Chapter 3 - Resting
As Zecora pulled her cart its and contents (which now included her new assistant) through the Everfree Forest, she reflected on how the forest had earned its name. Ponies were something of an oddity in the world, in that they took far greater lengths than any other race to control their environment. Everything was tightly regulated: flora, fauna, weather, and everything in between was made just so. Thus, any piece of wild land was faintly mysterious and frightening to them, and the Everfree was the wildest land of all with mystery and fear in abundance.
Some believed that the Everfree Forest couldn’t be controlled, because it had been cursed by Discord, the God of chaos, long ago and would forever resist any attempts to tame it. Some said that Princess Celestia herself had given the forest its attributes one thousand years ago while grieving the loss of her sister. And others said that it was just kept wild out of a sense of ecological responsibility, since many species of wild plants and creatures would go extinct without somewhere equally wild to live.
No matter which tale was true, Zecora thought it certainly deserved its reputation. She passed many ominous-looking trees which seemed to have grotesque faces on their trunks and grasping arms for branches. Various vines and thorny thickets sprawled over the road. Eyes of many shapes and colours watched her from behind the brush; and once or twice, her ears picked up the distant (and worryingly, sometimes not-too-distant) cries of wolves, manticores, and other beasts.
However, there was also a fierce beauty in the forest. Wherever the light shone through the canopy vibrant flowers bloomed in a multitude of shapes and colours. Most were harmless, such as the various orchids, figworts, and poppies; but there were also more sinister ones. Deadly nightshade seemed to be common, and poison joke was in abundance. Other wondrous sights seen by the zebra included the melancholic ruins of a once-noble castle spotted beyond the trees; a babbling brook with its stone bed lined with thick veins of silver ore, making the waters shine and shimmer in the light; and a herd of white-tailed deer which leapt past Zecora’s cart from behind and into the shadows as swiftly and silently as ghosts.
If the creature in her cart woke up and seen all of this, instead of sleeping off the biggest (and only real) meal he had had in a week, he would have been afraid, amazed, and delighted all at once. But he didn’t, so he wasn’t.
In the cart, the creature dreamed.
He dreamed he was in a vast city of shining, square towers of stone, steel, and glass. Countless men and women of his own kind (“Mares and stallions,” an internal voice corrected) walked through the streets. The roads were full of what looked like enclosed, metal carriages without anybody (“Anypony,” again, the voice whispered with gentle authority) pulling them. The busy figures wore a great deal of clothes in many different styles and colours. In contrast, the creature was stark naked, but this did not draw either attention or comment.
Alone, he moved through the crowd until he found himself sitting on a wood-backed bench. He had no idea where he was nor where he was going, and he couldn’t help but notice the faceless figures in the crowds and the unmoving metal wagons. None of this seemed to bother him though. ”Should it?”
“Msaidizi, it is time to wake up,” another external voice echoed distantly.
There was, however, something that did bother him. Every so often he caught glimpses of something from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t quite tell what it was—a rich, dark blue, out of place against the drab scenery. Occasionally this mysterious dark blue shape would be accompanied by twinkling motes of light, like stars in the night sky.
The new voice sounded again, much closer this time. “Msaidizi, come! There is work to be done!”
The creature couldn’t remember whose voice it was, but it seemed very familiar. “Just five more minutes,” he said reflexively. The bench was beginning to feel very comfortable, and he had no desire to leave.
The ethereal voice chuckled warmly in reply, sounding so close that its owner would be right in front of the the creature’s face if he could see them. “Although five more minutes you may wish to take, I’m afraid that now is the time to wake!” This last part was accompanied by a jab in his side.
The creature woke with a jolt, his consciousness bringing back reality as the dream world quickly faded away. A talking zebra who attacked then fed him, and for whom he was now working, seemed far stranger looking back than it had been while it was happening.
He was still in the cart, but it was noticeably emptier than before, and he could feel bare wood beneath him rather than various knick-knacks. When he rubbed his face and yawned, he discovered that it was no longer smeared in blood but had been wiped clean, presumably by his new mistress.
He was also, he couldn’t help but notice, as nude as the day he was born. At first, he was worried and embarrassed. ”Why am I naked?!” Another thought calmed him by chiming, ”What do I mean ‘Why am I naked?’ I’ve been naked for as long as I can remember.” A further, more philosophical thought added, ”Why would I be bothered about that anyway?” It disturbed the creature to discover he had no answer.
Zecora was standing at the (now open) back of the cart, the bamboo rod she’d jabbed him with still in her hoof and an amused look on her face.
“What did you call me?” the creature asked her, yawning again as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Mis-a-what?” he then added.
