Shield and Shadow Part 2: Renaissance

by LucidReverie

Chapter 3: The Return

>>>Did you ever really love her? Did you not jump without looking? Was it pity? Duty? Honor? No. It was weakness that compelled you. You were always unable to move along your own path. You had the ability. But you were week, pathetic. You amounted to nothing. So you again followed the path of another, did as you were told. There is no duty, no honor. There is only weakness.<<<

Confusion.

Deep within the Everfree forest, the figure of a pony emerged from a smoldering crater. It stumbled from the hole in the ground, broken and battered. Bloodshot eyes frantically scoped the landscape, looking for something, anything, familiar.

Heat radiated from the point of impact, searing the pony’s fur and skin. It bit back tears as it continued forward, stumbling over roots and stones. It fell, impacting hard with the ground. With a groan, it pushed itself back onto its hooves.

The bleeding mess pushed through shrubbery, unaware that it scent would surely attract predators. It moved with only one purpose, one thought: find home.

***

Not far from the landing of the meteorite, a zebra collected various roots and leaves for her potions and concoctions. She had heard the sounds of the crash, seen the light. She feared for her home, but once she knew where it had landed, she no longer feared. She wished to investigate, but she needed the herbs, and she knew that she would have time in the morning.

Zecora heard another sound. Snapping of sticks and rustling of leaves. She knew the vile and dangerous creatures that lived in Everfree, but she did not fear them. They stayed away from her home mostly, and an ointment she carried warded them away. The sound grew closer. It was irregular, broken.

Zecora looked into the forest, trying to see past the thicket of bushes and tree branches. The dark concealed and obscured much, but she soon saw a form appear from the black. It looked weak, hurt or injured. She soon noticed the form of a pony, bruised and bleeding, its once light green coat matted with dirt, blood, sweat, and grim.

“Come closer, I mean you no harm,” Zecora announced in her typical rhyme, “There is no need for fear or alarm.”

The pony let out a croak and a groan, as if trying desperately to speak through a parched throat.

“It is not safe here, as you may know. I will take you my cottage, so we must go.”

She approached the pony, who looked hollow, empty. His eyes were red and lifeless, his body barely holding itself together. Zecora slung his foreleg over her own body, supporting him as they walked.

“Gravely injured you seem to be, apologies that I have no healing potions with me,” Zecora sai as they walked the short distance back to her home. The pony did not respond, putting as much focus into walking as possible.

They finally reached Zecora’s cottage; she pushed open the door and propped the pony against the wall as she swiftly moved about her home, fashioning a simple, soft bed on which for him to lie. She again slung his leg over her and she carried him over to the bedding, laying him down gently.

She briefly looked over the stallion. His breathing was ragged, difficult. His wounds oozed slowly, some of them drying and crusting over. She immediately rushed to her medicine stores, pulling out assorted salves and potions, bandages and medicinal herbs. The stallion had lost consciousness, and Zecora began to work even more swiftly.

She collected a bucket of water and a pile of cloths. She poured some of her potions into the water, and it’s color changed as it fizzed and bubbled. She soaked the cloths in the water and was soon at work cleaning off the mystery pony’s damaged body. In is unconscious state, he still let out little whimpers of pain, flinching back from the medical treatment.

His body was soon clean, and Zecora began rubbing in her various salves. Initial sounds of pain were replaced by those of relief as the medicine began its work. The zebra soaked some bandages in a number of potions and began wrapping the most heavily injured parts of the pony’s body. His legs, torso, flank, and much of his head were covered in the healing bandages.

Zecora stepped back and let out a long breath. She looked at the pony, whose breathing had become more relaxed. “I have done what little I can do, now the rest of it is up to you.”

She pulled a blanket over the pony and let him rest. She decided against going outside again. Hours had passed, and she could collect what herbs she needed in the morning. She lastly tilted the pony’s head up, pouring a small amount of healing potion down his throat. He drank greedily before losing consciousness yet again.

The zebra yawned and moved to her own bed. She curled up and pulled a blanket over herself, watching the unknown pony until she herself drifted into sleep.

***

Zecora awoke with the sunrise. The soft light poured in through her windows, illuminating her cottage. She looked about, finding the pony from the night before still asleep. His breathing was slow, but far steadier. She rose from her bed and stretched out her muscles.

With a yawn, she walked to her food storage and picked out a few simple items for her morning meal. She took a few extra, just in case her guest was hungry. She walked over to him, carefully watching. Some of his wounds had continued to bleed, but they seemed to have stopped over the course of the night.

