Zecora wandered the forest in search of a fruit; she was brewing a potion that it would suit. Across her shoulders, a basket was slung. It had herbs, and roots, and other such fun. But her journey was halted when she heard a pained sound. She looked for the source, and found a pony on the ground.
The source of the noise was a white unicorn colt. When he heard her approach, he awoke with a jolt. But his strength had all left him, and he could not rise; instead he uttered the most pathetic of cries. He looked up at Zecora, and his eyes filled with tears.
"Oh no, a cannibal," he said with great fear.
He struggled to flee, but could not even crawl. His eyes became glassy, his head started to fall. Zecora took pity, and reached for an herb.
"Don't worry, young pony, this will settle your nerves."
Blueblood floated in a numb, cottony darkness.
He could feel memories pushing at the corners of his plush void, trying to force their way into his head. He ignored them. Here, he didn't have to think about the mistakes he had made. He didn't have to think about how empty his life was. He didn't have to think about what an embarrassment he was to Auntie Celestia. He didn't have to think about Cadance and her idiot husband, or that indigo-maned pony who had humiliated him in front of all of Canterlot, or that small-town school marm he'd managed to fall for because of one, simple gesture of kindness.
Most of all, he didn't have to remember that he'd left behind his life of ease and luxury to commit suicide by Everfree Forest.
No. Here, it was just soft, comfortable blackness. Whatever that cannibal had given him sure felt good.
Wait. Cannibal?
Bright red panic suddenly filled the void. Blueblood felt himself rushing towards consciousness. Light started to stab at the corners of his eyes. He groaned and tried to stir, but found his body nonresponsive. Finally, with a burst of willpower, he managed to open his eyes.
It took a moment for things to come into focus. He was in some sort of hut. Freakish painted masks decorated the walls, and implements of dark magic hung from the ceiling. Long shelves contained an assortment of colorful flasks, no doubt evil poisons or bewitching potions. A kettle bubbled in the center of the room, steam rising through a hole in the hut's center.
The cannibal had captured him.
Blueblood groaned incomprehensibly, trying to fight off the effects of the evil creature's poison, but could only barely manage to raise his head before dizziness washed over him and nearly sent him spinning back to unconsciousness. He gritted his teeth and kept his bearings, but only just.
Well, he'd wanted to die, right? Being eaten alive wasn't the way he'd have preferred to go, but the end result would be the same. And besides, at least the cannibal would get a good meal out of it. At least Blueblood would finally prove useful for something.
He hardly stirred when the door opened and the cannibal walked in, baskets full of vile reagents across her back. She glanced at him for just a moment, then set about unloading her packs. Some things got placed on shelves, some got thrown into the stew pot, and a few others were hung from lines that descended from the hut's ceiling. When she was finished, the cannibal tucked the baskets in a corner and turned to the prince. "Finally awake, little lost foal? Good thing I found you, though that wasn't my goal."
Blueblood tried to speak, but his mouth was numb and the words came out slurred and indecipherable. The cannibal quirked an eyebrow at him, then smiled.
"The herbs that I gave you eased your illness and pain, but they have a disorienting effect on the brain."
What? The prince's confusion must have shown on his face, because the cannibal chuckled.
"What, did you think I was some evil mare? That you had awoken in my shadowy lair? I am Zecora, a healer by trade. Many I've helped with the potions I've made."
A healer? Likely. The book Blueblood had read on zebras as a child claimed that they were vicious monsters who cast wicked spells and feasted on the flesh of normal ponies. Everypony knew that they were not to be trusted.
His skepticism must have again registered on his face, because the cannibal rolled her eyes and reached for a small, glass vial. "Go back to sleep, oh paranoid colt," she told him as she approached. "Perhaps when you arise, you won't be such a dolt."
Blueblood struggled against the zebra's foul magic, but her words snaked into his ears and wrapped themselves around his brain. His eyelids grew too heavy to bear any longer, and the void reclaimed him.
Blueblood eased into consciousness gradually this time. He was aware of birds chirping and the sun warming his face. A blanket with far too low a thread count was pulled up to his chest. An odd smell, like scented smoke, filled the air around him. His eyes opened slowly, and he found himself inside the cannibal's hut once again. The fire under the cauldron had gone out, and the zebra was nowhere to be found.
