> Helper Monkey
>  by Moonton
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1 - Meetings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last few days in Equestria had been nothing short of extraordinary. First, it was the Summer Sun Celebration which involved a lot of work and preparation beforehand and a lot of partying and recovery afterwards. This year’s was the thousandth of such an event, very special indeed. The honour of hosting such a momentous occasion had fallen upon the cosy, little town of Ponyville which had been abuzz with anticipatory activity for the past couple of weeks.

But then, disaster struck. Nightmare Moon, thought to have been merely an old mare’s tale, had returned. The princess had mysteriously disappeared. And the night was to, apparently, last forever. It very well might have, if something miraculous had not happened. Six rather ordinary mares (well, five; one was the protégé of the sun goddess, after all) had turned out to be the new Elements of Harmony. Nightmare Moon was defeated, washed away in a kaleidoscopic burst of ancient magic. Princess Celestia returned, the dawn rising with her. And best of all, the defeat of the villainous Nightmare Moon brought the return of Princess Luna, the moon goddess, who was accepted into her sister’s arms with much love. Cue the fanfare and celebrations all across the kingdom.

None of this was known to two certain individuals, however. One was pulling a cart holding all her worldly possessions along a dusty road, heading for the Equestrian border. The other was a little ways up that very same road, behind some bushes, trying to eat some hopefully non-poisonous moss he’d found on a rock.





The individual pulling the cart was named Zecora. She was a zebra: black and white stripes, a tail and mohawk to match, and a tribal symbol of the sun on each flank. She wore golden bands on her neck and on one of her front hooves, large gold rings on her ears, and a large brown travelling cloak with hood.

She was travelling to her new home. Zecora felt that a change of scenery from her native land would be welcome and had decided that Equestria sounded like a nice-enough place to start again. So with some packing and tearful farewells (and perhaps not enough thought on things like currency exchange rates, house prices, or possible discrimination), she’d started her journey.

As said journey seemed to be nearing an end, the grasslands ahead rapidly gave way in lieu of woodlands. The Everfree Forest, if her map was correct. There was also a giant billboard by the side of the road with a smiling pony couple and the words “Welcome to Ponyville! Enjoy your stay!” painted on it.

“I very much plan to!” Zecora thought to herself happily. She decided that this seemed the perfect moment to take a break. The road behind her had been long and tiring, and the billboard offered some welcoming shade. She parked her cart, pulled out a small packed lunch and water gourd, and pushed back her hood. She settled down on the cool grass with a satisfied sigh.

Her peace was to be short-lived, however. She’d hardly even made a dent in her food when something made her ears prick up. It was a distant sound just on the edge of hearing, a faint susurration that came some distance behind the giant sign. She crept back to her cart, pulled out a long bamboo rod, and pointed it in the direction of the billboard.

“Hello?” she called out in Equestrian, her newly-learned language sounding musical on her tongue. Feeling emboldened with the hefty staff in her hooves, she added,  “Is somepony there? If you’ve come to cause trouble, you’d best beware!”

There was no response. Faced with this mystery and her newfound bravery, she pulled her hood up and cautiously pressed her back against the billboard. She strained to hear what the sound was. It was somepony—or something—muttering to itself. Or maybe it was having a conversation with something. Zecora couldn’t hear any other voices, but what she was listening wouldn’t make sense if the mysterious voice was alone.

“Look, I am sorry about this,” the voice was saying, “really, I am. But I haven’t had anything decent to eat in, well, I can’t remember. Circle of life and all that. You understand, don’t you?” The voice paused for a moment, before continuing with conviction. “No, don’t give me that look. It’s your own fault; you should have been faster.”

Zecora had heard about enough. Steeling herself, she turned the corner to the back of the billboard, jumped through the bushes found there, and brandished her stick. “And just what is going on—” what she saw behind those bushes caught the phrase in her throat.





It reminded her of a monkey, almost like one of the chimps from her homeland (which were fond of playing practical jokes whenever they weren’t busy stealing fruit or throwing their own faecal matter). Except this one was much bigger at, what she guessed was, around twice her height. It wasn’t easy to tell though; it was squatting and hunched away from her rather than standing upright. It was practically bald; of the few noticeable amounts of hair it had, the most was on its head, followed by a much sparser amount on its limbs.

At Zecora’s sudden entrance, the creature spun around. It looked less like a chimp in the face with a less pronounced jaw, brow, and forehead, but a more pronounced nose. Its eyes were also a bit larger and more expressive, with white sclera rather than black. Also unlike the chimps from the zebra’s homeland, this one was exceedingly gaunt in the face. It was clear it hadn’t eaten in quite some time.

Whatever this creature was, it had a mouse’s tail hanging out of its mouth and a look of surprise on its face. Its surprise quickly turned to fear: fear of the strange hooded figure with a weapon that had jumped out of a bush. It opened its mouth wide and yelped. (The mouse inside leapt out and ran away with a squeak of joyous relief.) Zecora screamed in response and the creature shouted again. This repeated a few more times until, acting on instinct rather than rationale, Zecora hit it in the face with her stick.

> Chapter 2 - Greetings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a very impressive hit. The bamboo rod whistled as it swung through the air; and as it connected with the creature’s nose, it gave a loud, hollow “thwack”. Such was the force that the ape-thing ended up spinning away from the zebra and landing face down in the dirt with its hands covering its face.

“Hah!” Zecora shouted, adrenalin rushing through her. Her satisfaction quickly drained away, though, as the creature just lay there. It didn’t yelp and try to run away, as other animals are wont to do when they’re beaten, nor did it attack. It just continued to cover its face, giving off gentle cries. Zecora worried, as she leaned in towards it. “It’s... sobbing? Oh dear, just what have I done?”

“Hello?” she offered, pushing her hood back and taking a step closer. “Are… are you alright? I’m sorry; you gave me a fright.”

At her voice it stopped crying and went stock-still; Zecora feared it was about to jump up and either run away or attack after all. After a few tense seconds, it mumbled something too quiet for her to hear.

“Excuse me?” she said, leaning in.

It mumbled slightly louder, “I said—”

Zecora noted the deep voice. “Of course. Now I see. ‘It’ is most certainly a ‘he’.”

“—‘You can talk? Were you talking to me?’ ”

Zecora couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Of course she could talk. And besides, what would he have done if she’d said “no”?

“Of course I can; what sort of question is that? And yes, I am,” she eventually spat.

The creature fell silent again. After a few moments, he sighed and said, “Okay, sure, why not? It’s not the craziest thing I’ve seen so far.” With a pained grunt he rolled himself onto his back and pulled himself into a sitting position. The bottom half of his face was generously smeared with drying blood; thin trickles of crimson still dripped from both of his nostrils.

With the creature in a sitting position, Zecora easily saw just how far his ribs protruded. Any bravado the zebra had felt from her powerful bamboo strike was long gone. More than anything, she felt pity with a generous heaping of guilt.

“Ow! I think you broke my nose,” he remarked in a detached tone of voice, touching his face and wincing.

She put sheepishly put her stick down and stepped closer. “Here, let me see. Perhaps I can help.”

The creature snorted and turned away. “Suuure, let the crazy magical talking zebra that broke my nose closer! No way!”

Zecora answered with a roll of her eyes, “Quit fussing and hold still. You whine like a whelp.”

He snorted with false amusement again but didn’t turn away. With great care Zecora put a hoof on each side of his head, turning it this way and that to examine his nose from different angles. To her trained eye, it didn’t look as damaged as she’d feared. Giving a relieved sigh to herself, she said, “No need to fret; your nose is fine. It will soon feel much better, acquaintance of mine.”

She tapped it gently.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Tsk-tsk. You complain more than a foal. The blow I dealt took little toll.”

“Oh shut up! It still hurts!” the creature snapped, his patience beginning to wear thin. He gave an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Is there any particular reason you jumped out of the bushes and hit me?” he asked through clenched teeth. “If you’ve come to rob me, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

“I’m not out to wildly roam but merely travelling to my new home,” she explained, raising a hoof in a placating gesture. “I heard a strange noise and came to see. Then I met you, and you met me.”

“Hang on, why are you doing that?” the creature interrupted, lowering his hand to look at her.

She tilted her head in puzzlement. “Doing what?”

“You keep speaking in rhyme. Why do you do that?”

“I don’t speak in rhyme. Name one I’ve said. Maybe I ought to reexamine your head...”

“But you just—“ The creature raised his palms in front of himself in surrender. “You know what, never mind. Continue.”

Zecora cocked an eyebrow again. ”This monkey-thing is quite strange indeed.” She forgave the interruption and cleared her throat. “Anyways, for hitting you, I am sorry. Could we begin anew? Hello, my name is Zecora, and who are you?”

“I can’t remember.”

“What?” The suddenness and unexpectedness of his reply made her blink.

The emaciated stranger now looked anxious rather than annoyed, as if his answer had worried him as much as it had confused her. “I can’t, um, remember my name,” he said, staring at the ground with his hands on his knees, “or how I got here, actually. Every time I try and think to before, everything gets all… hazy… and my head starts to hurt.”

The pity Zecora felt for the creature increased, along with her sympathy. “Oh, my. Such a shame, to not remember your own name,” she said to him, placing a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “May I ask—since there’s little around but grass and peat—whatever have you been finding to eat?”

“Oh, you know,” the creature mumbled in what he probably hoped was nonchalance but sounded more pained than anything, “moss, mostly. Hasn’t killed me yet so it’s probably good for me, right?” He then gestured an arm vaguely in the direction of some boulders which had ragged, puke-green moss clinging to their sides.

This sight was the last straw for Zecora. She knew that if the creature kept eating nothing but lichen, he’d soon starve. The rocks themselves probably contained more calories. They certainly contained more minerals. So, she had an idea.

“That is it. I’ve heard enough,” she declared. “It’s clear living out here is far too rough. I beg of you please, come stay with me.”

The creature looked up at her, with many emotions battling on his features. There was confusion at her offer, hesitation and worry (she had hit him with a stick, after all; and he still had his own blood on his face) but there was also a hint of hope. “As what?” he asked carefully. “As a pet?”

“As an assistant,” Zecora reassured him, with another pat on his shoulder. “Goodness knows the help I’ll need. And you, of course, will have to feed. We both know there’s nothing here, so please—if you would—come with me, my dear.”

The creature still seemed unsure. “I don’t know,” he muttered, looking down again. “Thanks, but I don’t know if I’ll be suitable enough to repay you.”

His words cemented the zebra’s decision further. She could already see him being an ideal helper (he was quite tall, had opposable thumbs, and looked as if he could be quite strong if he put on some weight), she was certain of it. Even when obviously starving, he had refused her aid, thinking himself unworthy. That sort of modest ethic Zecora heavily respected, so she decided to pull out the big guns.

She reached into her cloak and pulled out a large, ripe-looking peach. The creature’s eyes immediately flicked up and locked onto it. “A pity, if our choices could not be wed,” she said offhandedly, struggling to not smile as the creature’s eyes stayed glued to the fruit as the hoof holding it moved. “I’d get my help, and you’d get fed.” She then bit into it, deliberately letting the juices flow down her face and drip onto the ground.

He whimpered softly at the sight, and it was nearly impossible for Zecora not to chuckle.

“But you’ve made your choice,” she said with a heavy, theatrical sigh. “You’ve said ‘no deal’.” She finished the peach off in another few bites and then turned around. “I’ll take my leave.” She grabbed her stick and started to walk back to her cart, only looking back to gesture towards the mossy rocks. “Enjoy your meal.”

Zecora hadn’t taken a half-dozen steps before he called out, “Okay, okay, wait for me!”





“By the spirits, he can eat!”

Once they had both reached her cart, Zecora started passing various foods to the creature. He devoured his way through two whole bunches of bananas, a bag of maize bread, and four gourds filled with water. She felt the need to snap something along the lines of “Not so quick, or you’ll be sick!” but decided to hold her tongue for the time being. Finally, he seemed sated and leaned back against the wood with a happy sigh. Zecora chuckled at the sight.

“Feeling better?” she asked as she hitched herself.

The creature looked and her and gave her a large, genuine smile. “Very much so, Miss Zecora. Thank you.”

He began to move forward to walk beside her but stopped as the zebra pointed a hoof. “In the cart.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he protested. “You’ve been kind enough.”

“Despite first impressions,” the zebra countered with a smile, “I do in fact have a heart. So please, rest awhile; sit in the cart.”

The creature opened his mouth to say something but decided to relent and clambered in. Once they had started moving, it only took a few minutes for the gentle rocking to lull him to sleep. Zecora couldn’t help but chuckle again, especially as he started to loudly snore.