The zebra nibbled on a few flowers before going to work resetting the bandages. She unwrapped the worst of the bunch, revealing the wounds beneath. They had already begun to heal rapidly. Zecora sighed with relief that the salves were working. Many injuries she could heal almost instantly – in a generally healthy pony. But this pony – he looked fairly unhealthy so begin with – starved dehydrated. Grouped with the shock of the injuries and the loss of blood, Zecora was actually surprised at just how well he was healing.

She finished redressing his body, putting away her supplies. Much of him was still obscured. His face could not be seen, nor his cutie mark. Only patches of his green fur were visible. She again tilted his head, helping him drink a small bowl of water. He soon lost energy and collapse. She tried offering him food, but he found no power to accept it.

A knock sounded at the door, making Zecora jump. She stood and walked to the door, pulling it open. Outside stood two ponies and a small dragon. Zecora smile, recognizing her friends. “It is good to see you all right here, but now is not a good time I fear.”

“Zecora!” said Twilight Sparkle with relief, “Thank Celestia you’re alright. I can’t believe I forgot to warn you. But what do you mean? Is everything alright?”

“I am fine, thank you for the concern. But there is more you three must learn.” Zecora gestured the trio into the hut. “Welcome Princess Luna, mare of the night. It is good to see you here, you are a welcome sight.”

Luna smiled. “Thank you, Zecora. It is good to see you again.”

“Hey Zecora. How’s the forest treating you?” said Spike, almost sarcastically.

“Little Spike, I am well indeed. And you have not lost that charm, I see.”

“Zecora, who is this?” Twilight asked with concern, looking at the bandaged and injured pony.

“Yes, my special guest. I know not who he is, I confess.”

“What happened to him?” Luna questioned.

“I found him in the forest, his injuries most grave. It took much of my skill for him to be saved.”

“I wonder if he was caught near the crash when the meteor landed,” Twilight wondered.

“It is possible that this is true – of what was coming he had no clue.”

“We should take him to Ponyville hospital. They must be able to help,” Twilight said with hope.

“I feel he is too sick to move, but I will take him when his body is soothed. Until then I will care for him here. He seems very strong, so we have little to fear.”

“Alright, Zecora. It’s amazing what you have done already. But I wonder who he is. Did you recognize him?”

“I can tell you he is not from Ponyville, where he is from we must discover still.”

“And I wonder what he was doing in Everfree forest. But what about you, Luna? What do you make of this?” There was no response. “Luna?”

Luna knelt next to the pony, her head hanging. Small sniffles could be heard.

“Luna? What’s the matter?” Twilight asked with worry.

“I did this. It was something of my creation that did this harm. And this stallion seems so… familiar. This whole thing seems so familiar. And wrong”

“Luna, you did nothing. The meteors were out of your control. It’s not your fault.”

“But it was something of my night that caused this.”

“There is nothing you could have done. And it’s now up to Zecora to help him. You aren’t responsible for him.”

“But I feel that way, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Princess, you are not the one who is to blame. And worry not, I will help this pony without a name. Go and continue your day, to heal him I will find a way.”

“Thank you, Zecora. I do not wish any further ills to befall this poor soul,” said Luna sadly.

“Come on, Luna. We can’t do anything for him if Zecora says we shouldn’t move him. And I’m sure we can check up on his sometime if you want.”

“Very well, Twilight Sparkle. It seems it may be the best option.”

“Go, Princess, and continue on your quest. This poor stallion truly needs his rest.”

Twilight and Luna gathered themselves together. Luna still looked worried, and Twilight wore concern for her. “Please, Luna,” she said, “don’t worry about him. Let’s go see the meteor crash – take your mind off of things.”

“It just seems so… odd. Like something out of a dream.”

“Uh, well…” Twilight was unsure of how to respond. As they walked through the door and into the forest, Twilight instead turned to Zecora, bidding her farewell, “It was good to see you, Zecora. Glad you’re okay. And good luck with… uh… him.”

“Of course, of his fate we will see. On another note, stop by again if you would like your herbal tea.”

Twilight smiled and nodded. Luna offered a polite final goodbye, and the two ponies continued toward their destination. As soon as they had left her sight, Zecora closed her door and walked back to the wounded pony. His breathing was even steadier yet, and he just seemed more full of life. She looked at him with mixed concern and hopefulness.

“Luck to be alive you are, to have come that close to a falling star.”

So the torture of closeness.

Comments

[Material Defender]

Yeah, part 2!

[The Scrap]

My God. It LIVES!