. But it no longer felt that comfortable to be "normal" any more. It almost made her feel exposed somehow. Weak. Fearful.
It didn't matter. She put the thought behind her and rejoined the colt in their laughter at the sight of their bounty.
"Yeah! Now you've got the hang of it!" he exclaimed and bumped his hoof against hers. He taught her the gesture on the way back from their second "shopping trip."
"Wow! Look at all the money we got!" he added. "You sure had some good stuff on you."
Zecora smiled. "I thank. You good, too!"
"Nah, I'm more of a businesscolt." He waved it off and laughed. "By the way, my name is Muddy Water. Nice to meet you. And you are?"
At this, she hesitated for a few seconds. It all felt so strange. Throughout her journey so far, she either attracted everyone's gaze like some exotic beast on display, or she was ignored completely. She never saw any reason to share her name before.
Zecora swallowed. Up until now, no one ever approached her so naturally. For all she knew, this colt might have been the first being outside her home that was worth getting to know. She sighed and looked deeply into his eyes, where his friendly gaze offered her much needed comfort.
"Zecora," she replied.
-----
The vision broke up, and the cloud around them dispersed just as quickly as it approached, then retreated to the edges of the room once more. The images slowly began to reform there.
"Wooooowww..." the fillies mused together while they rubbed their eyes.
"By Celestia! What was all that just now, Zecora?" Apple Bloom asked and turned toward the striped mare behind them.
"The illusions can work in many ways as they reveal my tale. I can make the experience direct, removing any distorting veil."
"Did you feel it too?" Scootaloo asked her friends. "It was like we were in a furnace!"
"I never imagined it could get that hot anywhere," Sweetie Belle added.
"Were you able to... sense her thoughts like Ah did? It was really strange..."
"Strange?" the orange filly cried. "It was awesome! Do it again!"
"Hey, look!" the young unicorn pointed her hoof at the swirling green cloud, where they could now see the colt and the zebra trotting through the dry lands together. The image wavered slightly and it now showed them as they struggled to ascend on a steep, rocky mountainside. In the distance, they could see the rest of the snow-capped range stretch out before the pair, who seemed determined to pass through it all.
"Wow! He went with you on your journey?" Scootaloo turned toward their host. "Did you two have many adventures together?"
Zecora closed her eyes, and every now and then the illusion would shift, giving the three fillies a few glimpses of the daring youngsters' journey as they traveled across the world. At all times, their intended direction was clear from the position of the sun up above: toward the place where it sets. Due west. Each new memory she revealed left the fillies struck with awe, and they did not hesitate to voice their amazement.
Sweetie Belle's eyes grew wide. "Is that a forest?" she asked. "Can trees actually grow that high?"
"Whoa! What are those black things on the mountaintops?" Scootaloo joined in. "Are they dangerous? Hey, don't hide in the caves! I want to see some action!"
"Look! The ocean!" Apple Bloom cried. "By Celestia, Ah can't believe mah eyes! The ocean! It's so beautiful! And look: they're taking a boat across!"
"Look at the feathers on that bird!" the pegasus said. "And that giant beak! Pfft... And they call us 'candy-colored equines'..."
"Those mountains look huge," Sweetie Belle said. "You sure were lucky to have that colt around to help you out. Did you actually climb all those? Was it tough?"
“Much we were through," Zecora declared proudly, "going where few others would dare...”
“Ooh, look! Now she’s leanin’ her face close to his, and— Hey!” Apple Bloom cried in disappointment as the image suddenly became hazy again.
“And did many more things that I do not wish to share...” the zebra continued. The white stripes on her face mixed with a slight amount of red.
"Awww..." they all cooed, then giggled slightly and gave the embarrassed mare a few nudges and knowing looks.
"Did you two have many adventures, then?" Sweetie Belle asked after they finally stopped teasing their host.
"Yeah! Something awesome?" Scootaloo joined in. "Like fighting a dragon? Or taming a rampaging hydra?"
"Whatever happened to that nice colt?" Apple Bloom asked. She gave Zecora a worried look. "Ah mean: None of us have ever met him, even though it looks like he became your friend."
She gulped. "Or... he was your friend?"
The zebra placed a reassuring hoof on her shoulder.
"You need not worry, I am quite certain he is well. And indeed there are many stories that I could tell. But right now we must focus on the important part, so I will share one last memory before you depart."
They stared at her, not exactly sure what she meant by that, until they noticed a hole forming in the greenish fog behind them, right over one of the windows on Zecora's home. By looking outside, they could tell that the storm has since died down. The cloud cover overhead was already breaking up in several places, which allowed a few rays of the sun to pass through.
"Wow..." the unicorn filly muttered. "This story sure got us carried away."
"Will you show us one more thing then, Zecora?" Apple Bloom pleaded. She even threw in her best "cute pleading look" to try and convince her, though Zecora was already deep in concentration again, and the fog slowly began to swirl around them once more.
-----
"Come on! Hurry!" he cried.
They galloped as fast as they could into the woods. She did her best to ignore the menacing figures created by the dark outlines of the trees and the undergrowth. The rapidly approaching sounds of a large body tearing through the forest kept them on the run. They panted heavily and willed their hooves to move as fast as they could.
"Did you see how fast that thing moved?" he exclaimed between breaths. "What the hay was that?"
"Sumba Ng'e," Zecora answered. "Lion scorpion."
"Oh! Ouch... maybe that old mare back in town wasn't so crazy after all. This place is nasty..."
Their desperate sprint to save their skins led them out from under the canopy, straight to the edge of a wide, deep gorge that blocked their path. The gorge seemed to run all the way through the forest, so there was no way for them to go around it. To their right, however, several hundred feet away, they noticed a flimsy-looking rope bridge. Without thinking, they ran straight toward it, the manticore hot on their tails.
"Hurry! Over the bridge!" Muddy Water yelled.
