The Album

by Peregrine Caged

Zecora -- Mother Nature

Written by: OmniscientTurtle
Rated Everyone

The air of the Everfree Forest was thick with the sounds of creatures waking from a long winter’s nap. Spring had just settled onto Equestria, and for most places that meant it was time for Winter Wrap Up. Pegasi would be busy bringing in a front of warmer weather, birds would be returning in droves from southern lands (also stewarded by pegasi), and the rest of the ponies would be performing whatever menial task they’d been assigned to. Normal, as all should be.

But for one zebra, that didn’t come close to normal.

“How they can find that normal, who knows,” Zecora thought to herself as she trotted through the thick underbrush of the Everfree. It was a question she’d asked herself time and time again on solitary walks like these. They were good for self-reflection, not that she ever went on walks with anyone while she wasn’t in Ponyville. Nopony would ever be brave enough to venture this deep into the forest that they considered so evil and foreboding, and who could blame them? They didn’t know anything about it beyond the few of its resident creatures that they’d encountered, who unfortunately happened to be the testiest. Even in those cases, the animals were usually just defending themselves or their territory. But ponies didn’t understand that, and ponies always feared what they didn’t understand.

“Just like me, I suppose.”

Having somewhat answered her own question, she let it fade into nothing, instead deciding to lose herself in the symphony of the forest. She knew the path well, so she didn’t worry much about getting lost; it was quite relaxing to let her body move on a set path so her mind could wander all it wanted. From the smallest insect to the largest beast, the sounds of the intertwining rivers and the light breeze rustling through the canopy of the trees; it had a rhythm no pony-controlled system could ever match. These, in her mind, were the true sounds of change. The only things that controlled this part of the world, her world, were the primordial forces of nature. Even the princesses couldn’t hold a candle to that power.

This was the purest freedom.

The sound of rushing water grew louder with every step she took. Glancing down, she noticed a myriad of imprints left in the wet mud. All of them were familiar, but one in particular stood out for her. It was a curved U-shape; her own from a few days prior, and the only of its kind that would ever be on this path.

Soon she arrived at the bank of the river, which shone a murky blue from what light pierced the canopy. For today’s journey, it was as far as she was going to venture; the ingredient that she needed never grew far from the water. Taking one more moment to experience the sounds and sights of the river, the zebra went to work.

She walked along the riverbank, scanning the forest floor for a particular shape amongst the less important foliage. The forest was covered in a shroud of twilight, a result of the natural ceiling the trees had created. Blotches of light decorated the tall ferns and scraggly vines, while the ground was paved with rocks and the roots of giant trees. How ancient some of them were; she guessed some might’ve been tens of thousands of years old. They were the guardians of the land, sentries that had lived long before the princesses brought order to a once unruly world.

Zecora thought about the stories she’d heard as a filly. According to the elders of her tribe, Equestria had once been a barren wasteland, ruled by chaos and misery. In that day and age, the Everfree was supposedly one of the few places ponies could go to escape the rule of the spirit Discord and was named in honor of the freedom it once gave them. Nowadays it served only as a place for mothers to threaten to send their foals when they misbehaved. She found it contemptible but a little funny how one could simply toss aside something that had once proved so invaluable. Such was the way of life; when one didn’t need something anymore, they simply tossed it aside.

Eventually she arrived at a small grove set aside from the rest of the path. In it was a circle of green leaves growing at various angles out of the ground, each emblazoned with a vicious orange stripe down their center. Her stock of the herb, a decongestant and painkiller known as tiger aloe, had been running dangerously low during the preceding winter with a large number of ponies catching the feather flu. Zecora smiled lightly as she opened her hoof-stitched saddlebags and began picking the leaves.

Often she’d wondered what the plants thought of her as they were plucked from the earth, one by one. They were living things, so did they hate her for what she did to them? Did they feel remorse for not living longer, for having their lives ended before they could do anything with them? And what would they do with them? She bent over and inspected the intricate grooves of the tiger aloe. What was it thinking; could it even think?

Her smile grew a little more as she sighed and raised her head back up. Those were exactly the kinds of questions Twilight Sparkle would ask. In reality, she knew the answers already. Yes, they did feel. They were living in this great forest just as much as she was. And while they couldn’t speak like other creatures, she knew they had their own brand of emotions, no matter what those like Twilight might say.

But she had a feeling that the plants she picked knew that their death would be to better the life of another, and even if she didn’t know for certain, she felt that they would be okay with that.

After she was finished picking what she needed, Zecora looked up at the sun arcing over what sky she could see. Normally on a beautiful day like today she would have spent more time hunting for herbs, but as luck would have it there was an order she needed to finish before the end of the day, a brew that needed to be stirred every hour to be fully effective. Leaving a few of the tiger aloe behind, Zecora started back toward her hut on the same path.