The zebra rubbed the back of her neck, the golden bands softly clanging together. “Well... remember when I said it was a shame, that you could not remember your name?”
The creature slowly nodded.
“You see, last night I thought ‘This will not do!’, and I wondered if I could find a name suitable for you.” By the way she tapered off the end of her sentence, the creature guessed that she was unsure how he would take to the idea. Maybe it was just because he’d had a good sleep and an even better meal before (“better” in this case meaning “anything that isn’t moss and lots of it”), but he surprisingly found himself okay with it. He couldn’t remember his last one anyway. “Sure. Did you think of one, miss?” he asked her.
Zecora smiled, and nodded. “Oh, yes. A name came to mind, ‘Msaidizi’ was the one.” She waited a few moments for the word to sink in and then added, “It means ‘helper’ in my native tongue.”
“Say that again, please?”
“Msaidizi.”
“Sigh-dee-zee,” the creature said to himself, enunciating each syllable slowly and carefully.
“Close enough.”
The creature repeated the word to himself a few times, turning it over and examining it in his head. Finally, he stopped and smiled at the zebra. “I like it.” He then stood up and jumped out the rear of the cart. Well, he didn’t so much as “jump” as he did “fall”. He brushed himself off and asked, “So, what’s for breakfast?”
While the newly-named Msaidizi slept, Zecora had been busy. She had parked her cart in a grove and unpacked about two thirds of its contents. Most of it was stacked neatly in piles of boxes and barrels, and the rest had been used to make a rather basic campsite. There was a campfire with two thick sitting mats placed next to it and an enormous black-iron cauldron bubbling away merrily above. It was big enough to easily fit the whole of the zebra inside and, in-fact, had several smaller pots attached to the inside of the ring, all of which simmering away just as intensely. Finally, a small table had been laid out, practically groaning under the weight of the items. There was a chopping board with a large, shiny knife; a couple of scrolls, with a bottle of ink and a few quills; a mortar and pestle; and mountains of plants and herbs of all kinds.
Msaidizi had complained initially, arguing that he was the assistant and thus it was unfair of him to sleep while she unpacked. His ire only doubled once it was revealed that it was closer to lunchtime than breakfast, that the time had just passed noon, and that he had been left to sleep for nearly a whole day.
Zecora, for her part, just laughed and waved a hoof dismissively. “I would’ve been quite the jerk, to send you straight to work,” she said, as she passed over a wooden bowl of vegetable stew. “Besides, I thought you might have needed your rest, for now I have for you a real test.”
“Oh? And what’s that, Miss?” Msaidizi asked between mouthfuls.
Zecora took two cups (made of gourd halves) from the table and walked over to the cauldron. She filled both of them from the pot that had tea brewing in it, and (making sure to move to an angle where Msaidizi could not see it) dosed one of the cups with something from another, much smaller pot. The liquid within this one was a deep purple in colour but dissolved into the tea colourlessly, leaving no trace. “To make a home suitable for me and you,” she began, passing the dosed cup to her assistant and sipping from her own, “I need to mix a special brew. But certain ingredients I do need, so you must gather them with utmost speed.”
She picked up a scroll from the table and held it out for him, and then pulled it just out of his reach a moment later. “You can read, correct?” she asked him.
Msaidizi frowned in thought. “I think so, Miss,” he said, putting down his bowl before reaching over and grabbing the scroll. Opening it, he smiled and nodded. “Yes, I can. I can definitely make these out.”
“That is good to hear,” Zecora said, taking another sip of her tea. “Off you go, my dear.”
“What, right now?”
“Of course.”
Msaidizi felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, and he wasn’t quite sure why. “I’ve never been here before Miss. What if I get lost?”
“Oh, you won’t,” Zecora stated with a faint smile as she handed over an empty basket.
The enigmatic answer didn’t assuage Msadizi’s fear; if anything, it just escalated it. “Well, what about predators? What do I do if I meet something that wants to eat me?”
The zebra rolled her eyes. “Predators mostly prowl at dusk and dawn,” she said in the same manner one would teach to a particularly young child. “Do it quick and you won’t be preyed upon. If you fear what you’ll meet on the path, just arm yourself and take my staff.”
Msaidizi tried to think of another excuse with which to stall, but could not. “Alright then,” he muttered in surrender. He took Zecora’s bamboo stick (placing it through the basket’s handle so he could carry both of them in one hand) and started out deeper into the woods. But before he even took two steps, he opened the scroll to take another look; something he noticed made him stop. “Um...”
Zecora clicked her tongue. “Again with this chatter! What now is the matter?!”