He waggled his hoof experimentally, and was relieved to note that it actually responded to his commands. With a groan, he pushed himself out of the bed and stood. Every joint in his body pulsed with aching agony, his head still felt heavy and fuzzy, and his eyes weren't quite focusing on what he was looking at, but he was alive and not boiling in a cannibal's stew pot, so it was a net win.
Somepony had left a plate piled high with odd fruits and vegetables on a small table near the bed, along with a pitcher of water. Blueblood sniffed them mistrustfully, but a sudden rumbling in his guts reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything since those tasty red berries he'd found in the forest yesterday. He took a tentative bite of one fruit, an orange object with a hard outer shell, found it rather palatable, and set about devouring the entire plate.
He didn't realize that the zebra had returned until she set her baskets down with a loud thunk. Blueblood halted mid-chew, panic returning to him in a rush. He watched as the cannibal went about her business, not looking at or even acknowledging him.
Finally, the zebra glanced at him with an inquisitive expression. "I see you're awake and enjoying your meal; tell me, little pony, how do you feel?"
The prince swallowed his mouthful of food. "Better. Certainly well enough to defend myself. Don't think I don't know what you're doing, cannibal, trying to fatten me up for the slaughter."
The zebra rolled her eyes. "So much for hoping you'd be less dumb. Your accent is odd, pony; where are you from?"
"I am Prince Blueblood of Canterlot, nephew to Princess Celestia herself. So don't get any ideas."
"A prince, you say, but so far from your home. What brought you to Everfree, unarmed and alone?"
"Alone? Who said I'm alone? Why, I have a squadron of royal guards no doubt surrounding your hut as we speak!"
The zebra covered her eyes with a hoof. "The stories they tell of my people are mad. I rescued and fed you; am I really so bad?"
"Rescued?" the prince scoffed. "Hardly! I had the situation well in hoof. I just... was tired, you see."
"Exhaustion does not enter into it; you ate the red berries and made yourself sick. I know your symptoms, and you're lucky I do. Red berry poisoning has been the end of no few."
"Oh. Well." Blueblood considered that for a moment. "So you're not going to eat me?"
"I eat plants, berries and roots. The hunting of ponies is not my pursuit."
"Ah. Well, then. Um. Thank you for helping me, miss... ?"
"I already told you, but I suppose you were sick. My name is Zecora; hopefully this time it will stick."
"Right. Zecora. A... pleasure to make your acquaintance." Blueblood looked around the hut; in the daylight, it was significantly less terrifying. The strange masks were painted in warm, pleasant colors, and the previously sinister objects hanging from the ceiling were herbs and roots and other odd, but certainly nonthreatening, things. Reluctantly, the prince was forced to admit that Dangers of the Southern Lands: Zebras and Lemurs might have not have been entirely accurate.
He finished his breakfast with silent gusto, his only concession to manners being to chew with his mouth shut. Zecora set about placing sticks under her cauldron and lighting them with a few expert scrapes of a gray stone. As the water inside began to boil, she started taking things from her baskets and slicing them with a knife.
Blueblood watched her work, his curiosity growing. "What are you making?"
The zebra finished slicing some sort of plant, then placed the knife on her table. "A brew to strengthen muscle and bone. After you drink it, you should return home."
The prince snorted. "May as well stop, then. I'm not going home."
"You're not going back?" Zecora asked, turning to him. "And why is that?"
"Because there's nothing for me there. And I mean nothing to anypony."
"But you said you're a prince? Surely, you will be missed."
"Not particularly. I doubt anyone will even notice I'm gone. They'll be too busy fawning over Cadance and her idiot husband."
Zecora considered him for a moment, then turned back to her table and began scraping chopped bits onto a plate. "Ah, I see. You are plagued by jealousy."
"And complacency. And inadequacy. And depression... " he waggled a hoof vaguely, "... cy."
The zebra offered him a small grin as she picked up the plate and dumped its contents in the cauldron. "Most ponies would try to deny these flaws. And yet you embrace them without any pause."
