A Strange New Pony in Town

by Dark Dienen

Chapter 8

“So… this is the big, bad Everfree Forest, huh? Eesh, I can see why nopony would want to come here.”

As strange as it felt saying such a thing, given that he’d found himself stuck in far more precarious or dangerous situations before, Xarzith had to admit that it summed up his thoughts on the forest quite accurately.

The north was a miserable place, and that was putting it lightly; it was snowy and cold in the mountains nearly all year round, and had been so on the plains too up until the empire had returned. You were constantly at risk of accidently stepping on a sleeping ice wraith’s tail, and then having to run like Tartarus from said ice wraith. Or, if you were really unlucky, you might try and escape an out-of-the-blue blizzard by diving into the nearest cave… only to discover that it was home to a frost dragon.

But none of those unnerved Xarzith like the forest around him did. He’d grown up dealing with such hazards, and knew how to avoid or escape such situations if it came to such, but the forest and its dangers were completely alien to him.

He huffed and shook his head. “Just stay on path and you’ll be fine,” he muttered, gazing around the dense mass of trees and greenery.

In every direction there was a wall of tree twisting trunks, fallen branches, and all manner of thick foliage, the combination resulting in the walk along the path feeling more like a walk down a long corridor. The leaves prevented most of the sun’s light piercing the forests canopy, which in turn gave rise to eerie shadow forms which would dance about with the movement of trees in the wind, the occasional animal noise or set of glowing eyes adding to the unnerving show.

It wasn’t exactly a forest that was brutally terrifying or anything, knock on wood, but it felt unnatural in every sense of the word. Flitter had gone on about how it was a ‘wild’ place, where the plants grew as they pleased, the weather acted as it saw fit, and the animals fended for themselves. Those were nothing really new to him, the entire north was wild, but there was something in the air of the forest that rubbed his coat all the wrong ways.

It was like the forest itself was a living, breathing creature, and it didn’t like outsiders coming in, exploring it, and poking at its secrets.

The fact of the matter was that Xarzith couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, and having a white coat in the middle of a dark forest meant that if anything was looking around, he was impossible to miss.

“I swear I’m going crazy,” Xarzith snorted to himself, inspecting the side of tree a growing beside the path, before tapping on it a few times; as expected, the tree didn’t react in the slightest. “Tch, nothing unusual about you.”

Shaking his head, the stallion continued onwards with a little more confidence.

As he went deeper, surprisingly, the otherwise crude dirt path stayed fairly free of fallen logs and debris, drawing Xarzith to the conclusion that this zebra, Zecora, must’ve either been very picky about the state of the path that led to her front door, or she was a popular source of potions and alike with the residents of Ponyville.

As he walked, that thought eventually gave rise to other ponderings for the stallion, one of them specifically about something they shared in common.

Perhaps having been accepted into regular pony society, she would have some advice on how to… come out, so to speak, and perhaps a few tips on how to make sure that the locals of Ponyville didn’t go jumping out of their skins when the time came. Flitter had happened mentioned that Zecora hadn’t exactly been received with outstretched hooves when she’d moved to Ponyville, but nowadays she was as much a part of the town as the likes of Applejack and Twilight.

“Hmmf, wonder if I’ll ever be a part of Ponyville?”

Although he didn’t stop, Xarzith chewed his lip after saying the words. There was something about Ponyville that resonated with him, some part that made him want to stay far more so than any of the other towns before.

He closed his eyes and scrunched up his muzzle. Was it the weather? Not really. Was it the idea of finally being able to ‘put some roots down’, as Flitter had said? Maybe. Was it the fact that he had ponies he called friends? That was some part of it, a large part even… but thinking it over, the real reasoned seemed to be that Ponyville was different, unique almost.

Equestria was a peaceful place, but that didn’t mean it didn’t have problems. The Crystal Empire was just getting back on its hooves after a thousand years, the big cities he’d seen were where a pony only got lost in the crowd, and most of the smaller towns seemed either stuck in the past or anchored in tradition.