"Easier said than done," Zecora thought. The wooden pieces wedged between the frayed ropes somehow looked older than the forest itself. Having no other choice, they both dashed straight onto the fragile structure. The sound of the whining ropes and crackling planks beneath their hooves sent shivers down their spines.
The manticore let out a thunderous roar. Zecora peeked behind her back. The beast growled furiously and slammed its paws against the ground when it had to stop at the edge of the gorge. It followed them with a hateful gaze as its prey escaped over the bridge, which was far too narrow for it to try and cross over.
"That's it!" Muddy said. "We've los—"
She felt a snap, followed by the horrifying sensation of the ground giving away beneath her hooves. Mere seconds seemed to stretch out into minutes: there was a heartbeat's length of free fall. Her foreleg grasped the rope beside her head. They screamed and told the other to hold on. She put one hoof before the other. Panicked bursts of thought came: 'Climb. That's right. Climb. Reach the other side. Hurry. It cannot hold for much longer.' The other reached out with his hoof. She felt another snap.
"Gotcha!" he exclaimed.
Zecora opened her eyes. Her heart somehow relocated to her throat and was now trying to pound its way out of there. She looked up and saw Muddy standing at the edge of the gorge. He grinned at her the way he always did. The muscles in his forelegs were twitching as he struggled to keep her from falling to her doom.
"You want to... climb out of there... maybe today?" he asked between strained gasps.
Zecora chuckled and used her hind legs to push her body up. Her companion could thus pull her away from the precipice. With them both safely on solid ground once again, they quickly hugged each other and laughed heartily.
A split-second later, they jumped away to either side as the manticore lunged at them. It let out another earth-shaking roar and turned toward the earth pony to its left. It snapped its jaws and stabbed its tail at him, while Muddy did his best to dodge every strike.
Zecora grit her teeth. 'Of course,' she thought. 'Sumba Ng'e have wings. How could I have forgotten? Has it been so long...?'
She shook her head. 'No. There will be time to think about that later.'
She quickly took off her saddlebag, opened it, then picked out the thread with a red knot around it used it to extract one of her smaller bags. With the bag firmly between her teeth, she ran up to their attacker from behind. Its attention was focused on Muddy, so she managed to get close enough without being noticed and quickly slammed her forelegs hard against the manticore's ear.
The large creature let out a howl of agony. Its paws groped the side of its head as it turned around to fix its now bloodshot eyes on the zebra. When it did, the manticore revealed its tightly grit teeth and growled furiously.
Zecora narrowed her eyes as she stood her ground. The enraged manticore charged straight at her and let out another loud roar as it prepared to crush her head between its jaws. Having waited for this moment, she immediately jumped away to the side and threw the bag between her teeth at the creature's face. It slammed into the manticore's snout, and its head disappeared in a cloud of bright red powder.
The manticore skidded to a halt. It started hacking and coughing as it shook its head to try and get the powder off. Its eyes blinked uncontrollably as they watered and began to swell up. It howled again, which sent it into another fit of coughing and sputtering. It flailed its paws and tail around in a blind frenzy, desperately trying to punish its prey for its misfortune. The roars soon turned into whines of agony, and the manticore gave up. Spreading its wings, it took off as fast as it could, most likely toward the nearest source of water.
Muddy Water ran up beside Zecora while gasping for air. "Wow... how did... you... pull that off?"
She smiled. "Powder ground from the seeds of the Nyekundu Maua," she replied. "In small doses: a delicious spice. In large: enough agony to disarm a dragon."
"Huh..." he said and finally managed to catch his breath. "I'll try to remember that." He then let out another chuckle. "A grumpy, nasty manticore, he chased us here to play. Some burning pepper hit its nose, Zecora saves the day!"
With that, they looked at each other, grinned, and started laughing again.
"I guess that makes us even, now..." he said.
"What?" the zebra replied, frowning. "Did you already forget the last time in—"
"I was counting the bridge, too," he added. They smiled and hugged each other again, though this time they made sure there wasn't anything else waiting to pounce on them first.
"Whoa!" Muddy cried all of a sudden, and his eyes grew wide. "I don't believe it. Could it be...? Hey, Zecora! Look at this!"
The striped mare turned around and followed his gaze. Right in front of them, no more than a few dozen paces from the bridge, stood the ruins of an ancient pony structure, its crumbling walls half-obscured by a thick wall of fog that drifted around them.
"What is this place?" Zecora whispered.
"This, if I'm not mistaken..." Muddy Water gulped. "This is the Ancient Castle of the Royal Sisters..."
-----
They spent the next couple of minutes exploring the ruins. Both stared in awe at every inch of the ancient, forgotten tomb of history. As they ventured between the heavily overgrown remains, the light of the stars and the moon guiding their steps, Muddy did his best to explain to the zebra filly the tale of the two alicorn sisters, and the story of a so-called "Nightmare Moon."
"It is a most interesting tale. But honestly, Mu'we: 'A princess that raises the sun'?" Zecora giggled. "You ponies have a very strange imagination. The sun is not moved by anyone. It moves on its own."
"Well, it may indeed be just an old ponies' tale..." he muttered, then let out a small chuckle. "Then again, you can always just go and ask her yourself about all this."
"Maybe..." she replied. Their tour of the castle eventually took them back to the central chamber again. There was nothing else left to explore. "Though that is probably not what I would ask of her."
"Yeah..." He grunted as he sat down next to one of the walls and lowered his saddlebags to the floor. "That reminds me: what is it with you and the sun? Why do you insist we 'follow it' and head west all the time?"
The zebra sat down next to him and sighed. "It's... nothing. No longer important."
"Hey, come on! 'Nothing' does not take a pony halfway around the world. What is going on?"
Zecora hesitated. 'Should I tell him?' she thought. 'Was there ever any reason to keep it secret, anyway?'
She sighed again and lay on her back. "Very well, Mu'we. I will tell you."