> 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.

> Chapter 4 - Questing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What was that all about?”  Msaidizi thought sullenly to himself, as he ambled through the forest. For as long as he’d known her (all of two days, admittedly) Zecora had never been angry at him. Mildly mysterious perhaps - he still felt that there something odd about a talking zebra, although if pressed he wouldn’t be able to say why – but she’d never been angry at him before.

He guessed that it was probably his fault. After all, he did eat her food and then sleep in her cart for a whole day. Perhaps he’d accidentally crushed one of her prized possessions? With a sigh he decided that he’d just have to do his job as well as he could, and then apologise afterwards. Be the better stallion.

“Wait, the better what?” Msaidizi stopped and replayed that last thought, confused. “Why did I say ‘stallion’? That’s not the right word at all! That’s...“. A sudden thumping headache struck him, like the ones he got whenever he tried to think about the distant past, and he found himself having to lean against a tree and use his spare hand to cover his eyes and cup his temple in an effort to dull the pain. He made a mantra of hissing through his teeth with each breath until, blessedly, it passed. When he took his hand away, he noticed some mushrooms at the base of the tree.

“Oh, hey! Neat!” Msaidizi said, unfurling the list. “Let’s see: Flat top, sort of grey-blue, silver spots... ah, here it is!” he did a double take when he saw what it was called, reading it again just to be sure he’d gotten it right. “It’s really called the ‘Blue-Grey Silver Spot Cap’?” He rolled his eyes the lack of imagination and bent over to pick them, but when he did that the basket slid off the end of the bamboo stick and clattered on the ground. Sighing angrily at his incompetence, he picked it back up and discovered that the basket hadn’t been completely empty after all. There was a small compartment in the bottom, which contained two small glass bottles, with pyramid bases and cork stoppers; a square of dirty cloth; and a couple of small drawstring bags. Msaidizi decided to move them into the basket proper in case he needed them, throwing in the mushrooms after.

Further and further away he trekked, crossing things off the list as he went. From a clearing full of orange poppies he took a dozen seed pods (“Eat these seeds, and you will find that it soothes your pain, but dulls your mind” Zecora had written on the list). These went into one of the bags. Around some boulders he found scraggly brownish ferns, which were apparently called ‘Old Mare’s Trouble’. A handful of those went in the basket. Next came several bulrush heads, from a pond full of stagnant, foul-smelling water.

Other things on the list were harder to get. ‘Spine Root’ proved to be particularly tricky – it was an ugly, fat and round tuber that shivered and shot out thin, prickly spikes from its top whenever something came close to it, growing them back in seconds. After painfully discovering this (the list had warned him, but he’d thought it had sounded stupid and ignored it, to his later regret) Msaidizi resorted to hiding behind a tree and throwing rocks at it to make it fire, then trying to rush up and pull it out the ground before it could grow its spines back. On the third try he succeeded, but his victory was cut short when the tuber decided to shoot one final burst in its death throes, before finally lying still. Even with it dead, he decided to play it safe and wrapped it in the piece of cloth.

Wild Blackberries were also on the list, but every thorny bush Msaidizi found was stripped bare. After what felt like a couple of frustrating hours of searching he could hardly believe his luck as he came across a glade full of them, practically straining under the weight of their fruit. He quickly snatched the amount needed, but before he could grab some extra for himself a swarm of bulbous, glittering insects of many colours appeared. Their wings buzzing loud enough to hurt his ears, they descended upon the bushes and devoured the fruit in seconds, before disappearing back into the canopy as fast as they’d arrived.

All in all, Msaidizi considered that to be rather unfair.





The final item required was called ‘Golden Moss’ and could apparently only be found at the forests edge, on tree branches that stretched over into ‘Equestria’ (whatever that was, Msaidizi guessed it was a place. A country perhaps). The list described them as “A yellow moss, of shining hue. Brings good health (and fortune too!)”

Finding the forests edge was simple enough, he just had to walk in the direction the foliage got thinner in, until eventually he found himself stepping out of the shadowy forest and into the bright light of the late afternoon. The view was breath-taking, rolling fields of grass and flowers whispering gently in the wind, under a cloudless blue sky. The sun was wonderfully warm and the breeze was comfortably cool.  To complete the idyllic picture a town could be seen in the distance. It seemed to be mostly composed of white, thatched-roof cottages, but there also seemed to be some sturdier buildings and even what looked like a park filled with large tents.

“I wonder what lives there?” Msaidizi had thought to himself. “Maybe more zebras, like Zecora? I hope they’re friendly.”

Along the forests edge he walked, just enjoying the sun and the birdsong, when he saw it. An enormous piece of Golden Moss hanging from an outstretched branch, so big that Msaidizi was certain he could wrap up in it if he wanted to, wearing it like a slightly damp fleece. Placing his basket and stick at the base of the tree, he (after a few false-starts) clambered up the trunk. He then worked his way to the branch and ever so carefully sidled along it, until he was close enough to stretch over and grab it. “Come on, you stupi- whoa!” Just as he caught hold of it he lost his balance, and with a crash and a thump Msaidizi fell out of the tree altogether and onto his back.

“My... everything” he softly moaned. His pain was fast accompanied by worry when he realised that another voice beneath him was moaning as well. He’d landed on someone! “Oh dear, I’m so sorry!” he began to stammer. “So, so sorry! I was jus-“

The other voice interrupted him with a gasp of delight. “Hey!” it exclaimed in a feminine tone. “Is that Golden Moss?!”

Whatever it was Msaidizi had landed on pulled herself out from under him and walked –no, trotted – over to where his prize had fallen. “Oh my gosh, it is! It’s such a big piece too. You’re so lucky; I’ve been looking all day and haven’t found any!”

“Subtle. You should probably help her”. “I think it might be too big, actually” he offered tentatively, pushing up into a sitting position with a grunt and finally getting a look at who he’d landed on. She turned out to be like Zecora in shape, but the details couldn’t have been more different. Instead of black and white stripes, she was a surprising pale pink in colour, with lime-green bouncy curls instead of a Mohawk and jade eyes.  She also appeared more feminine in form than the zebra, with a rounder muzzle, more circular eyes and pronounced eyelashes. She did have a tattoo on her flanks (Msaidizi made a mental note to ask Zecora about those sometime) but it was a trio of daisy flowers rather than a black and white sun symbol.

The pony (“Pony! That’s the word! Of course it is!”) gave a large grin and fluttered her eyelashes (he didn’t know why she did the latter, she wasn’t even looking at him). “Oh, really?” she asked, guessing where the conversation was headed.

He got up, walked over to his basket and picked up his list. Rifling through it, he nodded and said “Yes, I only need about a third of this. You can take the rest, if you like”.
The pony gave a squeal of delight and eagerly ripped a piece off the moss, then took the remainder and draped it across her back.  “Thank you so much!” she gushed. “You’re such a gentlecolt!”

Msaidizi snorted. “I’m not sure what that is, but thank you, I think?”

“What do you mea-“ For the first time the pony actually seemed to see him, and more importantly see that he wasn’t another of her kind. Her reaction was surprising to him to say the least. Her eyes widened as her pupils contracted, and she took short gasping breaths as she backed away with an expression of pure terror. “M-m-m-MONSTER!” she shrieked, jumping a full foot into the air (the Golden Moss she was carrying falling to the ground) before turning around and running away, screaming bloody murder all the while.

“Miss! You dropped your moss!” Msaidizi called out to the ponies fleeing back. He made a move to pick it up and follow her, but decided against it. She’d seemed quite friendly at first, but her reaction towards him had left the assistant feeling hurt and annoyed. “Fine, be that way” he muttered to no one in particular, as he went back to his list. “Okay, that seems to be the last thing! Now I just need to...” He frowned and gazed into the middle distance. “I’m lost, aren’t I?” he sighed. “Fantastic”

He went over the list again, turning it over a couple of times. “She said I wouldn’t get lost, so is there something written on here or- hang on!” There did turn out to be something written on it, at the very bottom of the back side. “Read out loud” Msaidizi read aloud, squinting at the words. They were written in a language he didn’t understand (presumably the one Zecora spoke where she was from) and he was unsure how to pronounce them. “Uh...  Roho, kuchukua yangu nyumbani kwa bibi?”

The effect was immediate. After the last syllable left his lips Msaidizi dropped the list and stood ramrod straight, his arms stiffened and at his sides. A pale dot of purple sparked in his eyes, growing and darkening until they were entirely consumed by the colour. With jerky movements he picked up the basket and bamboo staff, turned to a seemingly randomly direction into the Everfree Forest, and broke out into a sudden sprint.





Back at the camp, Zecora was taking it easy. Once she’d sent her assistant scurrying off she only had a few more preparations she could do, and the rest was for when he got back with the ingredients. So until then, she’d just lay down next to the fire, with a cup of tea in one hoof and a good book in the other. Occasionally she checked the progress of the sun between the trees and guessed the time.

She perked her ears up at a distant sound, and with a smile of recognition she put the book down. It was a distant crashing, growing steadily louder and louder. After a few minutes Msaidizi burst out of the undergrowth and into the middle of the clearing, where he carefully put down the basket and stick in that stiff manner. The purple light then faded from his eyes, and he gave a brief look of confusion before crying out and falling to the ground, taking in deep gasping breaths as if he was drowning.

“Aha!” Zecora smirked, walking over to the basket and peering inside. “Good to see you! And how did you do?”

Msaidizi didn’t answer her, continuing to try suck in as much air as possible. Zecora took the basket to the table and emptied it of its contents, before sorting them into neat little groups. Some ingredients were cut up into little pieces beforehand and some were mashed with the mortar and pestle, but all of them ended up going into the cauldron. By the time this was finished her assistant didn’t sound like he was dying so much, so she took a water gourd from the cart and brought it over to him. It was snatched out of her hooves and drained within seconds. “What was that!?” Msaidizi finally managed to ask from the ground.

“Magic”

He looked at the zebra as if she’d grown a second head. “Very funny” he said, annoyed. “But seriously, what was that”

Zecora rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know I am no pretender. I laced your tea with ‘Return to Sender’” In answer to her confession he just stared at her blankly for what felt like an awkward length of time, and she found herself grinning sheepishly and taking a step back, explaining “You imbue some words into the brew, and when spoke, those who have drunk will return to you”.

“You did what?!” he burst out. “But, you, why-” A great anger began to grow in Msaidizi’s heart. He felt betrayed and violated, drugged and forced to run far longer and harder than he was capable of, and all for the benefit of a cruel, magical (apparently) talking zebra who didn’t want to bother finding him when he got lost doing a task she made him do! He was determined to not take it anymore!

Unfortunately the rest of his body seemed to have betrayed him as well. Whenever he tried to push himself up, his arm muscles sang in agony before collapsing under him. Everything was sore (even places he didn’t previously think could be), and his legs felt one errant twitch away from giving him the worse cramps of his life. “Fine” he muttered into the dirt, defeated. “Will that be all, miss? I’d like to take a break now”

Zecora smiled warmly and patted him on the head. “Yes, quite” she said. “Although like to watch this part, you might”

Msaidizi just managed to find the energy to turn his head as Zecora went to work. She filled up a cup from the cauldron, and splashed it on the roots of a random tree (random to Msaidizi anyway, in truth she’d spent a while picking out the perfect one). She repeated this action several more times, until the ground surrounding it was beginning to soak, and then wrapped the Golden Moss around the trunk. Next she drew a wide circle around the tree in the liquid and sprinkled raw ingredients around the inside of it.

With the preparations completed, the ritual began. Zecora began to dance, a simple stomp-stomping motion at first but it became more impressive as she hopped up on her hind legs and continued it from there. She waved her forelegs back and forth through the air and chanted in her native tongue, in a wailing ululating tone. Msaidizi found it all a bit humorous at first, but that rapidly changed to fear and wonder as he noticed what was happening. Thin tendrils of mist began to rise from the ground within the circle, swaying like the tentacles of some vast underground beast, and growing fatter as they grew taller. Whenever one grew to a certain height it reached out towards the tree in the centre of the circle and latched on.

What happened next made the assistants jaws slacken in amazement. With a great amount of noise, of birds taking flight in alarm and wood and sap creaking, the trees surrounding the circle began to shrink. Leaves were shrinking into the branches and the branches were sinking into the trunk. Any plants on the forest floor receded as well, receding back into the earth. The ingredients scattered around the circle were absorbed as well, included the Golden Moss which sank direct into the bark.