Ponyville though was different; you weren’t just somepony or a stranger, you were a friend and everypony was your friend. You were as much a part of the town as the town was a part of you.

“Yeah, I think I could get used to Ponyville.” Xarzith smirked to himself, opening his eyes again to the world around him.

Upon doing so though, he stopped in his tracks as his brain processed what his eyes were seeing.

A house or what he presumed was supposed to be a house anyway, stood at the end of the path up ahead, the road pausing at its front before snaking its way further into the Everfree.

The building reminded him of the library in Ponyville, what with it apparently being a living space hollowed into a still living and growing tree, but this one retained it natural qualities far more so than Twilight’s home did. A few coloured bottles hung suspended from the branches by lines of string, while a strange and somewhat unnerving wooden mask stood guard by the door.

“Well… this is going to be interesting,” the stallion muttered to himself, gingerly approaching the door.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Zecora sang softly to herself as she watched over her potion, a bubbling green liquid to rid one’s home of pests and vermin. Every now and then the liquid would bubble close to the rim of her cauldron, and each time it did she’d add a few more spoons of sulphur, a smile on her face with the knowledge that it was so far so good.

It didn’t exactly smell like dandelions at the height of spring, but she was used to such scents, as her talent and occupation demanded her to be. Plus she’d made sure to light a few scented candles when she’d started, which had offered some reprieve.

Her eyes took a moment to glance between the boiling liquid in her cauldron, and the tome which contained the recipe, just to make sure her memory hadn’t failed her, her tongue continuing its song as she did so.

“From darkest night to golden dawn,”

“From all these days my hooves are worn,”

“But for many more I will travel,”

“So I might see the world’s mysteries unravel,”

The words were in her native tongue, but there wasn’t anything special or magical about the tune, nor did it influence her brew in the slightest, as some ponies might’ve believed. No, the tune was simply a song she remembered from her long-gone youth, back when travellers would pass through her otherwise quiet village, telling their stories and teaching their songs in exchange for some small hospitality from her tribe.

She exhaled as she blew some of the steam off. Equestria was nice, there was no denying that, but its residents still seemed stuck in an age where ponies knew only ponies. Zebrica was acknowledged by all as her kind’s land, but among and beside them would freely live all manner of others, from the graceful antelope to the warrior lion prides, all living in a state of relative harmony in the savannah landscaped country. Sadly, the same could not always, nor truly be said for Equestria.

“I left it not that long ago, but still I miss my homeland so,” she sighed to herself as she put her spoon down, heading for a nearby shelf.

Though she was stopped, and her path redirected, by an abrupt knock at her door.

After blinking in surprise, the zebra took a moment to check over her coat, before swiftly trotting over and pulling it open, half expecting to see Twilight Sparkle, or perhaps the youngest member of the Apple family. There pony who stood at her door, however, was neither of the two, nor was he a pony she recognized.

He was a unicorn, that much was made obvious by his horn, with unusual red eyes and a mane perhaps a little darker than her friend Rainbow Dash’s hide. His coat, despite being damp and speckled with plenty of mud, was almost marble white, a far cry from the darkness and gloom of the surrounding forest.

She cocked an eyebrow; strangely enough, and although she didn’t spend huge amounts of time in town, she couldn’t remember having sighted him on her any of her previous visits.

Still, she smiled and inclined her head to him all the same. “A pony who I’ve yet to see with my eyes, pray tell, what is the meaning of this pleasant surprise?” the zebra asked, making sure to put emphasis on ‘pleasant’.

Even more to her surprise, what with most ponies being flipping out when they met her, a white hoof was extended in greeting.

“Name’s Xarzith,” he offered, sound perhaps a tiny bit apprehensive. “And I’ve been told you’re, uh, in the potion business, so I was hoping that you might be able to help me out with something.”

The zebra’s smile turned genuine. “I am Zecora, and this is my home,” she replied, chuckling. “And if it is a potion or cure you are looking for, then you have certainly found the right door.”

Before the conversation could progress further, a loud bubbling pop resounded from inside, reminding the zebra that her brew needed tending to.