"Mu'we" was a nickname she invented for him. She based it on how it sounded when she once tried to spell out his initials. Loosely translated, in her language, it meant "rocky path." She still wondered sometimes if anyone could ever find a deeper meaning to that. Muddy Water could not, but he did like how it sounded when she said it.
"A few months before I met you," Zecora began, "I lived with my mother and father in a village deep within the land of my kind, many miles away from that city where our paths crossed.
"We zebra, as you may know, are born with marks on our rear." She paused for a moment to point out the mark on her flank. "They are very similar to what you ponies possess, except you seem to have to... 'earn' yours. Ours, on the other hoof, aren't really related to talents at all. They are more... prophetic, I suppose. They speak of the zebra's life who wears them, and they predict how that life may turn out, perhaps even what purpose it may have. They marks are very difficult to understand, however. Many are deciphered only after the vital part of the Zebra's life has already passed them by."
She glanced at her companion. Muddy Water lay on his side, looking at her and listening intently.
"I was born with a mark that I could never understand," Zecora went on. "The sun, however, has always amazed me. It arrives at our land, sends its heat down to us, then travels further on to a place far away. I always wished to know where it went.
"My father said he believed the sun may indeed be a part of my mark. But the true answers would have to be found by me. I told him what I wanted: I did not wish to stay any longer. I had to see it. I wished to travel after it. To see where it goes. To see what that land is like where the brightest thing in our world goes to rest.
"Father did not refuse. He gave me his blessing, along with all of his knowledge that he passed on to me throughout the years. This is how my journey began."
All of a sudden, it was Muddy's turn to giggle. Zecora frowned at him.
"Sorry!" he apologized quickly. "But, come on: 'where the sun goes to rest'? You do realize the sun doesn't 'rest' anywhere? It just keeps going around our world."
"Yes, I know," Zecora replied in a sombre tone. "I've known for a long time now. Perhaps even before we reached the ocean together. I knew I would always just be chasing after something I could never catch. And yet... I did not want to stop. I wanted to keep going. To go as far as I needed to until I found an answer." She chuckled herself now. "All I needed... was a direction. This one has served me well enough so far..."
"Okay... so why be so sad about it?" Muddy asked. "It's not like you have to stop now."
"I know. But what if I am wrong? What if I'm chasing some silly-filly dream while my whole life is passing me by?"
"Okay, now that's where you're wrong," he snapped. "Why would anything you've done so far be considered silly?"
The colt sat up.
"Silly filly, you always run, but cannot catch up to the sun," he said. "Here you are and all you've done. Are you still 'the helpless one'?"
Zecora blinked, unsure of how she should react.
"Here you are, like I said: halfway around the world," Muddy went on in a serious tone. "You've seen things and know things that hardly anypony else has ever seen or known in their lives. And you're not dumb, either. You are wise, Zecora. Not as wise as you will be, but wise enough that you should know all this.
"Who cares what that mark on your flank means?" He raised his voice somewhat. "Does mine mean anything? I sure would like to know! Maybe your 'purpose,' or whatever, is to travel. To see the world and gather everything that needs to be known about it into your head."
He grinned at that, though the zebra could tell it was forced, just to hide a different emotion. "Yeah... here, I'll translate your mark that way," Muddy said and pointed to her flank. "That big circle, the little arrows pointing outward? There's the sun. That's what you need to follow. Those circles or whatever inside? They show the sun circling around the world. That's what you need to do. Follow it around the world and see as much of it as you can, for as long as you can.
"Maybe that mark represents your path. The path that will take you to where you need to be. Maybe it even tells you how far you need to go." When the mare just gave him a puzzled look, he groaned and shook his head. "Ugh! Who the hay knows what it means? Does it really matter, anyway? Does a mark have to tell anypony how to live?"
Zecora looked away. She had nothing to reply. Seconds ticked by in silence, until they finally turned to face each other again. Muddy stared deeply into her eyes.
"There," he said and gave a genuine smile. "Any better now?"
She giggled again. "I think so."
"Good. Then let's get some sleep already..." he muttered, then gave a long yawn, turned over, and pulled his cloak over his back.
"Mu'we?" Zecora whispered.
"Hmm?"
"What about you?"
"What about me?" he muttered.
"Why are you out here, traveling with me?"
For several moments, he remained silent. Then it was his turn to sigh.
"I... ran away from home."
"Why? Did someone mistreat you?"
"No. Not really..." he stammered. "To be honest, I was more of the 'problem child' instead." He giggled awkwardly, then shook his head again. "Dad always said I will never make it in this life if I don't get my act together..."
Zecora listened without saying a word.
"I guess I showed him, huh?" Muddy went on, almost whispering now. "I think that's why I did it. To mess with him a little, then come back a few weeks later and tell him how I showed him. But I never did. I just kept going further and further, until... I ended up on that boat. The one we used to come here."
He paused for a moment.
"Giant waves beneath my hooves, I'll take you all to get my booze!"
Zecora raised an eyebrow. The colt before her giggled again.
"I guess there's a lot of poems you can learn from an alcoholic sailor on a three-month long trip..." he said.
"Do you have one for yourself?" she asked with a small grin.
He sighed again. "I wish I did..."
Zecora reached out with her hoof and patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"Wanderer, who walks alone," she whispered, "someday you might get back home."
Muddy let out a faint snore. Zecora smiled and turned her gaze up to the night sky, then thought back to that old ponies' tale.
'The moon,' she thought. 'The stars... especially the stars. They are all so beautiful...' Her eyes narrowed. 'How could they ever assist something so evil?'
Her eyelids felt heavy. She let them close slowly, though she only planned to give them a few moments of rest.
-----
-----
A cold breeze knocked her awake. She shifted around under her cloak a little and pulled it tighter over her body, then closed her eyes again. Sleeping on cold stone did not seem like such a good idea any more, "beautiful stargazing spot" aside.