Inside the circle the misty limbs began to pulse in time with Zecora’s hooves, and as fast as the trees outside were shrinking the one in the centre began to grow, with even more noise than the others. Although it was becoming much taller, the majority of its growth seemed to be centred on the bottom of its trunk, as it grew wider and wider, its roots growing monstrously fat and outreaching to boot. Holes began to appear in the sides, revealing the interior to be hollowing out. 

“Like a house!” Msaidizi realised.

As fast as it began, it ended. With one last note that was practically a screech Zecora fell back onto all four hooves, panting heavily and coated with sweat. With the spell broken the mist retreated back into the ground with unnatural speed, accompanied by the crack and whoosh of rushing air as it hurried to fill the void left behind. It was over; the clearing the camp was in was now significantly bigger, and right next to an enormous hollow tree that was only a door away from being a home. Their home.

Satisfied, Zecora wiped her brow with a fore hoof gave Msaidizi another warm smile. “Time to unpack” she said.

> Chapter 5 - Apologies, Trepidition (and then a bit of Exposition)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

About a week had passed, and in that time much work had been done. The magically enlarged and hollowed tree had been turned into a home proper; with all the furniture placed inside and a door put on the entrance hole (Zecora had one at the bottom of the cart, as it turned out. Window frames made of sticks filled the smaller holes in the trunk, with thin cloth curtains hung on the inside. 

The enormous cauldron had been dragged into the centre, and since the trunk seemed to continue being hollow quite some way up, a chimney hole was drilled into the tree. (Msaidizi pointed out that having a fire inside a tree seemed like a horrendous idea, but he was ignored). In addition, both a latrine and well had been dug behind the house (far apart from each other, for obvious reasons) and several species of local herb had been planted at the clearing’s edge and allowed to grow as freely as it wanted, for an easily available source of potion ingredients.

As for Msaidizi himself, three square meals a day and a warm place to sleep were having a noticeable effect on him. Although he still looked underweight it was no longer morbidly so, and thicker, dark hair had begun to grow on his chest, limbs and face. In addition the soreness and cramps in his muscles had faded and the blisters on his feet had burst, the soles toughening like leather.

Things were only starting to improve purely from a physical standpoint though. Psychologically, he could have been a lot better. Ever since Zecora had slipped him that potion, he’d been feeling a wealth of negative emotions. A lot of it was a sense of betrayal at how callous the zebra could apparently be, drugging others for her own ends, along with a heap of anger at how she didn’t seem to care or even notice how painful the experience had been for him. But before these feelings could lead to any confrontation they were always throttled and replaced with a much more omnipresent feeling of fear. The fact was that he was afraid of her, afraid of the power she seemed to possess and afraid to cause complaint lest it be turned against him again. For all he knew she was one bad mood away from turning him into a frog, or something equally horrible.

“I’m such a coward,” he had thought to himself in his darker moments. “Afraid of standing up to a zebra half my size! If only I could just leave and run away from it all!”

But as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just leave. He’d wanted to, and spent many an hour just staring out into the forest, willing himself to run, but he couldn’t find the resolve. He had nowhere else to go, and while he was beginning to learn the many plants and animals of the forest, he was still completely incapable of surviving in the wild. If he ran he’d just end up starving to death again, or perhaps be ran down and eaten by some predator. True, that pony town was less than an hour’s walk away, but they would not help him. The first one he’d met had ran away screaming and calling him a monster, and the few he’d seen from then on had done the same, running away before he had even got a chance to say a ‘How do you do’.

In essence, he was trapped. So he just kept his head down, worked hard, and always made sure to eat and drink from the same source as his mistress (so nothing could be snuck into it). Sure, the vice-like, cold grip of anxiousness he felt in his chest whenever he was in the same room as her was horrible, and he’d had trouble sleeping (even discounting the constant dreams of being watched he found himself waking up at every little sound with his heart pumping) but surely it was better than the alternative?

“It could be a lot worse” he (badly) assured himself, trying and failing to suppress a yawn. “I shouldn’t complain, really.”

With that thought, he pushed himself up to his feet and stretched. He’d finished all his chores early that day, so he’d spent the afternoon just lounging at the edge of the forest, reading a book he’d taken from the house (it was a book about natural remedies or something, he hadn’t been paying too much attention). All in all, it had been a pretty good day. But now the sun was starting to set, which meant that soon he had to go back to the house and cook supper.

“But that’s nothing to worry about” Msaidizi hurriedly thought. “I’ve kept out of trouble. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”.

The reason he’d taken to doing the cooking (apart from that it was something he seemed to enjoy doing, and that doing it was in his job description) was that he could make sure no potions or spells could be slipped into his food. He’d been extra careful to always serve his own food and drink, to never leave it unattended, and the few times Zecora had cooked he made sure to watch her hooves every step of the way, and (as stated before) only eat or drink whatever came out of the same cauldron or kettle she used for herself.





 Five days ago... 

“I’ve baked us some bread for dinner, see?” Zecora said, holding out a slice to her assistant. “Won’t you share a piece with me?”

“Oh, um, thank you, miss” Msaidizi answered, fidgeting slightly. “But I’m not hungry”.

She gave him a concerned look. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “You’ve said the same thing for two days long”.

“Oh, no! Not at all!” Msaidizi said, waving his arms in placation as he wracked his brains for an excuse. “Everything’s fine. M-maybe I just don’t need to eat right now?”

‘Yes’, he decided. ‘This would probably work’. They both had their suspicions on what type of creature Msaidizi actually was, but neither knew for sure. He could exploit this. Ignoring the thumping of his heart, he added “Your guess is as good as mine” and made what he hoped was a nonchalant gesture.

Zecora looked doubtful for a moment, but eventually conceded his point with a shrug. She stuffed the slice she was holding into her mouth before turning away to cut another, and behind her back Msaidizi sighed in relief.





Two days ago...

“I really don’t mind making the tea as well, miss.” Msaidizi argued. “I already do the cooking, it would be no bother!”

“But neither is making tea much effort for me!” Zecora countered. “Besides, you are my assistant. If I let you do all the work that would make me quite the jerk” she added with a smirk, filling a cup and passing it over.

There was a few seconds of silence as the pair just stared at one another, before Msaidizi realised that she was waiting for him to take a sip. Probably to see whether he liked the taste or not, or perhaps (the increasingly paranoid half of him whispered) to see the effects of whatever she had spiked it with.

He couldn’t drink it. He mustn’t.

But he had to, she was watching.

Slowly and with the utmost care, he took a sip. It tasted how the tea usually did (black, they never had any milk and the sugar ran out yesterday and had yet to be replaced) but for the briefest of moments, Msaidizi thought he could taste something else.

“Mmmm!” he hummed appreciatively, giving a thumbs up (the gesture was lost on Zecora) and trying desperately not to swallow.

Once again they stared at each other in an increasingly awkward silence. She was wondering when he would swallow his tea and take another sip (since he seemed to enjoy it so), and he was waiting for her to turn around so he could discretely spit it out (since she seemed to be was some sort of evil enchantress who was probably trying to poison him).

What Msaidizi didn’t count on, however, was the zebra’s patience outlasting his oxygen supply. What breath he held quickly ran out, and not swallowing became harder and harder as his body metaphorically screamed for air. His head began to feel light and the thumping of his heart pounded in his ears. Finally he could hold it in no longer and with a great gasp he spat the tea out and was bent over double taking deep, heavy breaths.

“Makini! Are you alright?” Zecora cried out, rushing to his side to see if she could help. She moved to put a steadying hoof on his shoulder, but at her touch he suddenly stood up.

“I’m fine thanks!” he shouted, his tone fast and manic. “A little just went down the wrong way, that’s all!” With one jerky spin he turned around and walked to the door. “Oh look, such a lovely day! I think I’ll go for a walk!”

Zecora looked out the window, and saw that it wasn’t a lovely day at all, it was relatively windless but the rain was coming down in thick sheets. His reaction was beginning to worry her. “Are you sure you are okay?”

“Never felt better!” he replied (still loud and fast in voice). “I’ll be back later! Goodbye!”

With that he threw the door open and not-quite-ran outside, leaving a very bemused Zecora behind to clean up his spilled drink. Once he was out of sight of the house he sat down by the base of a random tree, covered his face with his hands and whimpered a little.





Today...

Everything wasn’t fine.

The journey back had been rather uneventful. As the sky gradually darkened the birdsong was replaced with the shuffling of smaller creatures in the undergrowth, and the occasional howl or cry of a (thankfully distant) predator. The trees overhead made the route especially dark, but Msaidizi knew the way well enough. Just find the poison joke patches glowing faintly by the dirt road (taking great care not to touch any – he hadn’t seen its effects yet but he’d certainly been taught of them) and follow it for a little while. Eventually you would come across a bamboo mailbox standing next to the road, which marked the small side-path that would lead you to Zecora’s home.

Something was wrong though, something that made Msaidizi even more anxious than before. Smoke was coming out of the chimney, which meant that either Zecora had forgotten the time and had started brewing something, or... with a gulp he opened the door, and his worst fears were confirmed as he saw the zebra pouring stew into two bowls.

“Welcome back!” she said with a smile. “It is good to see such punctuality”. As she moved the bowls over to some seating rugs placed on the floor, she explained “You’ve been working hard lately – to my delight - so I have decided to cook tonight”.

‘You’ve also been more nervous than a gazelle amongst lions’ she mentally added. ‘Perhaps you’ve been working too hard’.

Msaidizi nodded and went to sit down, although he no longer felt like eating. “I shouldn’t have spent my afternoon so far away” he thought to himself. “Maybe if I’d kept close to the house, this wouldn’t have happened”. The anxiousness around his heart gripped so hard now that he felt it difficult to breathe. When Zecora handed him a bowl he could not raise it to his lips, and even if he could have he wouldn’t have been able to open his mouth.

“Is something wrong?” Zecora asked, tilting her head slightly and giving him a quizzical look.

Msaidizi just shook his head. “I’m not very hungry” he started to say, but his stomach betrayed him by giving a low grumble.

Zecora stared at him for a moment or two, and then gave a small smile. She got up and went to one of the cupboards, and returned with a small pot in her mouth. “Perhaps a pinch of salt?” she offered, but Msaidizi didn’t hear it. He was too busy internally panicking, thinking back to the Return to Sender incident and only too easily seeing the similarities between then and now. “No no no no no no no!”. She took his silence for consent and moved close, and when she was close enough to shake some into his stew, his fear boiled over and with a yelp he threw the bowl into her face.

“Hiyo ni ya moto! Nini ni vibaya na wewe?! Kijinga tumbili!” Zecora exclaimed and swore, shaking off the stew that now coated her head and was seeping into her Mohawk, her anger mixed with confusion. Msaidizi for his part began pushing himself away across the floor, stuttering and spluttering and seeming close to tears. “I’m sorry!” he wailed. “I’m so sorry, miss! Please don’t hurt me! Don’t put your magic on me again or turn me into a frog or-“

She raised a hoof, and Msaidizi shut up.  “Whatever is the matter, assistant of mine?” she asked with authority in her voice and anger on her face. “It’s clear you have a problem that is far from benign”.

Said assistant hesitated. “You already know” he said to his feet, a touch of defiance managing to creep into his tone, now that the jig was up.

“Tell. Me. Leave nothing out!”

And so he told her. He told her of everything that had happened since he’d first been sent to gather reagents, how he’d felt at being sent away so unexpectedly harshly. How he’d gathered the ingredients (especially the final one, and the strange pony he’d met while doing so) and discovered himself lost. At no longer being in control of his body, and feeling it being forced to run with no regard for terrain, while his overexerted muscles screamed in agony. And finally, at how he’d live in fear of her ever since. Zecora stayed silent throughout this, only stopping him to ask the occasional question or request elaboration. As she listened to it her expression began to soften, and once or twice her ears drooped. When it came to his descriptions of her potion’s effects her eyes widened in sudden understanding, and her expression changed from anger to guilt.

‘In hindsight, this all seems quite obvious. Oh dear. You’ve done it again, Zecora!’

“Msaidizi, I...” she said softly, walking over and placing a hoof on her assistants shoulder. “I apologise. Now that the fog is clear from my eyes I see that I have not been treating you fair, but without tact and without due care”. She hadn’t realised it until now, but she hadn’t been treating Msaidizi like an equal worthy of respect, rather more like a particularly intelligent pet that she could hold a conversation with. The strange effects of her potion she did not predict at all, but the more she thought about it the more sense it made. Her assistant was a creature she’d never seen before, one she’d never even heard of before. It was foolish of her to assume that they would affect him the same way they affect zebras or ponies.

“Believe me when I say ‘these words are true’” Zecora continued. “That potion was not meant to do that to you”

“It wasn’t?” Msaidizi’s brow creased in confusion (and a great deal of relief).