"When you have as many as I do, it seems rather pointless to try hiding them."
"And yet you are humble, and clearly quite smart. These are signs of light in your heart."
"Humble?" He snorted. "You don't know me very well."
"I know what I see, and that is a hurting pony."
Blueblood gave a thoughtful grunt. He watched in silence as the zebra continued preparing her concoction, the steam rising from the pot taking on a slightly purple hue as more ingredients were added. Once she had dropped in the final piece, she found a long, wooden ladle and set about stirring the brew.
"So tell me, Prince Blue," she said after a moment, "what troubles you?"
"Me," he sighed. "I'm just... worthless. I've never been of any real use to anypony, but now, it's like any purpose I might have served is just... gone. I don't know where I fit in. I have no friends, nopony who really cares for me."
"So you came to the Everfree to find who you're meant to be?"
Blueblood shook his head. He'd come here to die. To starve, or to throw himself off a cliff, or even to be ripped apart by a monster. Just a few hours ago, he had been convinced that it was the only rational and noble thing to do. But as he looked into the zebra's concerned eyes, the words stuck in his throat. He looked away.
"I understand," Zecora said solemnly. "That is how I came to this land."
The prince looked up again in surprise. Zecora was staring into her stew, eyes sad and distant. "A shaman I was, or was soon to be. Respected and feared by everypony. But my chieftan took ill while my mentor was gone, and the potion I made to cure him was... wrong. I had not done research, had assumed I was right, and so my poor father died badly that night.
"I fled. I felt worthless. I'd let my own father die. I ran to the north, blinded by the tears in my eyes. Through savannas, through mountains, across rivers and streams. Until I reached the feared legend that was Everfree.
"I expected to die, I will tell you that. But, as I wandered, my knowledge came back. I could identify plants, animals, and tracks. I found places of safety, and where fresh water's at. I learned to survive, and never took ill. And I kept moving on 'til I found Ponyville.
"I was not at first welcomed, but finally made friends. And here I found purpose, and shall stay 'til the end. So I know how you feel, o wandering colt. Though you may seek to end things, you should not give up hope."
She continued stirring while Blueblood absorbed her story. "That last part didn't really rhyme," he said after a moment.
She just grinned.
"Honestly, though, I'm glad for you, Zecora," he continued. "But we're very different. You already knew what your purpose was before you came here. You knew about healing and mysticism and such. Perhaps you didn't expect to be practicing your skills here, but you knew your strengths already. I mean, look at your cutie mark. I bet that means 'magic healing powers' or something in your language."
"That is close, you see; it denotes alchemy."
"But look at mine! A compass. What, am I supposed to be really good at reading maps? Huzzah."
Zecora quirked an eyebrow. "Most ponies have a good story, I hear, of what events led their cutie mark to appear."
Blueblood rubbed a hoof across his chin. "I'm actually not even sure when it specifically did. There was... something going on at the castle. Some sort of attack. I was very young, I didn't really understand. But I started shouting at the servants to follow me to a hidden room I knew about. I spent a lot of time exploring the castle as a foal, and I'd found all sorts of old passageways. So I gathered as many as I could, and we all went there and hid. And when we came out a few hours later, I had this mark."
"And it does not seem clear to you what your cutie mark suggests that you do?"
"What, shout orders at people?" He laughed. "I suppose I have gotten a lot of practice at that."
The zebra rapped Blueblood gently on the skull with her ladle, drawing a surprised bark of protest. "It seems quite obvious to me, you know. You're meant to blaze trails while others follow. You find paths others can't perceive. Your special talent is to lead."
"Lead what? Equestria is ruled by a pair of immortal goddesses, Zecora. I doubt they'll abdicate just to make their idiot great-great-great grand nephew feel better about himself. Besides, even if they did, they'd probably just give the throne to Cadance and her numskull husband. I mean, great, if my special talent is leadership, what is there for me to lead?"
The zebra regarded him calmly, again stirring her pot. "You seek answers about your fate; I can help, if you'll just wait. You can put your very soul to the test; I will place you on a vision quest."