She gave a slight moan of discomfort. The breeze just would not die down. In fact, it seemed to be getting stronger now.
'Is there a storm approaching?' she wondered.
A sudden burst of air nearly threw her across the chamber. Her eyes shot open, and she quickly checked her surroundings. The chamber was empty. There was no sign of Mu'we or any of their belongings.
She was alone.
The strength of the wind was now beyond measure. It howled all throughout the ruins and screamed straight into her ears. Faintly, she could hear it rip into the forest as well, the strength of it bending and twisting the branches out of shape, then doing the same to the trunks themselves. It seemed like a miracle that she still stood where she was.
'No. This is no miracle.'
Zecora looked up. She dreaded to do so, for she knew what she would see there, but she felt that she had no choice.
Up there, on the glowing white surface of the moon, she could see the mark of the Nightmare-creature. As if reacting to her gaze, the shadowy stain suddenly came to life. It leaped from the surface of the heavenly object straight toward the ground. Just above the lowest of the clouds in the night sky, the inky black apparition halted its descent and began to reform itself.
All around her, Zecora could now hear a different sound. It slowly emerged among the endless howling of the wind. Her blood ran cold when she recognized it.
Screaming. Thousands of voices from creatures of all kinds let out terrified screams and cries for help as the Nightmare came to life right before their eyes.
Coalescing ever so slowly, the black substance formed itself into a giant, four-legged, equine-like monster. Its body was not very much unlike a pony, though it seemed to have both wings and a horn. Its ethereal mane and tail wavered in a nonexistent breeze around its head, thousands of tiny motes of light drifting inside them. Its eyes glowed, and its mouth twisted into a menacing grin at the sound of every creature nearby screaming at its presence. A gigantic cloud of darkness began to swirl above its head, and the abomination let out a blood-curdling laugh, its cackling punctuated by the thunder from dozens of arcs of lightning all around it.
Their terror seemed to fill it with pleasure.
Spreading its large, pitch-black wings, the creature jumped from its stormcloud-throne and took off toward the east. The zebra watched, petrified by fear, as it disappeared over the forest canopy. A heartbeat later, the screams in that direction intensified for a moment, then went silent. She listened intently, but no more voices would come from there.
The Nightmare rose above the horizon once more and chose a new direction. It headed south this time. The process repeated: screams, followed by a chilling silence.
Thoughts raced in Zecora's mind as she tried to comprehend what was happening: 'No... this cannot be. This is all wrong!'
'But what can I do?'
'Hide. They need to hide!'
She ran out toward the northwestern edge of the ruins, then stood atop the remains of a once proud bastion, which was now reduced to its mere foundations and a few piles of debris. Gathering as much air into her lungs as she could, she screamed into the night:
"Be silent! Be still! The Nightmare approaches! Hide! You must hide!"
The screams intensified, though the creature did not reach them just yet. Zecora could hear the roar of its wings above her.
"Hide! Please!" she bellowed. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Quickly! Be silent! Hide!"
The screams began to die down. Her eyes widened, and she noticed the Nightmare pause in its advance as well. It turned its head left and right to search for its prey, then let out a furious scream when it could not find any.
Zecora breathed a sigh of relief.
'I've done it!'
Then the Nightmare turned its gaze straight at her.
Her legs were rooted into place as she watched the abomination lunge from the sky. It descended upon her at an impossible speed.
There was no running away from this. She smiled as she accepted her fate. Within moments, her vision was filled entirely by the Nightmare's visage.
A heartbeat later, everything turned black.
-----
Her eyes slowly fluttered open, then closed again. Her head ached, and she could feel the cloak draped over her hide again. That was all she needed to know. She was alive. Tired and scared out of her mind, but she was alive.
'It was just a bad dream.'
She looked up at the sky. The first rays of the sun were already painting the clouds in the sky a dull red. Her foreleg rubbed her eyes as she sat up and looked around. Everything was right where it should be. Nothing happened that night.
'Nothing, except...'
She let out a soft chuckle. The spot next to her was empty. Something did go missing after all.
She did not mind. There was a note left on her saddlebag. She did not read it, merely put it away. Her cloak found its way onto her back and head once more. Her hooves carried her out of the ruins, and she entered the forest again. She soon found herself on a path between the trees, which she decided to follow. Along the way, she took her time to carefully avoid a patch of bright blue flowers in the middle of the path. She has learned long ago not to trust anything in the wild that looks so obviously harmless.
The path ended in a small clearing, where she found herself standing before a large tree with a thick, slightly twisted trunk. Its branches were spread out like the tendrils of a giant, petrified beast. Its base was rather spectacularly wide, almost as big as that of her father's hut back home.
That last thought made her halt for a while. Staring at the tree, she began to ponder about all that she went through along her journey so far. There was no conclusion to come to, yet this tree has made her stop to think.
She picked up one of her small knives and carved a distinct, hoof-sized mark into its bark. The shape was embedded into her memory, and she smiled despite herself as her hooves instinctively trailed the tip of the blade along the imaginary lines: a pair of thick curves, parallel to each other, which formed an inverted, horizontally stretched out S-shape.
She then took out some of her powders and began applying them to the carved-out shape. The edges became dark brown, bright green surrounding them, blue in between. Not a perfect replica by far, but she was certain that everyone who would ever need to would be able to recognize it.
"Our journey together, it now must end," she whispered and placed a hoof on the mark. "Thank you forever, my dearest friend!"
Her work done, she collected her belongings again, saddled up, and ventured further into the woods. The sun slowly rose behind her.
-----
The Cutie Mark Crusaders slowly drifted awake.
"Uuugh... did we fall asleep, or something?" Apple Bloom asked sleepily. "What time is it?"
"Oh my gosh!" Sweetie Belle gasped. "The sun is already setting! Girls, we need to get home!"