“No, my dear”, she explained. “Return to Sender is meant to guide not steer. It was not supposed to force you to strive; it is brewed to remind you the way, not drive.”

“...oh.” For a few moments they sat in an awkward silence, then the assistant cleared his throat and tentatively asked “So, what now? Erm, miss?”

“Now?” Zecora repeated, with the beginnings of a grin on her face. “Take a pot to the well and bring me a scoop. You may not have noticed, but I’m dressed like soup”.





The weeks turned into months, and spring turned into summer. Slowly at first but rapidly gaining ground, the trust Msaidizi had for his mistress grew, and with it the life of hard work, regular meals and a warm hearth to rest brought him a sense of contentment.

His appearance continued to change as the seasons passed. Now he was beginning to show some muscle tone on his limbs, and all but a few traces of his previous starvation were gone (although he could still probably be called slim for his height). The hair on his head now fell down to his shoulders, and on his face a large beard stretched down to his chest. All this hair had to be maintained of course, and he’d been gifted a comb carved out of some kind of bone which he took care to use each day. Finally, he now had a set of clothes. After a rather unfortunate series of events concerning a prickly bush, a high flame, his height relative to Zecora, and her turning around too fast whilst he was right behind her, she had decided to teach him how to sew. She took him to one of the Everfree’s many ponds and pointed out which reeds to pick, and how to spin and weave their plain brown fibres into garments.

He’d made himself a shirt, with wooden buttons that he’d carved himself, and a similar garment covering the top of his legs (and any possible offensiveness) that he called ‘shorts’. After a flash of inspiration that came to him after another awful headache, he’d also made what he called ‘sandals’, which were essentially slabs of tree bark tied to his feet with vine. Zecora had laughed at them the first time she saw them, but she did admit their apparent usefulness. “Like a false hoof” she had remarked.

Yes, life was good for him. It was simple and honest, if sometimes a bit lonely (the only other talking creatures he knew aside from Zecora were the ponies, and whenever his path crossed with theirs they still ran away screaming, or even worse, some in the past few months ran towards him, with various looks that sent him fleeing instead). Adding to all of this, his dreams kept showing him that strange city of ghosts and the mysterious, omnipresent feeling of being watched which came with it.

Fortunately for him (or perhaps unfortunately, depending on your point of view) that mystery was going to be solved very shortly.





That night, he dreamed he was in a vast library, with bookcases many times taller than himself. He had tried to read a few of the books, but all the words were too squiggly and unreadable with any pictures blurred beyond recognition, so he just sat on a bench and waited. There were none of the ghosts here this time, so for the moment he was completely alone. It seemed that he did not have to wait very long for that to change however, as soon the feeling of being watched was upon him, and those familiar glimpses of dark blue with white sparkles set into the corners of his eyes. He decided that he would not turn his head this time though, or try and chase the unknown presence (as he had on a few previous occasions). He just sat there, waited for what felt like an hour (but could have actually been less than a minute, dream-time being what it is) and then loudly declared “I know you’re there! Show yourself! ....please?”

There was a small gasp just on the edge of hearing, and then – surprisingly – giggling. Delighted, girlish giggling, like a child with a new toy, ringing out from the shelves and growing closer. Said laughter then turned into a voice, which said “We wondered when thou wouldst ask us!”

From the shadows of the bookcases ahead of Msaidizi, she appeared. A pony, but unlike one he had ever seen before. Dark blue in colour, it was much taller than the others he had seen, with longer legs and neck, and it had wings and a horn! He had occasionally seen ponies with those before, but never with both! On its hooves it wore slippers of shining silver crystal, and on its chest and head jewellery carved of black crystal with a silver moon symbol embedded in the chest piece. “It’s the same as her flank tattoos,” the assistant noted.

But most wondrous of all was her mane and tail. The hairs were midnight blue, with glittering white sparkles within it, and it fluttered and blew by itself as if caught in an ethereal wind. It was like gazing through a rip in the world and into the very depths of space, and Msaidizi could hardly take his eyes off it. “I’ve known you were watching for months” he finally said, knowing that it sounded petulant but not particularly caring.

The mare giggled again. “Oh? That is most efficacious of thee! Not many notice us without our consent!”

Msaidizi got the impression that he was being toyed with. “Who are you?” he asked.

“We are the princess”.

That much seemed obvious (the crown was a giveaway, but it was not the answer he was looking for. “Princess...?” he prompted.

“Of Night and Love. Of Death and Dreams”.

She was definitely toying with him. “What I mean is: what should I call you?”

“’Your Highness’ will suffice for now” she answered with a smirk.

Msaidizi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guessed I walked into that one. Am I... in a dream right now?”

“Yes, thou art” the princess confirmed, looking around the library with a discerning eye. “And a most unique one it is! We hath not seen such sights in many a year.” One of the faceless ghosts suddenly walked into view, and the pair silently watched it with mild interest. It took some books from the shelves seemingly at random, and then walked back out of sight. “Now that we hath introduced ourselves” the princess said, in a suddenly businesslike tone. “We hath a task for thee”.

Msaidizi looked up at her, surprised. “Wait, what? No! You’ve left me with so many questions!”

“Mayhaps, but surely those can wait until-“. She caught his expression, and sighed dramatically. “Oh, fine!” she pouted in mock outrage. “Ask of us thy questions three”.

He felt that three questions were far too few, but Msaidizi decided to take what victory he could, and began thinking. “Why my dreams?” he asked after a few minutes. “I don’t think I’m a subject of yours, and even if I was, I don’t think I’m that special for a princess to visit them”.

The princess smiled. “Thou underestimate thy own rarity.” She said in what she probably thought was an assuring tone. “And thou and thy mistress are in fact living within our kingdom, so thou art indeed the subjects of us and our sister. But to answer thy question” Here she waved her hair and spread her wings for a moment, making herself look bigger than she was. “We are more powerful in dreams than thou know. We can be in many dreams at once, or even all if we so desired”.

“Well, that is absolutely terrifying” Msaidizi thought to himself. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of royalty that could peer into his mind while he slept. He had enough problems already, like... 

“What happened when I drank that potion?” he asked the princess for his second question. “Zecora said it wasn’t meant to act the way it did.”

“Neigh, it was not” she agreed. “Thou art a creature that hath never been seen in Equestria before. The laws of magic were not written for thou, and thus even we cannot predict what potions and spells wouldst do to thee. Some may not work at all, some may give any result, and some...” here she paused for dramatic effect “...may prove fatal”.

Msaidizi laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “W-well then! I suppose I shouldn’t drink any potions! Problem solved, yes?”

“It is... more complicated than that” the princess continued. “Equestria is naturally full of magic. It lives in the ground, in the trunks of trees, in the air and water itself. Simply living here will affect thou, before long“.  She caught the look growing on his face, and raised a hoof in placation. “But worry not! This is a land of harmony, and the magic is a part of that. In truth, the worst that would probably happen is that thou become more like our citizens, and the traits they share. Kindness, generosity...” she coughed and lowered her voice for a moment. “Musical numbers...”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that last one”.

“Generosity, we said”.

As he mulled over the line ‘become more like our citizens’, a strange thought wormed its way into Msaidizi’s head. “Am I... going to turn into a pony?”

The princess snorted in amusement. “Almost certainly not. Why, dost thou wish to?”

“You can do that?!”

The princess shrugged. “We can do many things”.

Msaidizi’s face went through a series of emotions. Horrified first, then to oddly thoughtful, and then finally settling on mildly disturbed. “No, no I think I’ll stay the way I am, thank you”.

The princess smirked again. “Then thou probably shan’t become one.” With that assurance made, she then pointed a hoof at him dramatically. “But enough of that! Thy mistress travels to a nearby town every now and again, doth she not?”

The sudden change of subject caught Msaidizi off guard, but he eventually managed a response. “Er, yes. Every month, I believe. I never go with her though”. He looked into the middle distance and added, almost to himself, “She always seems sad when she comes back, for some reason...”

“Tomorrow, she will be going there again, and this time thou art to accompany her.” With that she stomped her foreleg, the sound of the daintily shod hoof hitting the floor ringing with the finality of a judge’s gavel. “This is the task we hath set”.

With that the princess began to walk away, towards an opening in the bookshelves. In response Msaidizi jumped out of his seat and moved as if to stop her. “Wait!” he cried in protest. “Hang on, I haven’t asked my third question yet!”

“But thou hath!” the princess replied with amusement, not looking back. She did giggle, however. “Thou shouldst choose thy words with greater care!” With that she turned a corner and disappeared from sight, leaving the assistant alone in his dreams once more.

> Chapter 6 - Bridle Gossip, Day One (No rhyme this time)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day Msaidizi woke up earlier than usual, in the darkness just before the dawn. 

Immediately his thoughts went to his dream, and to the pony he’d met there. Had she actually been real? The entire thing seemed preposterous at first glance (he still felt that there was something indescribably odd about talking horses) but his new life with Zecora had rapidly taught him that thinking such thoughts often got him nowhere. 

Also of note was that the details of the dream refused to fade away like they usually did, instead they stayed clear and fresh in his mind as if it he had actually spoken with a princess just yesterday. Or just last night, as the case may be.

“I suppose I’d better go, then.” he decided. “Even if it was just a dream, I’ll have lost nothing. Besides, I’ve never been into the town before.”

As quietly as he could Msaidizi rose from his bed (a mat with a blanket and pillow – plans had been made for a proper bed to be carved, but neither he nor Zecora had ever really gotten around to it) and went through the curtain that separated the bedroom from the rest of the house.  The fire from last night had almost burnt itself out, but the remaining light it cast was just enough for him to find his way to the wood basket, and coax the cinders back to life without stubbing his toes on anything.

With that done, he began working furiously on his chores. Water was brought in from the well and added to smaller cauldron they used for brewing tea; the floor was swept; surfaces were wiped; and (taking utmost care not to spill anything on himself) any potions and ingredients left out were tidied away. By the time the sun began to rise and poke its light through the tree’s windows he had finished, and was in the middle of preparing breakfast when Zecora finally awoke.

“This is most unexpected!” she said in surprise, as she pulled the curtain back to see the spotless house. As a cup of tea and breakfast (apple slices and some hay) were placed next to her seating mat, she smiled and added “But far from rejected.” Msaidizi grabbed a cup and apple for himself and joined her, saying nothing but giving a small smile and a faint shrug at her praise.

For a while they sat in a comfortable silence, both content with their own thoughts as they worked their way through their food. As the last few bites were eaten Msaidizi cleared his throat and asked “Can I... go into town with you today, miss?”

Zecora put her cup down and look at him questioningly. “Are you sure?” she said. “You’ve never asked this of me before.”

“Well, no, miss” Msaidizi agreed. “But I’d like to go this time. I’ve never been before”. Thinking that perhaps that wasn’t reason enough, he offered “I could... carry any shopping? Maybe?”

Zecora rolled her eyes at that, but smiled all the same - while it was a nice offer to make, she never came back from the town with any bags she couldn’t carry herself. In thought she tapped the bottom of her jaw with a hoof, before making a gesture of nonchalance and saying “I see no harm in it.”

With their plans now made they finished their food and prepared to leave, Msaidizi strapping his sandals and putting his shirt on while Zecora put on her cloak. As she tied it together around her neck, she noticed her assistant’s latest sewing project, a half-finished cloak much like hers but larger in scale.  “On the subject of cloaks” she said aloud, pointing at his work. “How is your own? Is it nearly now sewn?”

“Hmm?” Msaidizi looked up from fastening his buttons to where she was pointing. “Oh, that. Yes, miss, as long as I don’t run out of reeds”. He grinned to himself, and added “Could you maybe do to it whatever it is you’ve done to your own? So that I look spooky when I wear it?”

In reply, Zecora tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” she asked, with just a hint of a smirk.

“You know, like when you put your hood up and your eyes glow” Msaidizi tried to explain, holding the door open for her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” Zecora insisted, in a tone of mock-confusion. She trotted past him and outside (still wearing that smirk), and said “Now let us away, on this glorious day!”





The walk to town was both beautiful and peaceful, as only the very best summer mornings could be. What sky could be seen from beneath the trees was cloudless and blue, and the plants below the canopy were fully in bloom. Msaidizi would have been content to have just walked in silence, drinking in the surroundings and listening to the birdsong, but Zecora had other ideas. She’d been teaching him the names and uses of things found in the forest, and thought that now was a good time to put his knowledge to the test.

“This one?” she asked him, pointing to a patch of plant with jagged, triangular leaves and covered in fine hairs.