She blushed when Xarzith’s ears flicked at the sound. “Ah, you’re forgiveness I must ask, for I am right now in the middle of another task,” she said. “Come, make yourself comfortable in my living room, and I will tend to your needs very soon.”

Turning, she swiftly led the stallion inside, though she made sure to keep her head angled and an eye on him.

The pony seemed to find her home and it’s decor a curiosity, as his red eyes were constantly spanning the walls and their content, from her many stocked potions to the ingredients that hung drying from the roof of her hut. They seemed to linger a little longer on her tribal masks more than anything... though he didn’t seemed unnerved or uneased by them, but rather curious, a fact that made her ears twitch.

“Do you make these?” he asked, indicating to one of her timber masks. “Sorry, just noticed that you have quite a collection.”

Zecora smirked to herself, making a mental note to ask Twilight Sparkle about this pony the next time they met; a pony with an interest in her home’s decor was an uncommon thing, especially in a place like Ponyville.

“All are mine, that is the truth, but all were gathered in my youth. My hooves are good for making potions and such, but when it comes to carving… not so much,” she smirked at the sight of one. “They make some ponies quiver in their skin, but to me they are a reminder of my kin,” she said, taking the necessary moment to check her previous brew before turning back to her visitor. “Now then, potions are my specialty as I say. So for whatever help you need, please ask away.”

He reached into his saddlebag, and after a moment or so of rummaging around its contents, pulled out a scrap of parchment.

Smiling in silent understanding, Zecora took it from the stallion when it was offered and unrolled in on her table, running her eyes carefully over the contents. She recognized all of the plants he’d specified, though to see the names of some of them actually there did surprise her.

“Of these herbs I have most, though only in a small dose,” she said simply as she looked up at her guest, before going down the list again. “They are seldom used in my potion craft, for to risk use by untrained hooves would be daft… hmm, pray tell my stallion friend, to what means is your end?”

The pony chewed his lip. “It’s… a little bit complicated. And kind of personal.”

Again, the Zebra nodded in understanding as she re-read the list; there were certain potions that a pony would be embarrassed about taking, or would not want to admit to taking at all, even for a good reason. Stallions in particular.

“Very well, I will see what I can find, but for one thing here I am in a bind,” she spun the list over on the table, a hoof pointing to one ingredient in particular. “Frost Rose petals you can’t buy for any price, they grow only in earth beneath the coldest ice.”

Much to her surprise, the pony opposite her just smirked and shook his head. “Those I should be able to take care of,” he said, apparently either missing or ignoring her look.

Pushing any further questions to the back of her head, particularly the one about just how a run-of-the-mill stallion would be able to get such an ingredient, the Zebra began hunting through her crowded shelves for the various herbs and reagents that she did have, her eyes darting between her many containers and the scrap of paper she’d been given.

Though something began bugging her as she got further down the scrawled list, a feeling which only seemed to grow with each reagent she found that had Xarzith wanted, until the realization finally managed to hit her like a bucket of cold water.

Different creatures reacted differently to different plants, that was common enough knowledge, but only those with years’ worth of experience would know anything about it in the detail that she did. One such detail that she did know, from many, many years spent brewing potions for just about every need imaginable, was the likely effects that some ingredient or rather would have on the magic of each of the pony tribes, and in turn how their magic in their bodies would react to the plant’s own magic.

Her issue with Xarzith’s list, to put it simply, was that half of the ingredients he’d listed were avoided by unicorns, all of them because the plant had a habit of reacting badly with unicorn magic.

“Your intentions you may not wish to tell, but you do know that some of these can make you unwell,” she said, peering over her shoulder at the stallion. He was standing and waiting patiently, eyes running over yet more of her tribal masks. “Some of these and unicorn magic do not mix, and that is not just me playing tricks.”

Xarzith shook his head. “Not when you’ve been using them as long and regularly as I have,” he said, before offering a dry snort. “Though I don’t doubt what you’re saying. I remember when I used too much hock’s bane once. Ugh, that wasn’t a fun week,” he gave her what she assumed to be a reassuring smile when she arched an eyebrow. “Look, Zecora, don’t worry yourself too much. I’ve done this plenty of times, trust me.”