"Yeah..." Scootaloo added, rubbing her eyes. She then frowned and turned to the zebra mare behind them, who was busy dousing the fire under the now empty pot. The room itself was no longer immersed in the greenish fog either.
"Hey, uhh... Zecora? Can I ask you something?"
"Hmm?" Zecora turned to face her.
"About what the colt said," Scootaloo went on. "Your mark?"
The mare nodded.
"It's not made up of circles. It's... a spiral."
"Yeah!" Apple Bloom joined in. "And a spiral is something that starts with a point and moves farther and farther away from it. It sounds just like your journey, Zecora!"
"Or," Sweetie Belle added, "a path that starts from outside and gets closer and closer to the center. In other words, the place where she's meant to be!"
"One thing Ah don't get, though," Apple Bloom said. "That colt said your mark describes how much farther you might have to go. Well, rather: had to go. And he also said it resembles the sun as it circles around, and..." She trailed off.
"Wait a minute..." Scootaloo's eyes went wide. "So that means... you've gone, and...?"
Zecora merely nodded and gave a soft smile.
"Go home now, and live your happy lives, before this poor zebra runs out of her rhymes."
The fillies hesitated for a moment, having trouble taking everything in all of a sudden. Eventually, they all just nodded, and one by one they slowly trotted out of Zecora's cabin. As they approached the path at the edge of the clearing, they turned around and waved her goodbye one last time, then disappeared into the forest. The zebra waved after them. She stayed put while they were still in sight, then started back for her front door.
She paused for a moment when her left ear twitched, then smiled to herself.
"Please, let nothing harm them until they get home," she whispered.
The door closed behind her. Zecora trotted calmly to the center of her room. She moved her large stove out of the way, then swept up the leftover charred logs and piles of ash on the floor. She then produced a long pole made out of bamboo and planted it firmly in the spot where her fireplace stood moments ago. Finally, she climbed up to the top of the pole and raised herself up with her forelegs.
Her body now upside-down, she lowered the top of her head onto the pole and used it to support her weight. The zebra mare carefully assumed the ideal pose, and as her mind began to ease into the depths of meditation, she smiled again.
After all, she thought and glanced out the window at the setting sun, who knows what may lurk in the forest these days?
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So you like Pink Floyd too, Awesome
3308764
I hope that's not all you got from this story...
No, I just noticed that when I first got here.
What happened to Muddy Water?
3309027
We may never know...
Wow, just wow. This has to be the first Zecora backstory I've have ever read. And then there's the molar to the story:
Ragdoll Out
3309137
Thanks!
Not sure about the "molar", though...
I want to know what happened to Muddy Water
3310671
If you don't know, you did not read it "hard enough"...
To be honest, though, there is no singular answer. What are your thoughts?
3310690
I don't know
I want a real answer, not a 'figure it out' ending :C
3310781
I don't really know either!
Very lovely and fascinating. Bravo.
3315992
Thank you!
Any specific observations?
3316046 Oh jeez, where to start. The opening with the Timberwolf was brilliant it felt very natural and really did sound like a predator. Zecora was great and using the powder and then tying it back later with the manticore was exceptionally well done. I loved the CMC's stories, especially Scoots. I also felt their concerns and anxieties about things changing was really well done. It felt very natural and appropriate for them to have those fears and definitely to confide them in Zecora. I also loved her cheering them up it really suited her well.
The story...oh god, her family was wonderful I loved the description of her roots and her reason to travel, it really felt fitting. Meeting Muddy was also terrific and I love the wanderers and how Zecora feels in her cloak, i really felt true to emotions and similar.
Their travels were really fun, you gave just enough to fill in detail but not so much as to drag it out. I loved her dream with Nightmare Moon and Muddy finally leaving. This section contains he only criticism I could think of. I wish you described Muddy's colours more as I had forgotten what he looked like by then. just a small mention would've really helped my immersion immensely.
I love how you didn't reveal the note's contents. It made it feel even better just being able to make up your own wording. I found the tree design bit confusing until the CMC at the and and then a few minutes after that. to confirm she marks the tree and comes back to set up home in it yes?
Them falling asleep was sweet but also felt a bit funny as it wasn't clear when she was telling the story when and if they fell asleep so that was a bit confusing but nothing bad.
Sufficient observations I trust?
3310781 To me the answer is that he goes back home to make amends with his Father. He leaves Zecora the note saying thank you for helping him realize that an wishing her luck on his travels.
3316189>>3316194
YES! LENGTHY FEEDBACK!
More or less. I deliberately avoided declaring anything explicitly, so everyone can come to their own conclusions (though I doubt that the details I have provided can actually suggest a wide variety of interpretations...
)
Same as above. That powder is some strange stuff. For all we know, not all of the story was presented by Zecora's illusions...
Hmm... good point. I must have been dreading Lavender Unicorn Syndrome by then...
We may never know...
The following review is brought to you by Zero Punctuation Reviews.
Y'know, if anyone is tired of me constantly bring up "Dream-Whisper-Story", it is me. I feel like the lowly concubine trapped in the palace of that one-eyed king as it defeats it's blind challengers week to week. I find myself dreaming of a handsome stranger (not gay) to march in, pop the chunky bastard and carry me away from here. And lo, did "To Catch Up With The Sun" by my constituent DarkAvenger burst into the throne room as that handsome stranger, sporting two eyes and a chrome revolver. So you, dear reader, might find yourself as disheartened as I was when the handsome stranger tripped, fell flat on his face and slunk out of the room in embarrassment and nose blood.
With that being said, at the end of the day "To Catch Up With The Sun" is pretty good. It's rare enough for a fanfic to actually be pleasant to read, let alone one that I can say I enjoyed without any massive qualifying statements. "To Catch Up With The Sun" definitely kicks the shit out of "Dream-Whisper-Story" in the mechanics of writing aspect, but its story is significantly weaker by being bogged down with the dead weights of unrelated plot points and cliche. The missteps in the theme department discouraged me personally, but I might possible be the only one in the universe that gives a shit about that kind of thing.