He didn’t even hesitate. “Those are Stinging Nettles, miss. You can make shampoo out of them, or tea, or just eat them if you cook them first.”

“And this one?” she pressed on, pointing out a glowing, light blue mushroom squatting just inside a hollow log.

This one gave him pause, but he knew the answer. “That’s a Glowcap. They glow in the dark. And they also come in other colours, I think?” A nod of approval confirmed that they did. 

“But not in pink.” Zecora said. “Why that is, I cannot even begin to think.”

Next she pointed to a patch of flowers just a little way off the path. There were small, star shaped, and a baby blue in colour with yellow centres. “And what are these called?” she asked.

Msaidizi opened his mouth, but shut it again after a moment of silence. He scratched his chin and thought long and hard while Zecora watched him silently, finding it difficult to keep a straight face as the seconds ticked by. “I don’t know, miss” he finally admitted.

Zecora chuckled. “It’s funny that here your memory is shot” she said with a grin. “For this flower is called the Fo-“

“Wolf” Msaidizi interrupted.

“What? No, it is called the-“

“No, look. There’s a wolf” he interrupted again. Without explaining further he ran about a dozen metres ahead and to the side of the road; where he kneeled down to examine his discovery. It appeared to him like a statue of a wolf, made of wood. Rather than being carved from a single piece it seemed to be made of multiple parts, all attached together in a way he couldn’t ascertain. Some sort of glue, perhaps. There were even neatly carved ‘teeth’ in the log halves that formed its jaw.

“It looks like it’s died” Msaidizi mused. “If it were alive in the first place, I mean”. It was lying on its side slightly curled up, in the same sad pose an animal approaching a peaceful end would make. And as Msaidizi examined it, he noticed there seemed to be something lodged into its chest, over where its heart would be. It looked like a broken off piece of bone or something similar, with thick orange sap leaking out around it. On a whim he reached out to grab it...

“Don’t touch that!” Zecora barked, the loudness and commanding tone of her voice making him jerk his hand back as fast as lightning. She began to root around in her cloak’s pockets with urgency, muttering “Where are you, I had you just – aha!” 

She withdrew a glass vial with a small amount of oily-looking yellow fluid at the bottom. “Here” she said to her assistant, practically shoving it into his hands. “Dab this on your wrists and behind each ear”.

Msaidizi stared at the glass with some trepidation. While he had grown to trust Zecora, he was still very wary of unmarked bottles. “Er, why? What does it do? Uh, miss?”

“It’s a repellent” she explained. “The effects of it are most convenient.”

‘Well, that rhyme was a little weak’. “A repellent for what? Insects or something?”

“Something like that, yes. Now, if you would?” With a roll of his eyes Msaidizi did as he was told, uncorking the vial and dabbing some on him. It felt as oily as it looked, was slightly sticky, and had a thick medicinal stink. When he was done he handed it back to Zecora, who used the last of it on herself. They would have continued their game of ‘Name that thing’, but a little further down the path they found the carcass of a stag, picked clean and with a broken antler. After seeing that, they decided to walk in silence.





Thankfully no manner of beast attacked them along their journey, and before long they were out of the forest and steadily approaching the town. According to Zecora it was named ‘Ponyville’, which Msaidizi found faintly amusing (he briefly wondered if there was a place called ‘Zebratown’, and if so what it would look like). Regardless of whether its name was silly or not it looked very picturesque, with its quaint architecture and bright colours that were only accentuated by the perfect weather.

“Look! There’s one of the flying ponies!” Msaidizi said, pointing to the sky above the edge of town, where a pegasus could be seen hovering in place and facing in their direction.

“Pegasus”, Zecora connected. “And one with a horn is a unicorn”.

Msaidizi couldn’t quite make out the pegasus’ facial expression, but he could see that it was off-white in colour and that its hair seemed absolutely ridiculous, alternating between stripes of magenta and green. As he and Zecora steadily approached the town it began making gestures to (presumably) the ponies on the ground. Msaidizi waved to it (which made it make its gestures faster for some reason) and then it dived behind the skyline of the town and out of sight.

“I think they know we’re coming.” Msaidizi noted. “You know, miss, you never said what the ponies are like. Are they friendly?”

The answer to that question, unfortunately, turned out to be a resounding ‘no’. When they finally entered the town proper it seemed deserted, the streets empty and silent. Occasionally a pair of curtains would twitch, or a door Msaidizi was not looking at would rapidly open and slam shut, and the feeling of being watched was omnipresent. By the time they had reached the (empty) marketplace he thought he knew the reason why, and what he thought he did not like.

“Um, miss?” he asked, after a little while.

“Yes?” Zecora answered absent-mindedly. Like a ghost she went to and fro among the stalls, taking things from them and leaving little piles of glittering gold coins in their place. All of her purchases – an iron pot, a bushel of apples, some hay – she placed into a cloth sack Msaidizi was holding.

(If you are wondering where she got the sack, she bought it at the market as well. The bag stall was the first she visited).

“Should I leave? Are the ponies hiding because I’m here?”  When she didn’t answer, a thought came to him and his eyes widened. “Hang on, are they scared of you? Me I can sort of understand, since I’m bigger than them, and I haven’t seen a single pony with a beard, but you?!”

Zecora gave a shrug that was probably meant to look casual. “That is so” she admitted. “Why it is, I do not know”.

“And... you have tried not wearing the spooky hood? Miss?” Msaidizi pressed on.

Zecora hmphed, her tail flicking in irritation. “Yes” she said flatly.

“And this has this been going on every month?”

“Yes! What of it?” She snapped.

“That’s not right” he said, what parts of his face that weren’t covered by beard showing faint but definite anger. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve tried to be friendly. They shouldn’t be acting like this!” He put the sack down and went to read a signpost at the edge of the market. “I should go to whoever runs this town and complain!”

While his reaction may have made her happy, to Zecora his plan seemed pointless at best and escalative at worst. And she definitely didn’t want that to happen, sure the ponies hid from here, but at least she could still do her shopping! What if they decided to do something nastier instead? “Don’t. It does not matter.” she stated firmly.

“But, miss!” Msaidizi began to protest.

“No buts!” Zecora stated, putting her hoof down both figuratively and literally. “If I have to say this again, I will cuss! I do not want you to make a fuss!” She took a deep breath to calm herself, then said “Come, we are almost done. There is one more shop at which we will stop”.

“But, I, oh fine!” Msaidizi conceded, throwing the sack over his shoulder with a scowl. “But if this happens next time, I’m doing something about it!”

This last stop proved to be just as awkward and infuriating as the rest of the trip. They went from the market, up a long street and to a house with many flower-boxes by the windows and around the door. Zecora knocked, and waited. And waited. She knocked again, and waited again. After a while, she pulled her hood back started to dig at the ground with her hoof, dithering over whether to wait some more or just give up and go.

If Msaidizi hadn’t been so angry at all of this, he might have noticed the bakery at the end of the street, which was built in such a way that it looked like it was made of actual cake. Maybe he would have walked up to it to get a closer look, and perhaps drool over the delicious treats on display in the windows. If he had, he perhaps would have noticed the crowd of ponies watching them from the inside.

“She’s mysterious!” said the yellow one, with a pink mane and wings. Her name was Fluttershy.

“Sinister!” added the blue one, also winged but with a mane of rainbow streaks. She was (fittingly) called Rainbow Dash.

“And spoOoOoOoky!” finished the pink one, who had no wings but made up for it in bounciness. Her name (also fittingly) was Pinkie Pie.

But unfortunately, Msaidizi did not approach the bakery and thus did not hear any of this. This in the grand scheme of things proved to be a poor decision, as if he’d talked to the purple unicorn inside that was acting as the voice-of-reason, he and Zecora would have avoided a whole bunch of trouble later.

“She’s a zebra, she was born with stripes!”  The purple unicorn in question (named Twilight Sparkle, for those wondering) explained to her friends. “There’s nothing strange about that at all!”

“Well, what about that there monster she has with her?” the cowboy-hat wearing, orange and blonde pony (Applejack) protested. “Yah gotta admit that it just ain’t natural!” In fear she clutched the nearest pony to her and began to shake, a yellow filly with a big red bow in her red mane (her little sister, Apple Bloom).

Twilight scrutinised Msaidizi from the window. “I have no idea what he is.” she admitted (she guessed it was male, due to the beard. Either that or it was a she, and a very unfortunate one at that.) “But I’m sure there’s he’s perfectly natural. He looks sort of like a monkey, actually... but he doesn’t look like any monster I’ve heard of. He’s even wearing clothes!”

“Awful clothes” the pristine white unicorn of the group (named Rarity) muttered under her breath, with a look of faint disgust. “The shipwreck look hasn’t been in style for several years!”

“Well, I heard that she turned a monkey into that monster with her evil witchiness!” Pinkie Pie stated, jumping on her hind hooves and striking what she thought was a menacing pose. “And she makes it wear clothes to hide the bruises!”

“Bruises” Twilight deadpanned.

“Yes! Because she hits it! Because she’s a bad owner, because she’s so evil, and stuff!”

“Oh, the poor thing...” Fluttershy said to herself softly.

Twilight rolled her eyes and put her hoof down. “Pinkie, did you just make that up?”

“What?! Nonono, she totally d-“ Pinkie began, before catching Twilights eye and falling down on all fours. “Okay, maybe a little. But I bet it’s true!” She looked out of the window with suspicion, and then gasped. “Maybe the clothes are to make it appear friendly, so ponies get lured in! And then they both eat them! Just like my song said!”

“Ah don’t wanna git eaten!” Applejack said.

“You girls are being ridiculous!” Twilight chastised them all. “I’m sure there’s no truth to these rumours!  And if somepony here were actually brave enough to approach them, she would find that out for herself!”  With that she struck a triumphant pose and declared “And that somepony is going to be me!" 

She looked out the window, and the determination on her face was replaced with faint disappointment. “Oh, they’ve gone”.

“Well, that’s a relief!” Rarity said. “Now we can all get back to our happy, regular-“

“Hey!” Applejack interrupted with great distress. “Where’s Apple Bloom?!”





“I can’t believe that town!” Msaidizi said, as he and Zecora reached the forests edge. Ahead of them a ground fog was beginning to form, obscuring colours and turning the forest into a patchwork of black silhouettes on white.  At the edges of the path (and in fact spilling onto it in several places) were thick patches of poison joke, which they took care to avoid. They would be bad enough to Zecora, causing whatever ill effects the plants thought were funny at the time, but (assuming the Princess’s message about him and magic was true, and it wasn’t all just a dream) there was no telling what they could do to Msaidizi.

“If she does appears in my dream again, what do I tell her anyway?”  he thought to himself. ”’Dear princess, today I went to town. All of the ponies there were rude and hid. So we went home, the end’?” Somehow, he had the impression that that simply wouldn’t be good enough.

“Do you know what I’m going to do?” he said to Zecora, as he carefully stepped over another bunch of glowing flowers.

“What?” Zecora replied dully. She’d hadn’t said a word since they’d left Ponyville, instead just pulling her hood back up and keeping her eyes focused on the road.

“I’m going to write a letter” he declared.

Whatever answer Zecora was expecting it wasn’t that. She actually stopped and tilted her head as she looked up at him. “Excuse me?”

“A letter” Msaidizi confirmed, nodding his head. “It will be a very strongly worded one”.

Despite her melancholy, Zecora couldn’t help but giggle at the mental image, putting a hoof up to her mouth. “That will certainly give them a fright!” she said. Then paused, and added. “That is, of course, if you can write?”

“I’m pretty sure I can, miss” Msaidizi offered. “I mean, I can read, can’t I? Writing is just that, but in reverse”.

Zecora wasn’t sure if her assistant had just said something incredibly profound or incredibly stupid, and was about to say so when a drawling voice shouted out “Apple Bloom!” from behind them.

Turning around, they say the yellow filly a little way behind them in the middle of the path, with a look of surprise and guilt on her face. And behind her, standing directly in the poison joke, were the six mares from the bakery.

“Beware! Beware you pony folk!” Zecora warned, as she backed away into the mist. “Those leaves of blue are not a joke!” 

While it may have been intended as a friendly warning, the ponies seemed to get the wrong message, instead running through the poison joke and placing themselves between Apple Bloom and her. “You keep that creepy mumbo-jumbo to yourself, ya hear!” Applejack shouted, which caused the rest of them (sans Twilight) to shout their own jeers and taunts.

“You know” Msaidizi thought to himself in a detached manner, as he watched all of this from the side of the road. “I think the cloak might be a problem. Perhaps the rhyming, as well. It did seem rather ominous, the way she said it.” He snapped out of his thoughts when he realised that the jeering had stopped as Zecora disappeared into the mists, and the ponies were now all staring at him.