After a long moment, the zebra just rolled her eyes. “If you are sure, I will say no more. Though do not blame me if you stomach pulls up sore.”

Xarzith breathed a small sigh of relief as she turned her attention back to her shelves, glad that she’d bought his half-truth; sure, he’d been guzzling down ‘dangerous’ potions since before he could remember, so his body had built up some resistance to their less desirable effects… though the nature of his body had more to do with that then any long-time usage.

Huffing at the thought, the white stallion collapsed back on his hind end as the zebra continued about her gathering.

As much as he hated to admit it, the knowledge that he was, even now, doing everything in his power to deceive both somepony who was helping him out, as well as Ponyville in general, left a sour taste in his mouth. It might have been necessary, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“You look like you’ve broken something that cannot be mended. Forgive me, but did my words by chance leave you offended?”

Looking up, Xarzith found the Zebra watching him from over her shoulder, her expression reading somewhere between the lines of curiosity and concern.

The stallion exhaled and shook his head. “Na, I’m just… I’m just thinking over a few things,” he answered, before holding up a hoof. “And before you ask, no, it doesn’t have anything to do with me needing these reagents.”

“Hmmf, perhaps not, but you look downtrodden I fear,” she said, recorking a bottle full of dried red flowers. “So please, allow this zebra to lend you her ear. Potions are my talent, that I will not deny, but I am a good listener too, so if I may pry...”

The zebra trailed off without looking away, sprouting an uneasy feeling in Xarzith’s stomach.

After another long moment of keeping his muzzle shut, Xarzith gave in. “It’s just that, well, I’m new in town,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck with a hoof. “And… and I heard about how you were treated when you came here. And I wanted to ask you about how to fit in, but...”

“But how to go about this, you do not know?” she answered, her ears now perking up. “Or whether you should try to do so fast or slow? For you heard about what greeted me, and you do not wish to go through that same misery?”

The stallion nodded, and while exhaling, pulled his blue mane apart with his hoof, allowing the zebra to see the true nature of his horn. As he’d expected, her eyes widened a little at the sight.

Though before Xarzith could say or do anything else, and before he truly knew what was going on, Zecora gathered his ingredients into individual small bags, and then stuffed them within a larger woven sack, easily big enough to fit a watermelon he was sure.

Except rather than handing the thing to him, and then pushing him towards the door, the zebra dropped it on the floor beside his foreleg, and then headed for one of her other shelves, this one filled with books rather than jars of leaves, flowers, or roots.

All the while Xarzith just sat there and blinked.

“What you have been told is true, my stallion friend, my presence near Ponyville once did offend,” she said finally, her eyes scanning the new shelves for an as yet unknown book. “Like you, I left my home to settle here, and yes, at first I was greeted by nothing but fear. The ponies would run and lock their doors at the sight of me, as if I were some evil born out of the Everfree. The conversations I had were few and far between, and even those were mostly just ponies saying that I shouldn’t be seen.”

Xarzith winced at the tale. “So… what changed that made everypony, well, uh...” he searched for the right words, hoping that whatever came out of his muzzle didn’t offend the zebra. “That made everypony see you as one of them. Part of Ponyville and all.”

Zecora glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “The truth, of course.”

Xarzith folded his ears back. “The truth?” he asked, confused at both the statement, and how simply she said it.

“Yes, you should face your problem at its source.” Zecora paused for a moment, and then pulled a large red book from one of her shelves, this one seemingly newer than the rest. Balancing it on her head, she trotted back to him. “I managed to befriend a little filly, and soon everypony saw their fears of me were just silly. I wasn’t some evil who wished to eat colts and fillies, rather just a mare that made potions and remedies,” she sighed wistfully at the memory. “The circumstances were not ideal, nor particularly pleasant for any, but before I had no friends, and now I have many.”

The book was laid out on the table between the two of them, and Xarzith quickly understood why the book had looked so new compared to all the others.