The mechanics of writing aspect:
DarkAvenger is actually a pretty good writer if you find the unqualified words of a complete stranger to be creditable. The story opens with an absorbing segment involving a timberwolf that really establishes a tone and starts the action. The scene doesn't really go anywhere, more on that later, but if you take the individual scenes out of the context of the story and examine them independently, there's some really great stuff here. The action scenes are particularly delicious, but dialectics demand there be an antithesis so the beautiful action scene has two evil, disfigured step sisters plotting his downfall - played here by exposition and background description.
If you recall the axioms I spelled out on my blog that no reads (accessible via my user page that no one visits), the third reads 'All lines must, apart from provide information, either reveal character or advance the action'. Apart from the rather enthralling opening timberwolf sequence, "The Ketchup On The Buns" method on scene-setting is to bring the roller coaster to a screeching halt to describe the scenery in the manner of a emotionally malformed tour guide that would rather be fucking anywhere else.
You see, the little background-building segments provide only information with no further meaning or interest, and I found myself beginning to skip over them to get back to the intriguing parts that did the advancing-action/revealing-character shit. When "Locked Up With The Runs" remembers that it's a story with character drama and an overarching plot, it gets pretty good, but it has to constantly has to stick my face back into the stinky bucket of underdeveloped exposition before I really start to get invested. The setting should be established while stuff is happening, you can't just stop and describe a flower field before folks do stuff in the flower field.
These little explanatory puddles that smack the pacing around could've been tolerable if they at least got the job done. There's a huge difference between vague and mystique; mystique still has distinct detail and usually has a huge impact on the plot. Vague is malnourishment - the imagination is not appropriately fed and thus the descriptions become muddled and confused. A prime example is about halfway through when a green smoke appeared and… moved around the room, I guess?Then it acted as a movie screen for Zecora's memory… or something. Wait, can Zecora project her memories on shit? What's going on!? These segments need more clear and distinct language.
The story-telling aspect:
Let's begin by restating that the story is by no means bad nor is it not worth your time, but I feel like it can see the ever shining light of "profound" but can't quite reach due to a few plot issues and slop. One little thing that gets on my tits are plot points introduced and explained but really have nothing to do with anything. Such things tear into the narrative. You see, them CMC's show up and serves as the framing device by being the audience for Zecora's story.
Part of the charm of the three characters is that their talents are blatantly obvious and they serve as a parallel for the propensity of youngsters to ignore their own innate talents to explore ones more favored by society, and having the story just come out and say that kinda fucks up the symbolism. Also, why is so much time devoted to the framing device with the rather absorbing intro timberwolf sequence and the one-paragraph monologues on how they got their cutie marks when neither really has anything to do with the rest of the plot? The post-cutie-mark CMC are unnecessary and could easily have work with them being pre-cutie-mark with sacrificing the impact a 'coming-of-age' story would have on them. Also, why are they going to talk to Zecora? Apple Bloom is the only one that has any kind of relationship with her, I don't remember the other two even having a scene with her, so why are they there? It seems the framework could've worked better with just Apple Bloom seeking Zecora's advice on obtaining cutie marks - maybe dragging her friends along - then we could've cut to the far more interesting Zecora story rather than waste time talking about how they obtained their cutie marks.
The reason why I rate story over the specific mechanics of writing is because in the end the reader will remember is how the story made them feel. And I left "To Critique It Then Be Done" disappointed. Apart from the scenes that add nothing to the plot, the story felt like it was winding up for a big theme that never came. It had all the tools it needed to make a quite profound statement, one reinforced by the themes looming around the CMC as well as that excellent Pink Floyd song, and I was left wanting a spiritual journey that didn't happen. As for the story Zecora told, I'm underwhelmed. It's that very same 90's Disney movie you've seen a 100 times. It's riddled with cliche, Zecora doesn't get to make any really effective decisions, and Muddy Rudder or whatever was too under-characterized for me to really care about him. I suppose you can never really be fully free of Mr. Cliche, but don't make him hold up your plot points and OCs. Mr. Imagination, Mr. Substance and Mr. Characterization should do that.
It's amazing that as something approaches the threshold of excellence, the more glaring issues become. But "The Batch Is Up With The Huns" is still pretty good, and despite the previous ranting I still like it. DarkAvenger, if you could clean up the description a bit, drop the cliche, have Zecora make narrative-driving decisions and give your work something profound to say (borrow from that Pink Floyd song), then you will have a truly excellent story - and I will be all over that shit like a cat on discarded Christmas wrapping paper. Until then, accept the twitterdickian badge of "pretty good". Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to ripping off Kurt Vonnegut and being a hypocrite.
3496649
Not going to use any emoticons to speak for me this time. Let me just say this: your review made me smile all the way through. And no matter how deep it cuts, I have to remind myself that these are still the most helpful observations, since they point out what is wrong with my story, instead of just maybe tossing me a few words of praise, or perhaps even abuse. I am equally thankful for all of those things, of course, but a complete and ruthless dissection is truly the most informative.
All that said, I think without going into a lengthy argument about all the things that you have pointed out, I only need to mention that your most important observation was the "vagueness vs. mystique" one. Indeed, on their own, quite a few elements of this story may seem unnecessary, drawn out, cliched, or just out of place (despite being quite good otherwise), such as the opening scene that everyone seems to keep bringing up. I attempted to merely hint at some of the most important elements of this story, and even left quite a few things open-ended, rather than just go ahead and explicitly point them out and tie up every "loose end."
I guess what I'm trying to say is that, when it comes to my writing, the "words that I show you" aren't really the important details (they merely point you at them), which is why I even let myself get away with using cliches from time to time, as long as they are actually just a part of a bigger picture. To provide an example: that opening scene? As good as it may be when it comes to "building atmosphere" and all that, it's actually just a fancy decoration for a little "mystery" that I tried to set up. Without giving away too much, I would suggest trying to read that and the ending scene together (if you're interested at all...) Maybe you'll spot it. Maybe not...