"Yes," the prince deadpanned, "wandering through the Everfree Forest while under the effects of hallucinogens sounds like an excellent idea."
Zecora shot him a glare. "This is an ancient practice of my folk; it has given many lost souls hope. I will brew you a potion and give you supplies, and you shall see your path laid out 'fore your eyes. So what do you say, o heartsick prince? Are you desperate enough to undergo this?"
Blueblood stared at the bubbling surface of the cauldron. This was, obviously, insane. He'd read about "vision quests" in Dangers of the Southern Lands, and how zebras would eat a paste that warped their perceptions of reality and would then wander for weeks across the savannah, usually starving to death or being eaten by lions. Granted, the book was proving less and less reliable, and pony-eating lions were unlikely to be an issue, but the Everfree was probably even more dangerous than the wilderness of Zecora's homeland.
To his surprise, Blueblood realized that he didn't particularly want to die anymore. Just talking to this zebra for awhile had made him care about living again. Part of him felt relief at that, but a larger part rebelled. He had come to Everfree because he believed, truly, that the world would be better off without him in it... hadn't he? He had come with purpose and with a noble, if grim, goal. But if his death wish was simply the result of loneliness, if a simple expression of kindness from a stranger was all it took to shake his resolve...
Then he was just a coward, taking the coward's way out.
"I'll do it," he said.
IM excited if no one else
edit: OH GOD THAT JUST MADE THINGS WORSE. Next please. These are, in fact, great.
It's here. It's finally here!
EDIT
Whoa. That first part and all the rhyming...now that's skill. Great job!
Why would Celstia let him read such a horrible book! Talk about early implanted racism!
Beautiful language on Zecora. I'm always impressed when people use her as a character.
I'm very excited to hear of Blueblood's quest and eagerly await more.
I like it! Zecora's a great character who doesn't get enough love. I love the story of Blueblood and the foals, so I'm really interested to see where this goes. It's enough to actually make me feel sorry for the dumb donkey.
Wow, you've actually made me feel bad for Blueblood. You raise an interesting point about the redundancy of a royal family when the two rulers are functional immortals. Hopefully our changed prince can find his own band of ponies to lead by himself.
I love how even the narrative from Zecora's viewpoint is in rhyme.
I like your premise and I am looking forward to where you will take us on this endeavor.
more please. tracking this.
I have been waiting
^_^ thank you for putting up with my non-waiting skill
Another comment, the story i just read, now of all times has rhymes dancing in my head. I hope you do go with sense and purpose. Or a readers revolt will be you.... something that rhymes
HOORAY! A SEQUEL! :D
Your ability to write Zecora off as a wise healer is amazing, especially when she's still able to come off as wise while RHYMING PERFECTLY.
You know, I think I just have to track you as an author. :)
I'm really liking this so far.
One very minor language quibble: The word is "till", not "'til". Both "until" and "till" are full words with a long history of use, and one is not simply a contraction of the other.
Wow. A very good start. Pretty much everything I wanted to say about Zecora has already been covered above, but to reiterate anyway: you write her perfectly. It's not easy to make her rhyming speech work as normal dialogue, but you pulled it off. The rhyming narrative for the beginning of the chapter was a great touch, too. The "Oh, no, a cannibal!" line had me laughing for about a solid minute. I also like this take on her backstory. Very sad, but you feel that much better that she's found a good life and friends in Ponyville.
So, Blueblood has decided against suicide and is going on a vision quest. Not something I ever expected to read, but why the hay not? Can't wait to see where this takes him...
769946 I don't think Celly would have given him that. More of like he found lying around somewhere.
This is going to sound pretty harsh in comparison with my last review. This chapter wasn't as polished as the other story was.
Often, the rhymes seem forced. Take the first paragraph for instance. The word 'fun' doesn't really fit in at all except to push the rhyme, and it's cut into a new sentence instead of continuing the previous one for no reason at all. Makes it feel choppy. You don't need the rhymes exactly at the end of sentences, just at the end of phrases.
slung and fun?
herb and nerve?
Rhyming is hard, and I think you needed to spend more time on that.