After she had been walking for a while, a glint of light caught the corner of her eye, and she turned to see the source as a singular plant growing in the midst of some otherwise nondescript brush.

“What have we here?” she began, puzzled that she had not noticed the item on the way to the river. She lowered her head and inspected the new plant more closely, studying the lines and patterns that separated it from those surrounding it, gasping as she recognized what it was. “Why, I believe this is equine ear!”

The herb was aptly named. It was cylindrical in structure, tapering off to a point at the top and leaving a cavity in the center. The leaf was fairly large, towering all the way up to Zecora’s shoulder. The leaf, however, wasn’t the important part; in fact, it was toxic, as a few unlucky zebras had once figured out.

Zecora looked inside the opening. A small hair-covered nodule seemed to levitate in the center of its protective shell, giving off a soft luminescence. She lowered her head into the cavity and gently gripped the bump in her teeth, being careful not to accidentally crush it. The moment she did, the rest of the plant shriveled up.

She dropped the still-glowing orb into her saddlebag. “Not what I had in mind, but still a lucky find.”

She wasn’t normally one to believe in luck; she mainly used the word because it was the only word to express how she felt. To her, everything had it’s own plan, even nature. It was the principle her people had lived by for many years. Everything had its place, and every place had its thing, and right now her place was here, in the Everfree forest.

Still, there wasn’t a day that went by where she wouldn’t think about her homeland. The noises of zebras bustling around the small market, the smoke of the bonfire during the equinox celebrations, the beat of the tribal drums; her memory was so vivid, especially the drums. There was nothing that could bring out one’s spirit as much as the drums. She would dance to their beat around the fire and sing of the wonders of nature, laughing alongside her family and friends…

Zecora opened her eyes. There were no drums. No bonfire. No zebras. Only the dim light of the Everfree and the sounds of the forest that still followed her, much more empty in their presence. She was standing, daydreaming yet again, in the middle of the path that led back to her hut, tread on only by her own hooves. No others, just the way it had been and always would be.

Her eyes fell towards the earthen path as the downtrodden mare continued on towards her hut. She lived a secluded life here in the dark forest; it was the only way to achieve ultimate concentration and tranquility, both being aspects her people had hammered into her brain as essential. But tranquility came at a price. The price was loneliness, and she often questioned whether or not she was still willing to pay it, or why she even did. What good was seclusion, anyway, if it cut you off from everyone you cared for?

It was a common, though not required, tradition of the zebra to go on a “walk” when they became an adult, which entitled them to go off into the world to discover who they were. More often than not they came back; the rest of the world ended up being much too advanced for them. Zecora, on the other hoof, had been different. As a filly, any excuse to go on an adventure was good enough for her, even just going with her father to look for herbs. She was the one who wanted to go everywhere and know everything.

This was probably the reason her family had been so upset when she’d announced she would be going on the “walk”. Nonetheless, they had respected her choice and silently accepted her going away as all zebras did. Her mother had made sure her saddlebags were packed with more memorabilia, books, and ingredients than were necessary, tears streaming down her face all the while. Zecora had felt guilty viewing that, especially since she had a feeling she wouldn’t return, but the walk was the only chance she’d get to satisfy her adventurous side.

Her entire village had given her the traditional farewell, one last celebration to remember them by. They told stories of the many times she’d wandered off into the nearby wilderness, and when she’d stowed away on the fisherstallions’ boats just to get a glimpse of the sunrise on the ocean horizon. All of the traditions had been done, wishing her a safe journey and that she might one day return. Through this final hurrah, it meant that even if she forgot them, her heart would be forever connected to theirs, just like their ancestors before them.

The next day, she’d left her village for the last time.

Almost immediately she’d known this was what she was meant for. The outside world had had so much to offer. Advances in science and civilization she’d only dreamed of abounded in every town, almost to the point of being overwhelming. Everywhere she went she picked up new knowledge of medicine, while keeping pieces of home close to heart. Her tribe had never told her anything about the outside world; now she knew why. If they had told her, she would have been even more eager to leave. Out here, she could find almost everything.

There had been one thing that had eluded her grasp: acceptance. The one thing she’d failed to find was acceptance. In every village and town the locals decried her as a witch, no matter how she’d tried to convince them otherwise. Eventually she’d grown used to seclusion and, in every instance, had given up and moved on, still searching for where she belonged. Ponyville had been the first and only place to accept her, and even then it was only after they’d labeled her a wicked enchantress. If it hadn’t been for dear Applebloom, Ponyville would’ve just been another on the long list of villages she’d left. But now, thanks to her, she had her first friends, friends who accepted her, her ways, her differences.