If the things described above did not find themselves within your impression of my story, however, then that simply means I have completely and pathetically failed in this regard...
Still, I am most grateful that you took the time to let me know about that. Thank you very much! Also, you forgot to add the header, you stupid bellend!
3497791
Oops. Totally forgot about the banner. Fixed!
I'm glad you enjoyed (for lack of a better word) meh review, and I think I understand what you're saying. I do get a teeny, weeny sense of a 'bigger picture', but there wasn't enough presented to make me actively think about a bigger picture. I suppose I might be a complete idiot - there's more than enough evidence to support that claim - but I don't feel like I was given enough juicy detail to create a sense of mystique or make 'bigger picture' conclusions. I'm not saying that you have to point to the bigger picture and draw our attention to it, just leave enough of it out in the open for us to see clearly and become interested in - if that makes sense.
Also, I don't think that you should ever sacrifice the flow, uniqueness or feel of the story for the 'bigger picture'. If segments make your audience raise their eyebrows or get confused, they won't even start to really analyze the events and symbolism. I'm not entirely convinced that the story works on its own without any special 'bigger picture', let alone with one. And to reiterate, I can feel the story reaching for something profound and beautiful but I just don't think it quite gets there. I personally was sucked out by the vagueness, exposition and cliche; you always found ways to suck me back in, but the audience needs to be super immersed before you can pull off the bigger picture stuff, and I personally think that moar detail that reinforces the plot and hints at the bigger picture and less cliche will really improve things.
You still made a really good story, and I think with some more polish it can truly become a great one. There's still a lot that I like here, and I think you've got a great head on your shoulders and a ton of potential - if the words of a total stranger on the internet mean anything to you.
Happy writing!
3500071
To be honest, that's kind of how I felt, too (if I may permit myself this amount of vanity...) This story was a sort of "stepping stone" for me. A "turning point," if you will. The first one that I consider to be a truly "good" work of mine, and yet still not quite there...
If you take a look at the stories awaiting review, by the way, you might bump into some more juicy stuff...
And Mu'we never existed - like Tyler Durden from Fight Club. He was only a product of Zecora's mind.
3550476
Never thought of it that way before...
Or did I?
Well, that's an interesting story... I like the idea of exploring Zecora's backstory, and you did a very nice job of it.
3552340
Thank you!
Now I'd really love to see Zecora - this Zecora - having a bit of talk with Princess Celestia.
3554297
Well, who knows what else has happened during Zecora's journey?
3558522
Well, make it a sequel. A short one-shot.
3558542
There is something in the works, but I can't say it will be released anytime soon...
I was in the process of typing up an extensive in-depth review, but discontinued post-haste upon noticing TwitterDick's thorough scrutiny. I will, however, refute and amplify certain statements, and amend a few of my own.
--Describing the setting before commencing with the action does not poor pacing make. "Setting the stage" is a writing technique used by many adept wordsmiths, like, oh, say, William Shakespeare for one. Most authors who have worked extensively writing for stage tend to use this method, and there's nothing inherently wrong with "describing the flower field" first. It allows further focus on the action without throwing in snippets of background adjectives. Granted, there are a few swaths in the story where it slows a little too much.
All in all, it is not a major issue.
--Along that vein, vague narrative conclusions aren't inherently bad, as long as ambiguity is an integral element of the narrative. Throwing in a Philip K. Dick ending when it's unexpected or not properly built up to, however, is either inexperienced or (worse) lazy authoring. In my experience as a professional author, this is only effective in "crapsack world" or "deeply philosophical" narratives. This is not one.
There were a lot of potential moral Chekov's Guns set up throughout, and none of them were effectively fired. I'm a big fan of said literary device, and when I saw the little tidbits you were weaving into the early portion of her story-in-story, I was excited. Then... what? No accurate reflection? Thus, the ending comes off a bit like a "screw this, I'm done" shrug. The attempt, though, was admirable. We can't all be James Joyce (all the time). This is the issue with this work.
--Premise. Ah, premise. This has it in spades. The core of the work is sterling, which is why I bothered reviewing it at all. Several parts of Zecora's backstory are positively aurelite. However, they are strangled by the meandering climactic direction and the aforementioned ending. It was like the coaster stalled on the last hill. Here's the kicker; the reason I ultimately cannot dislike it. It finds it's premise and adheres to it. The pace may meander, but the core narrative focus does not, and that is the prime category by which most fiction stands or falls. It states what it wants to do, and it goes for it. It isn't entirely effective, but it remained on the correct flight path. It's not a complete exculpation, but it makes up for a lot.
Minor Gripes:
-That timberwolf had a pretty impressive sense of deductive logic. And way too much screen time.
-For all she knew, he might be the first person outside her home that was worth getting to know.
*P... person?
And she wandered Equestria with one of my favorite blues artists. I hope he left an autograph. It would have been immensely satisfying if his voice was described as "gravelly, distant, and bluesy".
Ultimate verdict: +like
I am a prolixious twit.
3561258
Thank you for your comment!
I think the best response that I can give is the one I gave to twitterdick: This story was a milestone for me, which had both its ups and downs. On one hand, I was moving into certain territories that were far more interesting than the stuff I did before, but on the other I was still making painfully many beginner's mistakes.
To be honest, since I haven't really had any experience with them, I can't say very much about the authors that you've mentioned (that, and I tend not to put other authors' names into my argument...
) The only thing I could say is that my primary inspiration is Hemingway. I'm not saying I'm an expert on him, nor am I saying that my garbage is anything compared to his works, just that I'm trying to aim for his kind of storytelling. A story that isn't as much "vague" as "a story that seems to be about nothing in particular," but only at a first glance, the "deeper things" coming to light only once you decide to inspect things a little more closely. Of course, like I said: if that wasn't your impression of this story, then I have failed in my attempt... 