“Twi, it’s staring at us” Applejack whispered.

“It’s fine, Applejack” Twilight insisted. She smiled at Msaidizi and raised a hoof in greeting. “Hello, sir”.

Msaidizi smiled back, and copied her motion. He opened his mouth, but before he could say hello back a small rock hit him right between the eyes, and caused him to stumble back with a hiss of pain.

“Rainbow!” Twilight scolded, spinning around.

“What?” Rainbow Dash protested, another rock already in her hooves. “He’s just standing there! It’s freaking me out!”

“Just stop for a moment, please!” With an angry sigh Twilight turned back and looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry about her, really! My name is Twilight Sparkle, what’s yours?” Msaidizi didn’t even have the chance to open his mouth before another rock hit him, and with fury in her eyes Twilight span around to the other ponies again. “Rainbow Dash!”

“It wasn’t me that time, honest!”

“Sorry, that was me” Rarity admitted sheepishly. “I may have panicked a little”

Now gritting her teeth in frustration, Twilight turned back to Msaidizi, only to let out a cry of frustration to see that he’d disappeared. “Great, now you’ve driven him off!”

“Ah well” Applejack said, clearly not caring. “Hopefully he’ll have taken that zebra’s curses with him!”

“There’s no such thing as curses!”





Msaidizi found Zecora next to the wooden wolf they had discovered earlier. Scraggly yellow flowers had started to bloom all over it, and she was slowly plucking them and stuffing them within her cloak.

“Those ponies are jerks” Msaidizi said.

Zecora just kept picking the flowers, and didn’t reply.

“Now I know why she’s always sad on these days” Msaidizi thought to himself. “And now that I know, I rather wish I didn’t”. “Shall we go home, miss?” he offered. “A nice cup of tea will make everything better.”

Zecora gave an amused snort as she picked the last of the flowers off the wooden wolf. “Oh yes?” she said.

“Definitely” he asserted. “And a biscuit or two”.

“That does sound nice” she admitted, with a smile.

> Chapter 7 - Bridle Gossip, Day Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once the pair had returned to their tree-home Msaidizi had wanted to immediately start on his retaliation scheme, but (as Zecora gently but firmly reminded him) responsibilities came first. Things purchased in Ponyville were unpacked, sorted and put away. Fresh water was brought in and firewood for the night was chopped up. The latter task took longer than Msaidizi would have liked, as the wood axe was built for equines, and thus was too long for him to use one-handed but too short to use with two. Still, he managed. 

As the afternoon began to turn into evening and the sun began its slow descent to the horizon, he finally found the time to enact his plan.

Unfortunately, there was another problem, which was learning to use a quill.

“Uhm, could I have another piece, miss?” he asked sheepishly, holding up a sheet of paper covered in ink splodges.

Zecora tutted, but handed over another piece all the same. “Your touch must be light, for your words to take flight” she instructed. “Press too firmly, you’ll spill the ink. Then your work will really stink”.

With exaggerated care Msaidizi tried again, slowly dipping the quill into the pot of ink and bringing it to the paper. He gave a sigh of relief when it didn’t immediately spit ink everywhere, and slowly he began to write. “Dear...” he said aloud, before stopping and looking up. “Who’s the leader of Ponyville, anyway?” he asked.

“Mayor Mare” Zecora answered, absentmindedly.  She was busy brewing something with the wood-wolf flowers she’d picked earlier, and didn’t bother to turn around to answer his question.

“Okay, a mayor. What’s their name?”

That question made Zecora pause for a moment. “Mayor Mare” she repeated, sounding amused as she turned around.

“Okay, so the mayor is a mare” Msaidizi pressed on, still clueless. “But what is her name?”

Now she just laughed. “That is her name!”

Msaidizi then looked at Zecora incredulously. He opened his mouth, and then shut it again. “Sorry” he said, “But just so I’m absolutely certain. The name of the mayor-“

“Yes…” Zecora prompted.

“Who is also a mare-”

“Go on…”

“Is Mayor Mare?” He paused again, and then said “Really, miss?”

Zecora laughed again. “Well, no” she admitted. “I do not really think so. I’ve overheard her called that once, but to truly think that would make me a dunce”. Her smile fell to a little as she shrugged and went back to her work. “And as you can expect, this assumption I’ve not had the chance to correct”.

“Yes, I can imagine” Msaidizi thought to himself, remembering the events of the day. “Every month, I swear, some pe-ponies”. 

He kept these thoughts to himself though, outwardly he was rather relieved. “I’m glad she’s not actually called that” he said aloud to himself. “If she was, it would just raise further questions”.

After a moment, he put the quill down to the paper. ‘Dear Mayor of Ponyville’ he finally wrote. Then ink spilled out across the page, covering the words. Msaidizi sighed, and got up for another sheet.





That night, Msaidizi had another dream. This time, he dreamt he was sitting at the table of a fancy restaurant, with low lighting and tasteful (not to mention expensive-looking) wooden furniture. The carpet and drapes were a deep rich red, and the table was covered with a simple black and white chequerboard tablecloth. 

“Oh dear, this again” he thought. “I hope this isn’t going to be a nightly thing”.  

A ghost in a tuxedo came up to the table and handed him a large menu, while another poured him a glass of something red.  Msaidizi took a sip, and found it surprisingly palatable, fruity but quite dry. “Wine” he suddenly thought, the word dropping into the forefront his mind like a rock. “That’s what it’s called. I think? Maybe”.

As he took another, larger sip, the lunar princess appeared in the seat across the table. It didn’t feel to him that she had suddenly appeared, rather it felt like she had suddenly always been sitting there. “Good evening” she said.

Surprised, Msaidizi both spat out his drink and attempted to push his chair backwards. Unfortunately his muscles seemed to receive mixed signals, and he ended up falling out of his chair and spitting wine all over his face. 

“Art thou quite well?” she called down, sounding more amused than concerned.

With a groan Msaidizi got back up, wiping the drink off his face. “Yes, fine thanks!” he snapped. Then he remembered just who he was talking to, and added in a softer tone “Um, I mean, your highness. Sorry, but could you not just show up like that? I nearly had a heart attack”.

“Oh? And what wouldst thou prefer?” The princess asked, now casually leaning forward and sipping from her own, suddenly-always-there glass.

“Well, I don’t know! Maybe some bells, or something? Or just a ‘tinkle tinkle tinkle’ noise? Don’t just... appear!”

The princess chuckled softly at Msaidizi’s exasperation, but stopped when she caught his expression. “Yes, of course” she said, attempting to mollify him. “We apologise. We shouldst be more considerate”. A tuxedoed ghost came back to their table, and the princess’s horn began to glow a cerulean blue. A similar glow surrounded the menu card, and (to Msaidizi’s amazement) it floated over to the ghost’s hand. “Two salads, we think” the princess said to it. The ghost bowed to her, then turned and walked away.

“More magic, I’m guessing” Msaidizi thought. “Seems useful, at least. They don’t have thumbs, after all”. He cleared his throat, and said “Sorry, your highness, is there something you wan-“

“To business!” The princess boomed, cutting him off. She pulled a pair of silver half-moon glasses from somewhere and delicately placed them on her muzzle, and then leaned on the table with steepled hooves. “Now then, my little non-pony, hast thou completed thy task?”

Msaidizi swallowed nervously. He had expected this question to come up, but he after the events of the day he hadn’t been looking forward to it. “Well, yes, your highness. I went to Ponyville with Zecora, just like you said”.

The princess leaned closer. “And how did events transpire?”

“Excuse me, your highness?”

“’What happened’, we mean to ask”.

“Oh, well” Msaidizi rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “We... we went shopping, had a little walk around” (the look of undivided attention she was giving him was unnerving) “and then we went home.” 

Feeling that perhaps wasn’t enough, he added “It’s a lovely looking town, by the way “.

“And didst thou meet the locals?” The princess pressed on, leaning in closer still. “Anypony in particular? Perhaps one of six certain mares?”

“One of six- oh. Um, would one of those happen to be Twilight Sparkle?” A simple nod confirmed that yes, he was thinking of the same six ponies as her. “Oh, well. Er, yes”. He took another sip to buy himself some time (his glass didn’t seem to be getting emptier, not that he noticed) and eventually said “I did meet them. The purple one was… nice”.

The princess stared at Msaidizi for a moment longer, then gave a dazzling smile and leant back with satisfaction. “Good” she said. “We art pleased with thy efforts”. She grabbed her wine glass in her telekinetic grip and in victory drained the liquid in one fell swig. “It is good to see thou making friends”.

Msaidizi winced. He **really** hadn’t been looking forward to this. He briefly considered just lying to the princess, but decided against it. While he may avoid trouble now, it probably wouldn’t be long before she discovered the truth (if her dream-powers were anything to go by) and then he could be in even more trouble. 

“We didn’t, um, make friends, exactly”. Msaidizi winced again as the princess turned her gaze back onto him. “We went to town, and they all sort of, well, hid. And then on the way back, they-“.

He hesitated again, as the look she was giving him had gone quite dark, but when you’ve jumped off a cliff there’s nothing you can really do except fall (and perhaps hope for the abolition of gravity), so he cleared his throat and he pressed on. “On the way back, the six I think you’re talking about said… some things. They may have also, er, thrown rocks?”

The princess’s expression didn’t change, although a muscle did start to twitch under her left eye. They sat there in silence just long enough for Msaidizi to feel like he should say something, when she suddenly asked “May we see?”

“I’m sorry, your highness?”

“Thy memories of the day, we mean. May we see?”

Msaidizi didn’t know what she meant at all, but he was too relieved that she wasn’t angry to inquire about it. “Well, I don’t see why not, I suppose”.

The princess tapped her hoof on the table twice. Two ghosts approached the table, holding a large silver-rimmed mirror between them. They set it down next to her before standing to attention at either side. “We thank thee” the princess said to Msaidizi, before leaning and tapping the mirror with her horn. The glass rippled like liquid, swirled, and then changed. To Msaidizi’s amazement it began to show the events of the day from his perspective, as if a camera had been behind his eyes. 

“I’m glad you asked me first” he managed to say. “Because the fact that you can do that is terrifying”.

The princess rolled her eyes and waved a hoof across the mirror. The images on it began to speed up, minutes and eventually hours moving by in seconds. Occasionally a sound came from a mirror, tinny and echoing as if a long way off. The sound of footsteps, a snatch of birdsong, now and again a word or two. The princess’s eyes darted to and fro, seemingly managing to take it all in despite the speed. Also on occasion she paused the mirror and her eyes darted between it and Msaidizi, no doubt making some internal judgement. When the actual confrontation appeared on it, the princess looked quite annoyed at first, but then she put a hoof to her mouth and giggled.

“What? What is it?” Msaidizi asked, craning to see. The princess pointed, and he realised that the ponies (sans the little one) had been standing in poison joke the whole time, the sparkling blue pollen liberally dusting the bottoms of their legs. “Oh dear. That’s not good.”

“Neigh” the princess agreed. “But far from fatal. Perhaps we can call it ‘just desserts’”. She tapped her hoof on the table again, and the mirror’s surface rippled once more before turning back to normal. The two ghosts either side of it bowed then carried it away.

“We will not lie, we are disappointed” the princess said. “Not with thee, thy actions have been exemplary given the circumstances.  No, we feel the fault lies with Twilight Sparkle and her friends.” She harrumphed and added under her breath “And Sister said this was going to be easy…”

For a little while they sat in silence, both deep in thought. Msaidizi cleared his throat, and asked “You’re not going to… do anything, are you, your highness?”

The princess raised an eyebrow. “And why wouldst thou ask us that?”

“Well, it’s that that-“ he paused, searching for the right words. “We don’t really have many friends, your highness. I know I’m in no position to make enemies. And I think that, I don’t know, the ponies might not be too happy with Zecora if you were to punish them or anything…” 

His voice petered off under the princess’s gaze, Msaidizi suddenly feeling a little stupid. “I don’t want to cause a fuss” he protested.

The princess held her gaze, the eyebrow kept high just long enough for the silence to become awkward. Then it lowered, and she smiled. “That’s very kind of thee, to think that way” she said softly. “A little cowardly, perhaps-“

“Hey!”

“-but kind, all the same. Very well then, we shalt not interfere” 

The princess’s ears perked up, as if hearing a sound Msaidizi could not. “Sadly, it seems that our meal will have to wait. If we are correct in what is to happen next, we trust thee to do what is right. Do not be the one to disappoint us this time”.