She had often fantasized about moving into Ponyville, into a real house, abandoning the dark and solitude of the forest, doing something a zebra would never do. Maybe she would go out and experience the “bars” that she’d heard of during her forays into town; they seemed like fun places. Perhaps she’d get a job, buy food for once instead of foraging.

And most of all, not be alone anymore.

Suddenly, a gust of wind shattered her reflection, rattling the flora and forcing her to throw up a foreleg to cover herself from a wave of dirt. After a short second it died down, and she lowered her dust-covered foreleg, looking perplexed. Mysterious gusts of wind were not something she’d ever experienced in this part of the forest—even the occasional breeze was a rare occurrence. It wasn’t that she wasn’t glad for it, as any wind in the stuffy forest was welcome.

Then she looked up and saw them. Hundreds of glowing balls of light danced above her head, hanging in the air unfettered by gravity. They were near-translucent, like large water droplets that had yet to decide whether they wanted to turn to rain. They shone a pale green under the dark canopy, just like the equine’s ear nodule in her bag. Looking closer, she could see small hairs growing from the center of each one.

Zecora’s jaw dropped. A moment ago the air had been abuzz with the disembodied sounds of the animals in the forest. Now it was silent, as if all of nature had stopped to appreciate this sight.

Beautiful.

“Spores of a mushroom, I presume.” Even as she said it, she couldn’t believe any one mushroom could produce all of these spores. It certainly wasn’t any mushroom she knew of; the wind must have blown them in from another part of the forest, one that she had yet to explore.

For a moment she was frightened, imagining that these seemingly innocent puffs could carry a powerful toxin. That fear soon gave way to satisfaction, as she took in a deep breath, immersing herself in the newfound marvel. At the same time, she began to wonder what medicinal properties this new fungus might hold. Soon enough the spores would be settling near her hut, and she would be able to examine them more closely.

Someday they might turn out to be nothing but a nuisance, and nature would find a way to retaliate, all on its own. Because that's what nature did. It wasn’t just an abstract concept. Nature was the very essence of life, a single being made up of all living creatures on the planet.

Still gazing at the little balls of life that danced lazily in the air, it became clear; she would never be alone. She was part of the great web of life, and that meant that those she cared about would always be nearby. They might live one mile away or one thousand, but they never left her side.

She held a curved foreleg out to catch a falling spore, and to it she gently whispered the last thing her mother had told her before she had walked off into her future:

“Upon the legs of the river and the wings of the wind
Your grand adventure is about to begin
On mountains high and valleys low
Where you might travel, only you will know
In caverns dark, across tundras chilly
Never lose heart, my little filly
And as time does pass, no matter what you do
I'll always be watching over you”

Comments

[Evil Paladin]

Its always nice to see fics about Zecora

[Charcoal Quill]

...the beat of the tribal drums; her memory was so vivid, especially the drums.

2504072 Amen to that. It's always nice to see something from her wise, down-to-earth perspective.

[Evil Paladin]

2504251
Damn skippy!

[Emil]

Couldn't she visit her village occasionally?

[Themaskedferret]

Beautiful to see. I'd love to see you write more of her on your own.

[Duck_Armada]

"Walk a hundred miles, then walk a hundred more." - Mandopony, This fic reads like his song sounds, same feels.

[InspectorSharpWit]

Nuff said

[Diamond Sparkle]

Parasprites?

[AntiquatedAnnomaly]

As someone who loves to go on long walks in the woods, you did an excellent job describing the Everfree. A great story all around. Well done.

[Blue_Paladin42]

Zecora can be a tricky character to write.

You NAILED IT.

[OmniscientTurtle]

2503635>>2504656>>2512259>>2543046>>2504072>>2506373
Sorry it took me so long to say it, but thank you all so much for your kind and encouraging words. Zecora really is one of my favorite characters, and I was intrigued as to how it would feel to write her. It was very fun to say the least.

2504581 I was trying to imply that A) her village is very far away, and B) she wouldn't want to return anyway, even if it meant loneliness on her part.

2505357 Yes! That song was one of my inspirations for this. I love all of Mandopony's stuff, but Home has always been my favorite of his work. Could you tell ?

2504251 Not quite what I had in mind, but I can see where you made the connection

[Emil]

2602613

I guess what I was thinking was that even if it was quite a distance, if she really missed her family, she could still travel for a couple weeks, visit for a couple weeks, and then return.

[TDR]

Very nice. I wonder though about the bars comment. Would a drunk zebra talk in rhyme?