For the most part, the storytelling is solid, but there are a few little things.
>Blueblood read a book on the Savannah? Okay, that's fine, but there was nothing to hint that Blueblood ever read. It's just dropped as a detail and never explained.
>Zecora thinks he's smart after he's being such an idiot? She might give him compassion and benefit of the doubt, but he's literally done nothing that would suggest that so far.
>She also says she thinks he's humble. You note yourself the difference between self-loathing and humble a bit later.
Zecora seems well put-together. She used to be terribly distressed, but now seems perfectly fine, and she doesn't tell how that happened, or even hint at a journey that allowed her to be. There's no message of resignation and acceptance, of moving forwards, or anything. That's not only missed opportunity for added interesting and depth, but it's also somewhat inconsistent characterization.
To summarize:
-When you're doing something complicated and tricky, make sure you spend enough time ensuring that it will work, otherwise it can backfire.
-Every detail you think to add in that seems to contradict what the reader would normally expect should be at least in part explained. Even if it's just "though that is a story for another time" or some small note that you recognize it's unusual. It seems your chapters are a decent short-medium length, and lengthening them a little with these explanations shouldn't hurt your pacing.
Asking someone to look over your story can help you catch these things you might miss when self-editing. I try to do that after the fact for people, but it's probably nicer to have someone catch these things before you post them. I mean, it probably would sound less harsh then. And you'd also then be more likely to feel free to make revisions and improve as a writer.
I feel bad that I gave you the best review I can give, then I'm saying all of this. I hope it's helpful. Think it over a bit and let me know?
Oh wow, the first chapter made me cry.
Zecora's dialogue is perfect. There's no way I'm getting any sleep tonight until I finish reading this thing.
I noticed a little typo, I don't know if anyone else noticed: "Being eaten by alive wasn't the way he'd have preferred to go"
Wow. Just, wow. A really good story I'll admit, Zecoras lines are certainly a hit
I'll keep reading this. Prince Blueblood is now just the underdog for me as I'm curious what will redeem him.
Also, I kinda can see where he's coming from, as I have nothing going for myself at the moment.
But I know there's people out there who love and admire whatever sad being I imagine myself to be.
It is all an illusion. Why am I posting this
Anyway, Hope this 'll turn out spectacular
Rhyming narration, FUCK YEAH!
I see writers all the time get out of the task of rhyming by putting Zecora by herself and describing her mostly in third person omniscient.
But YOU'RE just like:
"Fuck that."
Also very skillful in that even though BB wants to improve himself, he's still a stereotyping douche.
Something that you seemed to have glossed over though. Zecora says that "I understand. That's how I came to this land." That seemed to impy she came out to die as well. You explain how she's still capable of fending for herself, but it doesn't mentioned what gave her the WILL to live. Overcoming suicidal urges seems like something criminal to forget about. Right now it seems like she just up and forgot about her family and friends when she reached Everfree, and that's why she doesn't feel guilty.
I have yet ANOTHER QUESTION:
Where did you get the idea of Zecora's mark signifying alchemy? Is that really what in means in some African culture, or did you just make that up?
this is AWESOME, liking it alredy on 1° chapter, i tly love how you write
You did a fantastic job writing Zecora. I imagine that isn't an easy thing to do.
Dangers of the Southern Lands was right about the lemurs, though. Those guys are vicious little buggers.
"And complacency. And inadequacy. And depression... " he waggled a hoof vaguely, "... cy."
Okay you got me, I giggled out loud.
This is an excellent start for a story that I can tell is going to be excellent. The fact that you showed off your writing mojo with Zecora in a literary rhyming THROWDOWN right out of the starting gate-- it says a lot. I can tell you're an author that's out to push your own boundries. Even if it means wandering briefly into Dr. Seuss territory, haha.
Excellent rhyming.
You seem fine, to chain so many a rhyme.
YOU THAT READ WRONG!
857113 Are you insulting lemurs?
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2753802>>2753803
Oh no, of course not, I would never insult lemurs! Not where any of them could hear me, anyway.
chieftain ^^;
Zecora should really get into Hip-hop...
Nopony can drop sick rhymes like her.