Around them, the restaurant was starting to swirl and the details turn fuzzy as Msaidizi began to wake up. “Wait, already?” he exclaimed. He didn’t feel they’d talked nearly long enough. “Don’t I get to ask more questions first?”

“Neigh. Perhaps another time, but not now” The princess said, her voice definite but not unkind. Blackness began to creep in around the table, and soon it and her were swallowed by it and Msaidizi was left in the dark. “But I don’t understand what you want me to do!” he wailed.

Just before he fell into the unconscious nothing between waking and dreaming, the princess said something to him, so close and quiet that she might as well have been whispering in his ear. 

“Just be thyself”





The next day was business as usual for Zecora and Msaidizi. In fact, by the zebra’s standards it was something of a lazy day. While basic chores were tended to no trips were made into the forest, and before the morning was even half gone the pair founds themselves simply lounging around with nothing important to do at all. Zecora was kicking back with tea in one hoof and a dog-eared book in the other, while Msaidizi was working on his cloak (and only occasionally pricking his thumbs).

For the six mares from Ponyville, however, the next day was anything but usual. Each of them found themselves struck with sudden, strange afflictions, each one embarrassing in its own way. 

Twilight found her horn covered in blue spots and (in defiance of biology) floppy. 

Rarity’s normally perfectly-groomed mane and tail became so frazzled and knotted that if she could actually see herself in a mirror, she would faint. 

Rainbow Dash’s wings had been flipped upside down, giving her all the aerial control and grace of a sick trout caught in a hurricane. 

And so on for all six of them. All of them were shocked, and all but Twilight thought they knew who was to blame.

“It’s a curse ah tell’s ya! A curse!” declared the (now less than a foot tall) Applejack.

Privy to all of this was Applejack’s little sister Apple Bloom, who couldn’t help but feel that she was to blame. After all, it was her following Zecora and her kooky-looking minion that led to the (possibly curse laden) confrontation in the first place. 

So, with the bravery and determination that the young so often possessed, she decided that she would march right up to where the zebra lived and fix everything.

“If it is a curse, maybe saying sorry and asking nicely will get Zecora to stop” Apple Bloom reasoned. “And if it’s something else – maybe some weird Everfree sickness  – she might know a cure for it. She does live there after all”. She chuckled to herself, and then mentally added “And maybe then Applejack will stop being such a scaredy-pony about her...”

Her plan prepared, she walked into the Everfree forest, determinedly not stepping on or touching anything and sticking to the path. Personally, she didn’t see why everyone kicked up such a fuss about the place, while the forest was full of mildly interesting sights (flowers; birds; a thick patch of weeds in the shape of a stag; an indentation in the undergrowth by the road, suggesting an animal had been lying there recently; etc) there didn’t seem to be anything particularly scary or dangerous in it.

The worst she’d encountered was in fact her now-diminutive sister, who had hitched a lift on her back all the way back in Ponyville and had then tried to lecture her into abandoning her quest and turning around. ‘Tried’ being the key word, since Apple Bloom had just put her on a tree branch and left her with a triumphant “Ahm the big sister now!” within a minute.

It wasn’t too long until she discovered a small path by the road, with a bamboo mailbox (of all things) next to it. Apple Bloom took this to be a good sign. While her experience of evil ponies and monsters was somewhat limited (being mainly from books; the odd radio play; and her own imagination) she’d never heard of one that received post before.

Following the path, she finally found what she’d been looking for. From the way ponies talk you’d think Zecora lived in a cave, with lava flows and skulls outside the door. Instead it was a rather quaint (if, admittedly, a little spooky) tree house that reminded her of the Ponyville Library. Albeit one that had zebrican masks on the outside and dangling potions hanging from the branches, but the comparison still stood. From inside the house Applebloom could hear Zecora laughing a long belly laugh, and she decided to peer into one of the windows to see why.

What Apple Bloom saw caused her to put her hoof in her mouth, to stop herself laughing as well and revealing her presence.  The monkey thing was juggling apples with a wide if bemused grin on its face, while Zecora watching from the sidelines, laughing so hard she was gasping for air.

“I didn’t know you could juggle so!” Zecora managed to say, between gasps.

“I didn’t either!” Msaidizi said, trying to keep his eyes on the flying fruit. “I’m not sure if I can stop, actually!”

“Huh. I thought his voice would be deeper or something” Apple Bloom mused.

So focused was he on keeping the apples in the air, that he didn’t notice he was steadily backing up to the wall. When he made contact with it he did so with slightly more force than expected, which caused some bowls and (here Apple Bloom let out a small gasp) some rather sharp looking knives to fall. To everyone’s surprise, Msaidizi managed to spin around and catch them with an “Oh dear!”, and before he knew it he was back the same was he was originally facing but juggling them as well.

The spinning steel caused Zecora to stop laughing, but she was finding it difficult to not smile. “Be careful!” she said. The knives began to impact with the bowls and themselves while in the air, creating a series of clinks, thumps and tinkles. “Desist with that stunt, or the knives you’ll blunt!” she said again, this time with more (although not much) authority.

Msaidizi didn’t, though. He had wanted to, but a little switch seemed to have been flipped in his mind, and he found himself stamping his foot along to his juggling. Combined, the sounds began to form a beat of sorts. “Blunt the knives, will I miss?” he asked with a laugh.

Outside the window Apple Bloom was grinning, as she knew what was going to happen next. She’d seen this sort of thing before. Zecora however, had not. “Msaidizi?” she asked, with the wariness of someone who may not know the future, but is relatively certain they aren’t going to like it.

“Blunt the knives, bend the forks!” Msaidizi began to sing.

“Msaidizi”

“Smash the bottles and burn the corks!”

“Msaidizi, stop!” Zecora protested, laughing again despite herself.

But Msaidizi didn’t, in fact he was now getting into his stride and singing loudly.

“Chip the glasses and crack the plates!” he roared.
“That’s what Miss Zecora hates!
Cut the cloth, tread on the-“

He hesitated for a moment, as if he’d forgotten the words, but he soon thought of a suitable one and started singing again.

“Cut the cloth, tread on the cheese!
Leave the peelings wherever you please!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl!
Pound them up with a thumping pole!
When you’re finished, if any are whole!
Send them down the hall to roll!”

With a flourish, Msaidizi turned back to the shelves and somehow managed to defy probability by perfectly throw the objects he was juggling onto them. The bowls neatly stacked with the apples in them, with the knives neatly placed beside. “That’s what Miss Zecora hates!” he finished triumphantly, before falling to the floor thoroughly out of breath.

Apple Bloom couldn’t contain herself at what she’d just witnessed, before she knew it she was on her back laughing so hard that she wouldn’t have been surprised if those back in Ponyville could hear her. Her mirth turned to nervousness however when she had calmed down enough to realise nobody else was laughing anymore. 

And then she looked up, and saw the two faces staring out of the window her. Literally poking their heads out of the tree to look down at her, as the windows didn’t have any glass in them.

“Uh, hi?” Apple Bloom offered.





Discovery did not - as Apple Bloom had feared for a moment – lead to any sort of danger or peril. She was not promptly cooked up into any sort of stew, as Pinkie Pie’s singing would have her believe. Instead discovery led to a warm if wary welcome, including a complimentary drink and free pick of the fruit bowl. 

Zecora was delighted to have a guest, if a little surprised at a small filly being in the Everfree by herself. Msaidizi seemed happy for the company as well, but during her explanation of her visit he kept looking at her with a slightly puzzled expression.

“-ahn Twilight’s horn is all floppy ahn covered in blue spots!” Apple Bloom finished. She looked down and rubbed her hoof into the ground nervously. “Ahn ah was wondering if you could help, Zecora. Ah don’t know if it’s a curse or a sickness or something, but ah thought that, you know…”  She trailed off into embarrassed mumbles under the duo’s attentive gaze.

Zecora smiled at the filly and turned to Msaidizi. “What do you think, assistant of mine?” she asked. “Is this a problem that you can define?”

“Of course, miss” Msaidizi replied casually. She’d been teaching him about this sort of thing, after all. Plus he’d had the answer pointed out to him by a princess, in a dream, but he didn’t think he should let anyone know about that just yet. “It’s poison joke”.

“What’s that?” Apple Bloom asked, tilting her head slightly.

“It’s a magical plant. It’s a bit like poison oak or nettles, but instead of causing a rash it, well, does whatever it thinks is funny”. He caught the filly’s look of scepticism and shrugged. “No, I don’t understand how it has a sense of humour, but that’s what it does. If you’re short, it makes you freakishly tall. If you love to sing, it makes you mute, or gives you an awful voice. That sort of thing”. He looked to Zecora. “Er, that is right isn’t it, miss?”

“Quite correct!” Zecora confirmed with some pride. “Yes, indeed. So a cure you’ll need with utmost speed”. She picked up a piece of paper and wrote a list of ingredients on it, before passing it over to Msaidizi. “Luckily, this is not a difficult path. For the cure is simply a herbal bath”.

Msaidizi looked over the list, his lips moving silently. “Right, then” he eventually said. “This shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ll just go and get these”. 

He grabbed a sack and began to walk out the door, and was surprised when Apple Bloom jumped up and began to follow. “Ah wanna help too!” she said. 

Msaidizi looked to Zecora for instruction, and she gave him a nod. “Alright, then” he said to the filly. “Come with me”.

They walked a little while away from the back of the house in silence, until they reached a small glade. Looking over the list, he showed it to Apple Bloom and said “You find these three, okay?”

“Okay!” There was an awkward pause where both stared at each other doing nothing, and then Apple Bloom said “Uh, what do they look like?”

Msaidizi sighed. “Okay then, how about I just tell you what we’re looking for and you put them in the bag? They’re all common as muck, so it shouldn’t take long”. He looked at the list again and gave a description of the first one. “First, we need some hide root: Look for a bunch of round orange-red leaves sticking out the ground”.

A few seconds of searching later, and a handful of the scaly-looking tubers went in the bag. “Yah know, you’re not as scary as ah thought you’d be” Apple Bloom said.

Msaidizi rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. “I hear that a lot" he lied. “Next we’ll want some unicorn’s folly. It’s got a spiralling stalk with a white flower on the end”.

“Ahm glad you don’t actually eat ponies, too” she continued.

“Who said I eat ponies?”

“Well, mah sister said you did”.

“And who told her? Oh, grab those dandelions, we’ll need those”.

This continued for what felt like some time, the pair working together quite effectively. “Have I met you before?” Msaidizi suddenly asked out of the blue. “I’m sorry, but you seem awfully familiar”.

Apple Bloom gave a nervous chuckle. “Uh, yeah. Me and Twist tried to catch you once, remember? We put this cupcake under a box, ahn then we got a stick ahn some string, and-”

“Twist, Twist… oh! You mean that one with the red hair? And the glasses?”

“That’s right!” her laugh this time was more genuine. “Ah guess we didn’t really think it through, huh?”

“No, you didn’t” Msaidizi said, grinning faintly at the memory. “But I should thank you, they were quite tasty”. He looked at the list, and saw that they’d collected everything on it. “Okay, that’s the last one. Let’s go back now”.

When they returned to the hut, he saw that the door had been thrown open and that there were new voices inside. Angry voices to be exact, ones he felt he recognised. He thought it would be best if they waited outside for a bit, to see what would happen. But Apple Bloom had no such reservations (or just didn’t hear the commotion) and walked straight in. 

“Zecora! Ah think ah’ve got all the things you asked for! …What in Ponyville is going on here?”

What followed next, as far as Msaidizi could hear, was an incredibly awkward mess of accusations and explanations. Apparently the six mares had crept up to the house, heard Zecora singing, and had (somehow) come to the conclusion that she wanted to cook Apple Bloom into soup. They were also saying that their afflictions were somehow caused by Zecora cursing them all.

It was clear none of them were very well read on Everfree botany. That, or they were all bigots. Hopefully the former.

Thankfully, Apple Bloom’s appearance seemed to have prevented a fight from breaking out. She and Zecora had shared a laugh at the ponies’ assumptions, and then they had explained to them just what poison joke was and how to cure it. To add the icing to this metaphorical cake, it turned out that Twilight Sparkle had a book containing the cure the whole time, but hadn’t even bothered to read it because she distrusted the name.

“Literally judging a book by its cover” Msaidizi thought, mildly amused. “How fitting”.

The sound of hooves interrupted his thoughts. An agreement seemed to have been made inside, as everyone was now walking out. “-and then we can just visit the spa, and we’ll be cured!”  he heard Twilight say. When she caught sight of him she came to a sudden stop, which caused the five other afflicted ponies to bump into her. 