“Nothing, Miss. Nothing!” Msaidizi assured her, raising his (now quite full) hands in placation. “It’s nothing important. Just that, well, I can’t help but notice that you sometimes write in rhyme...”
“And I can’t help but notice that you’re still here,” she quipped. “Now off with you, my dear!” With that she leaned over and slapped him on the rump with the back of her hoof, causing him to give out a yelp (more of surprise than pain, really) and scurry off out of sight.
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So he is running around naked? Or does he still wear some kind of pants?
.
Also great story so far and nice Luna there in the dream sequence
Ooh first to comment for my first time.
Didn't notice any errors other than the use of awake as a verb. 'Wake' would fit in that sentenece.
I smirked at the reference to Luna in Sleepless in Ponyville.
...Isn't he cold?
1806665
Razzin' frazzin' readers point out things...
If I just lie, and say something like 'He's Norwegian' will you forget ever asking that?
1806713
...maybe. Depends on how much you're willing to pony up to make sure this embarrassing little incident doesn't reach the press. Let's say... Four internet brownies. And one lolcat. Seems like a reasonable offer to me, unless you want Fox News to get wind of this...
1763299
Long time since you posted, but hoodoo is more or less the same as magical herbalism then?
The princip that all plants have some sort of magical properties, and if mixed right it wil trigger aditional, or totally different effects.
Correct me if i am wrong
excellent
Its odd that his dreams "correct" him, plus the amnesia. Its kinda like the world (or something else) is forcefully changing/conforming his psyche to "fit" in, keeping most of his intellectual capacities intact, but erasing most human socio-cultural traits he had.
Cuz its the only way i can see it justifying how he could read Zecora's writting, and not making a deal of his nakedness (id expect him to at least try to get some stuff on his back for basic warmth, bug/scratch protections, unless whatever that screwing with his mind was just that effective and the climate allows nakedness at all times).
Amnesia and mind-screwing. Its kinda neat in a way, but it also make him blank and unresponsive to outside stuff, he cant react in much shock (his reaction was pretty tame to the talking zebra) if he got no "normal" to base his reactions from. He isnt curious or amazed because of it too.
Anyway, still like it so far and im curious about where it will be going.
I normaly avoid HiE fics like poison but this one is strangely comical while keeping a balance in interaction and character depth between the two so far. I'm in and intrigued!
1807183 Too late for that.
gamesprays.com/files/resource_media/preview/mon-dieu-6134_preview.jpg Iz he really NAKED!? If I wazn't already hooked into zis story I would stop reading.
But pleaze tell me zat he will be getting some clothez soon!
i really like this fic so far
Does he have Barbie Doll Anatomy? If he's nekked, it helps the immersion a little.
at least you didn't give him a name that has a click in it.
Sure enough both he and Zecora are going to find out the he needs some clothes. He is going to catch cold walking around naked and wiggling he's wiener.
(Joke) Alt. Title: The Helper Skelter Human
1806713 if he reads swahili
would he be black?
1809938
I just realised the ambiguity there. No, the list is written in Equestrian, since that's the language he and Zecora use to communicate.
As for the guys race - I dunno, really. I'm not going to try specify it. Make it whatever you imagine.
I like the idea behind the story, but the whole mind-screwing the human is obviously going through makes this really, really creepy.
1810611 White guy it is
Stalker Luna is at it again.
1812268 Your avatar just makes everything better, Bob Kelso.
1820755 thank you Mr.Rage
imageshack.us/a/img545/531/yvxa1.png
1824569
Based on the hints given throughout that whole scene, I'm thinking Luna was watching in on his dream. She was the one correcting him.
1806713 *Is Norwegian, sees comment, starts snickering.*
I know this is kinda late, and you may have addressed this in later chapters but...
There is are very good reasons for him to wear clothing.
1) Warmth; We have very little hair on our bodies to hold onto it. While in spring/summer this isn't a problem, come winter he will really start to realize how important clothes are.
2) Protection; Again, little hair means nothing between him and things like bugs, thorns, branches, poisonous plants etc. This walk through the woods should awaken him to this fact.
3) Genitalia; Humans have no sheath. So without pants they are just hanging out for anything to look at.
1806713 Another typo,
Should be a comma, not a semicolon. Wrong type of list for that.
The awkward you realize the guy is naked and Zechariah kind of slapped him in the behind...
Never trust google translate
2794010 Whatever you say, Fear Dubh.
2406029 You understand Swedish... stupid question since our languages are similar.
:D
1807308
OI, EVERYPONY!!!
"helper"- Really? You should also call him Friday, a kind of Robinson Crusoe in reverse.