It was a photo album, one that contained the captured scenes of Zecora’s life amongst the residents Ponyville. Some were shots taken at what he presumed to be Pinkie Pie’s parties, the cakes and tables lined with food in the background demonstrating as such, while others were simply shots of her and a pony or two, namely either Twilight or Applebloom, the backgrounds either matching her house or some other location around Ponyville.

In each and every one the zebra was smiling, as was the pony or ponies standing at her side, none of them showing any apprehension of being near her.

“Not that I’m ungrateful that you showed me this, but how does it help me exactly?” he asked, looking up from the pages.

“Because you are afraid of something that isn’t so, and that is your fear of being asked to go. You believe that these ponies would push you away, but I know that they wouldn’t behave that way...”

Xarzith rolled his eyes at that. “You’d be surprised,” he thought sourly.

Apparently the zebra noticed, as she snorted and put a hoof on his forehead. “You are a pony and they are too, but your fear is that they will not like the real you,” she tapped his horn before replacing the hoof. “Get to know them for them, before anything else, but also let them get to know yourself. Who you are is who they will befriend, and after time all of your worries will end. Your outside is what is fueling your doubts, but really it is your inside that counts.”

She exhaled and shook her head. “Doubt me if you must, but in my words I have trust. Tell them your story, tell them who you are, even tell them of where you were born afar. Perhaps then you will see what I am trying to say, lest you wish to keep living with fear this way.”

As the last words rang in his ears, the stallion chewed his lip as he thought over what he’d been told. What Zecora was saying, even in rhyme, made logical sense, but...

“What if… what if who I am is... even more unusual than just this damn thing?” he asked, indicating to his forehead.

“I am a zebra, as you can see, but does that mean that they treat me differently?” Zecora smirked, tapping chest, her prior annoyance seemingly all but forgotten. “The ponies of Ponyville now know me as Zecora, their friend, not the scary zebra who’d curse them, should they offend.”

She pointed at the page of pictures to emphasize her point, before turning the hoof on Xarzith.

“Now, if I, a zebra, can change the attitudes of a whole town of ponies, just by helping a few, what is there stopping you?”

The stallion fidgeted under her combined look and point. Inwardly, he was torn; part of him wanted to believe what the zebra was saying, that with time an understanding could be reached, but both prior experiences and his heritage were standing firmly in the way of such a thing seeming feasible.

Being nice and becoming friends with the ponies of Ponyville was one thing, but showing them what he really was seemed like a breaker, no matter how close he got before revealing himself; Spike and Pinkie might’ve been alright with it, but the likes of Twilight, Flitter, and dare he say most of Ponyville wouldn’t be so graceful about it.

Still… hiding forever wasn’t an option. Not unless he wanted to be paying sneaking visits to the Everfree every other week for his entire life.

After a long while staring at his hooves, one of them tapping at the floor, Xarzith spoke up. “Where-or, well, how do you think I should start?” he finally asked.

At that Zecora’s muzzle broke into a grin, and she closed her photo album. “Well since you know my story already, perhaps I am a good a place to start as any.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“You know, I really feel that I should’ve paid you more for all your trouble.”

Zecora just laughed and waved her dismissively. “Do not fret such a thing. I enjoyed our chat and your company, and that is more than enough payment for me,” she nodded at his saddlebags. “Besides, all the plants I have given you grow here in the Everfree.”

Their chat had taken a bit more of a general turn after her advice on finding one's place in Ponyville, and that, Zecora had to admit, had been a much more interesting topic for both of them.

Xarzith had told her about his previous life in the northlands, funnily enough a place that many zebras held strange and often distorted thoughts of, especially concerning the natures of snow and ice. In turn she’d gotten the chance to tell him about Zebrica and life in her tribe, and how her youth had been a vastly different experience, growing up on the savannahs surrounded by all sorts of creatures, than those of the young colts and fillies of Ponyville.

They both agreed that Ponyville could do with a few changes, but was overall a very nice place to call home.