My thinking was something like this: "Sure, I could come up with an exciting, plot-twist-filled adventure (and what better premise is there to work with than this one?) with a very clear arc from beginning to end, but that just feels cheap, overdone, and uninteresting somehow. It's the equivalent of having Yoda, the "wise Jedi master" we know from The Empire Strikes Back, participate in a lightsaber fight and jump around like a hyperactive garden gnome. To me, Zecora seems like a far more subtle character than that. I wasn't interested in her "adventures" (as the story obviously shows). The questions that I wanted answers to were things like this: Why is she the one doing the "magic show" during Nightmare Night? Why does she wear a cloak? Why did she travel away from home and move into the Everfree Forest? Why does she speak in rhymes? (And the answer I wanted to this last one was something a lot less "mystical" and more "down to earth")
I have yet to figure out why that timberwolf scene was the most memorable thing to everyone...
Well, aside from the fact that it's at the very beginning, where not everyone has fallen asleep just yet...
Zecora is using "person" as a collective term for all races (i.e ponies, zebras, minotaurs, etc.)
There's a funny little story behind this. The deadline for the contest was approaching fast, and I still had no idea what I was going to name the guy. All that I knew was that he's based on a certain person who is, among other things, also a fan of artists such as Muddy Waters or Howlin' Wolf, so I decided to use the first name that came to mind when I thought about said person, and that happened to be the former. It was only later when I realized that the song placed into this story (which was also an inspiration/influence/motivator) contains the lyrics "the muddy water runs". Whether it was my subconscious playing tricks on me again (I did listen to the song while writing the story, but did not pay much attention to the lyrics), or just a coincidence, I may never know...
All that said, no, not exactly a "blues artist", but perhaps the next best thing (once you actually figure out who it is...)
Anyway, thank you again for your help and attention! Also, throwing in a ton of "words I found in a thesaurus" is a bit like adding lens flare to a picture, especially if it was not created using a camera...
3561495
Correct me if I'm wrong, but if you boil everything down to base elements, the essential point is "Shit happens." More acutely, "Despite our best efforts, things occur in the course of our lives. There isn't always a straightforward explanation, but we continue on regardless."
Or: "Shit happens."
And that's the premise I referencing, which it frames accurately, but... well... clumsily.
How far off am I?
3561594
To be honest, I have no idea...
I like to believe there's no singular interpretation of this story. Everyone can walk away from it with whatever they choose to take with them (i.e emphasize). Some were interested in Muddy Water. Others wanted to know more about Zecora. Almost everyone wants that freaking timberwolf...
All that said, I think your view is just as valid as any other. Well, okay... "shit happens" may indeed be a little off the mark, but denying it would only serve to narrow the scope of this story.
If I may permit myself this much "vagueness", then I suggest you don't just look at the actual plot. It is merely a path that connects the scenes and carries us between them. The important stuff is hidden within those scenes, and not just on the path itself...
What did the note say? I didn't really get the ending.
3562234
It says whatever you might think it says...
you know reading this it comes to mind that this has so much description it may just be Charles Dickens reincarnated
3649564
Okay... but is that good or bad?
I mean, even if that were true, then it would mean that he has lost his talent...
Nah, I actually need to cut back a little on the lengthy descriptions. While they don't wander into "purple prose territory" in my opinion, they are still kind of bogging down the narrative.
3650560
it is neither good nor bad it simply depends on the preference of the reader some people do like this much description though I may not and that is just my personal preference.
i14.photobucket.com/albums/a331/brittmcgee/MLP%20Minecraft/TLSOA_zps2aa17c49.png
3950034
3.bp.blogspot.com/-xY3Yy9tFxcA/UD_VtrronMI/AAAAAAAAAyk/UxIrWRbEkps/s640/twilight%2Bsparkle%2Byes.gif
3496649 In regards to your comment about why Apple Bloom would wish to take the other CMC to see Zecora to tell her about getting their Cutie Marks: At the end of the Cutie Pox episode, they are seen running off to see Zecora (who had apparently just left to go back home herself) about getting a cutie mark in mixing potions. This point never seems to have been expanded upon, but does seem to prove that all of the CMC have been to Zecora's place at least once. It may well been during this time that they all hit it off even though it is never quite explored.
4122712
To be honest, I didn't even remember that as I was writing this...
It's good to know that I was right all along, though. Suck it, 3496649 !
4122712
4122765
*seppuku*
Hmmm... I was going to post the link to Gonzo's reading of this, but it appears you already have it.
Great story, I just wish Gonzo's read wasnt so long
4617601
Thank you! As for the reading, the fact that it exists already makes me happy...
I came here expecting a beautiful story. I was not disappointed.
5388257
Glad I could be of service.
I wasn't sure what I'd make of this (partly because it has no genre tags
) but I feel it's one of the better Zecora fics around. Her backstory was certainly the most interesting part of the story, and I didn't see anything there that felt forced or unbelievable -- except maybe her companion not reading the note. (I'm sure Zecora suspected what it would say, but know for sure?) As with almost all Zecora fics, it does hit the problem of page after page of rhyming being a little wearying to read, but I'm glad I read it and I'm more than happy to give it a like.
5588975
Thank you for the comment. I gave it no tags because there is no "normal" tag (yes, I know "Slice of Life" counts as the "normal" tag, but that just didn't feel right). "Adventure" might have been a good alternative, but it wasn't quite action-packed enough for that in my opinion.
As for the note... well, it's a mystery even to me. Maybe all it read was "had to go potty, will be back in 5 mins"?
5590243 I think "Adventure" would be reasonable, especially for the flashback stuff, but of course it's your call. As for the note... I really, really wish I hadn't seen that line. :P