The stallion glanced around the surrounding trees, which now strangely didn’t seem so frightening. “Fair enough,” he said, before turning back and offering her a smile. “But thanks for everything, I really mean it. The advice especially.”

“And I thank you for your praise, which I will cherish for all my days,” she replied, returning the gesture. “And I do hope your place amongst Ponyville you will find, though I am always here if you’re in a bind.”

The two of them shared a finally hoofshake before Xarzith turned to depart, leaving Zecora at the foot of her home as she watched him go. Truthfully, he was a strange character, but one she could relate to, an occurrence which had been virtually non-existent as far as she could remember.

“I can only hope he finds his way. It would be a shame for such a pony not to stay,” she thought, deciding it best to head back inside and tend to her brew.

Though she paused in her doorway when rather than turning left at the path’s divide, and back towards Ponyville, Xarzith turned right.

“Xarzith, I do not wish to tell you how to chew your hay, but I doubt you want to go that way,” she cautioned, prompting him to glance back at her. She inclined her head in the direction he was going. “That way is not for taking in the scenery, it only leads further into the Everfree.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Zecora him a look that spoke her opinion on ‘going further into the forest’, though rather than take her expression seriously, he just smirked and shook his head.

And then, still smiling, he turned and trotted away, his white coat quickly disappearing into the wall of trees as Zecora watched on in befuddlement.

A few moments after he’d gone from sight, Zecora snickered and buried her face in her hoof.

“Ponyville, a quiet town I might think. Instead these ponies drive me to drink.”

Still laughing and shaking her head again, the zebra again turned on her hooves and headed back towards her hut, mentally deciding she’d had enough of potions and ponies for one day…

...Only to spin around as a nearby thicket began to shake.

Snorting and clenching her jaw, the zebra spun around in the direction of the noise, ready to give whatever jumped out of the undergrowth at her a taste of her back hooves, be it timberwolf or otherwise.

Though all she could do was blink in surprise when the familiar face of an agitated purple alicorn popped out of said nearby bush, followed quickly by those of a concerned looking pair of Spike and Rainbow Dash.

“Ok, just where the hay is he going now?”

Comments

[Dark Dienen]

5519225
Because there is nothing wrong with the OC and everyone has their own opinions. The real question is why do you feel that way.

[BrokenSpaceBar]

5519225
I'm sorry that you feels that way. I, for one, thinks differently.

I think original characters are good, they are the blood and soul of writing, the core essence of a story. It is the ultimate test for a writer. If a writer is incapable of creating one, than he/she had already failed. But why is OC so hated here? Because the OCs here are rarely done well, many here are still new to writing, lacking the skill needed to develop good OCs. Those badly done OC outnumbers the well done so much that OC have became a phrase associated with crappy character and poor writing.

Just because others have failed does not mean this writer have failed, give him a chance, read the story, it's worth it.

[Dark Dienen]

5519273
Thank you!

[Feather Gear]

I looked at the picture and I couldn't help but feel that you took the half pony thing a little too literally...

[Dark Dienen]

5519348 I've gotten that a lot but the picture is split like that to show what he really looks like and what he looks like to hide who he truly is.

[amiamera]

Something that's kind of bugged me about the cover image. Doesn't it give away the twist of the story? I can't remember if you reveal it at the VERY beginning that he's half dragon but it does seem like something that's covered up.

[Dark Dienen]

5520209 no so far in the story he has only been seen as a pony and has done nothing to show that he is part dragon

[Skyreader]

I for one have enjoyed the story so far. OC stories tend to be one of my favorite kind. I enjoy seeing an author take something I enjoy and am familiar with, add something new, and make something entirely different.

I'm looking forward to the next update.

[Skyreader]

5519225
Why did you post this comment 8 chapters in? It kind of looks like you read all 8 chapters, and then said the story was a bad idea. I think the only thing that's terrible is you believing that's a good idea.

[ramdom_player201]

5521542
I believe comments automatically allocate themselves to the most recent chapter when posted on the cover page, since that shows the comments from all chapters and sorts them by creation date rather than by chapter.