Him and they stared at each other for a moment, then Msaidizi cleared his throat and stiffly said “Good afternoon”.

“Oh mah Celestia, it can talk?!” Applejack exclaimed.

“Shush!” Twilight hisse at her, before turning back around to Msaidizi and smiling nervously. “Hello. Listen, we’re all-“

“It’s fine” Msaidizi interrupted. He thought he would be a little angrier, but really he felt more tired than anything. Apple Bloom's assertion that they weren't actually bad ponies (just silly ones) probably had something to do with it. There and then, he just wanted this whole business to be done with. “Let’s... let’s just get this over with, yes? Then we can talk”.

His reply seemed to have caught Twilight off guard. “Oh. Er, sure! Yes, that sounds great” she said.





The next few hours were ones of resolution. First Zecora, Msaidizi, Apple Bloom and the six other ponies walked back to Ponyville, nearly causing a mass panic. All it took was a few ponies shouting things along the lines of “They’ve all been cursed!” and “The horror!” and they all ran back indoors.

“Skittish, aren’t they?” Msaidizi commented drily.  Nobody bothered to reply.

The group walked up to a house with many flower-boxes outside the door (Msaidizi remembered it as the one he and Zecora had loitered outside yesterday) and Twilight knocked. The door opened a crack, and she had a quick conversation with the pony inside. They were talking too quietly for Msaidizi to hear, but he managed to find out that the name of the pony inside was Daisy. After a few hushed words Daisy opened the door a tiny bit more, practically threw a plain paper bag into Twilight’s hooves, and then slammed it shut again.

After that, Rarity led them to the town square, to a building with a trio of pointed purple roofs and large windows. The alleged spa, according to the sign. The ponies inside (a blue mare with pink hair called Lotus Blossom, and a pink mare with blue hair called Aloe, sisters by the look of it) gasped at the groups’ entrance, but one quick explanation later and all of them (sans Msaidizi) were ushered out of the foyer by Lotus Blossom. 

Msaidizi, for his part, would have been content to simply wait in one of the chairs there, but before he entirely knew what was happening Aloe had grabbed him by the shorts and dragged him into the room of his own.





“Oh, Miss Zecora?” Lotus Blossom said. “We’d just like you to know that your... er...”

“Assistant”.

“Yes, your assistant is being tended to by Aloe right now.” At those words, a hair-raising scream split the air.

“She says his back has, how you say? ‘More knots than a boating race’” Lotus Blossom elaborated.

> Chapter 8 - Interlude, a Celebration
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

While the day had been - for lack of a better word - saved, with Twilight Sparkle and her friends cured of their ailments and on friendly terms with the not-at-all malicious Zecora; there was still one more task that needed to be done: explaining the whole mess to Ponyville at large, to be specific. After some discussion, the group had decided that the best way to do this would be to head to town hall, explain everything to the mayor, and then let her give a speech explaining it to everyone else.

A small party was also to be thrown, at the insistence of Pinkie Pie. She’d originally wanted it to be a large affair, with fancy lights and a turntable, but luckily they managed to talk her down to a snack table and perhaps some streamers.

On the way out, they discovered Msadizi in the foyer, slumped in a green lounger and with a slightly vacant expression on his face. Aloe was standing next to him, chatting to another staff member and not noticing - or simply not minding - the hand slowly stroking her back, over and over.

“Er, he okay?” Applejack asked.

In reply, Rarity sighed wistfully. “Oh, I know that look. I, too, remember my first time at a spa.”

The group said their goodbyes and left, Msaidizi needing to be taken by the hoof by Zecora and led like a foal - something that set Rainbow Dash to giggling. Pinkie Pie dashed off to “ready the welcome wagon” as she put it, while everyone else proceeded to the centre of town. The townsfolk had stopped hiding in their homes and were watching the procession with a variety of emotions. There was still some fear and trepidation at the zebra and her large... whatever he was, but seeing them walking and talking with Elements of Harmony seemed to have assuaged most of it. Most just seemed curious, watching and commenting amongst themselves.

After a minute or so, the fact that he was going somewhere seemed to finally worm its way into Msaidizi’s head. “Where are we going?” he murmured. At his speech, there were a few gasps amongst the ponies watching, and the level of gossip increased a noticeable amount.

“To town hall, to sort out our problem once and for all” Zecora replied.

It took another minute for him to speak again. “Oh... Will the mayor be there? I have my letter.”

“What letter?” Rainbow Dash asked, floating up past his shoulder and hovering in front of his face. “Let me see that, big guy.”

Msaidizi reached inside his shirt and passed her a slightly crumpled, folded sheet of paper. She unfurled and read it, her lips moving silently for some of the longer words, and then she started laughing. “Yeah, this’ll definitely help” she said between guffaws. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”





The mayor was tan in colour with a steel-grey mane and tail, and a pair of half-moon spectacles, cravat and hairstyle that all screamed “authority figure”. She seemed nice enough, if a tad manically overworked. Once everyone had - somehow - managed to fit into her office and the situation had been explained, she seemed eager to help. Overtly so, perhaps, judging by how quickly paperwork was assembled and by how thick and fast apologies flew.

“Now then, Miss Zecora, if you could just fill all of these out, we can have this over and done with!” she said, pushing a stack of forms across her desk and giving an uneasy grin. “Then everything will be happy and non-litigious!”

Zecora looked from the paperwork to the mayor, whose smile widened and began to look desperate, and raised an eyebrow. “I believe that if you see under ‘Z’, you already have all these forms from me.”

The mayor’s grin fell, to be replaced with blushing embarrassment. “Oh, m-my mistake! Why don’t we head outside and wrap this up then, hmm?”

“Finally!” Zecora thought. “This has just been humiliating. And she’s supposed to be the mayor!?” While she still had no desire to rock the metaphorical boat, the events of the past day had left her with a measure of anger: partly at herself for putting up with being an unwilling outcast for so long, but mostly at the town for acting like she was some sort of monster. And now the mayor, the supposed voice of reason, was hoping to just sweep the past few months under the rug and act like they’d never happened. “The nerve of it all!”

She kept those thoughts to herself; however, since doing anything with that anger would [be] counter-productive and, indeed, rather childish. So instead she decided to concur with the mayor, saying “To finish the rest, would be best.”

Rainbow Dash, however, seemed to be enjoying the show. With another snigger she said “Hold up. There’s also this” and passed Msaidizi’s letter across the desk. 

The mayor flattened the paper out on the wooden surface and began to read, her eyebrows and muttering climbing higher and higher all the while. “Discrimination... unacceptable... mental anguish... legal action?!” Recoiling as if she’d been bitten, she looked to Zecora and squeaked. “H-how many lawyers did you say you had?”

Forcing herself to keep a straight face, she waved a hoof casually and said “Oh, none”. She waited until the mayor gave a sigh of relief, and then added “But to find one is easily done.” 

“T-that won’t be necessary!” the mayor nearly shouted, slamming her hooves on the desk. “How about we do this speech right now, good? Good! Let’s go right now!”

With that declaration made, the mayor all but sprinted out the door. The group followed her outside and stood behind her as she gave a hasty speech to the assembled townsfolk. She went on about how sorry she was that the welcome was so late, but she was sure the ponies of Ponyville were a lovely bunch and would try their best to make Zecora feel welcome. She then gave the crowd a look that clearly stated “or else”, which caused a few nervous chuckles and guilty looks.

“So, without further ado, let’s all give a big Ponyville welcome to Zecora and...” the mayor hesitated, then turned to Msaidizi. “Sorry, I forgot to ask. Your name is...?”

Msaidizi blinked. “Oh, uh. It’s Msaidizi, miss”. Seeing the polite incomprehension on her face, he tried to explain with “It means ‘assistant’ or ‘helper’ in Zebra, apparently.”

The mayor turned back around to the crowd and finished with “Zecora and Helper!”

It wasn’t a very good speech, but there was applause all the same. Applause, which only doubled when Pinkie Pie ran into the town square, pulling behind her what looked like an oven mounted on a wagon. With glee she hit a button on the side, causing confetti-spewing musical horns to protrude from the top and the door to open with a ding to reveal trays of baked goods both sweet and savoury. “Let’s party!” she cheered.

And so they did. The crowd divided itself into groups, most chatting and laughing amongst themselves, while others were dancing or indulging themselves by - what could only be-  the welcome wagon. Twilight and her friends disappeared into the crowd - Twilight practically dragging a laughing Zecora by the leg - and Msaidizi was left to sit on the town hall steps by himself.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it all. It had been an infuriating and embarrassing couple of days, but everything seemed to have worked out just fine. They’d been introduced to the town proper and even had a party thrown for them. Zecora was no longer an ostracised outsider, but was mingling amongst the crowd like a fish to water. And nobody had called him a monster, ran away from him or even - his thoughts darkened for a moment - thrown rocks at him. Yes, everything had turned out great.

But it just didn’t feel right. While they had - eventually - been welcoming, they didn’t seem to show much in the way of remorse for their past actions. As far as he could tell, nobody - with, perhaps, the exception of Twilight - was lining up to apologise for the past few months, and even the mayor seemed eager to try and forget anything had happened. And while no one was exactly running away from him, he couldn’t help but notice that he was given a berth just wide enough to be noticeable. But for all of that, he remembered what Apple Bloom had said and knew they weren’t bad ponies - just “silly”.

He still wasn’t angry exactly - after Aloe’s work he doubted he’d be capable of anger for quite some time - , but it was annoying, all the same. But then again, Zecora seemed to have forgiven them, so why shouldn’t he?

If he knew that said zebra shared similar thoughts, he might have felt better about them.

“Well howdy there, Helper!”

Interrupted from his musings, Msaidizi looked up and saw Rarity and Applejack approaching him. “Hello” he said, politely if perhaps a bit stiffly.

“M’ name’s Applejack, and this here is Rarity” she continued, momentarily taking the hat off her head and placing it to her chest in a gesture of sincerity. “An’ we just want to say how sorry we are. Ah let mah fear get the better of me, and because of that, Ah haven’t been fair to you.”

Msaidizi smiled at the pair. Perhaps he had been too hasty in his judgement. “Thank you” he said. “That means a lot to me.”

“We simply must make it up to you somehow, darling!” Rarity trilled.

“Oh, no. You don’t need to do tha—“

“But we must! Perhaps you could, I don’t know, pop down to my boutique some time? I’d be more than happy to make you a new outfit! Something a lot nicer than that... thing you’re wearing!”

Msaidizi’s smile fell. “Zecora taught me how to make these clothes” he said, his tone kept even but laced with steel. “I am quite fond of them.”

To her credit, Rarity immediately realised her mistake. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry!” she said, her face blushing as Applejack just looked on with amusement. “I didn’t mean it like that! But perhaps—“

“No thank you, Rarity” Msaidizi said, standing up. The empty circle around him widened slightly as ponies sidled away. “That won’t be necessary. Goodbye, it was nice talking to you.” Without waiting for a reply he walked away into the crowd, ponies parting in front of him like an equine sea.

“So much for that there silver tongue of yours, hey Rare?” Applejack quipped.

“Oh, shush.”

It didn’t take long for him to find Zecora. She was next to the welcome wagon, talking to a rather animated Twilight. As he got closer, Msaidizi heard the conversation over the rest of the crowd. “Where did you meet him?” Twilight asked. “I’ve never seen anything like him before, and I’ve read a lot of zoology books!”

Zecora chuckled. “Well, it is quite a tale to tell” she admitted. “You see—” she paused as a shadow fell across her and Twilight and looked up to her assistant with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, Msaidizi?”

“I’m tired, miss” Msaidizi said flatly, not even bothering to pretend a yawn. “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to just head home.”

Her gaze studied his face for a few moments, and then her face softened. “Of course. Be safe, now.”

With permission granted, Msaidizi walked away from the crowd and towards the edge of town alone. Twilight was extremely tempted to chase after him - she had so many questions! - , but despite popular opinion, she knew enough about social skills to see a pony - or non-pony, as the case may be - that needed their space.

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie appeared next to her, causing her to jump. “Hey, where’s he going?!” she protested. “He didn’t even get any cake!”





Zecora went back to Ponyville the next day and the day after that. What time she spent at home, she spent brewing, every available cauldron used to make some variety of potion. Also in those next few days, streams of ponies visited the tree-house. Some stayed only for a few moments, exchanging a greeting and a couple of surreptitious coins before slipping away with a bottle or two, while others brought along carts or tradesman’s tools.

By the third day the windows had actual glass in them, and Zecora’s list of furniture grew to include a table with matching chairs - each seemingly carved whole from a stump, rather than nailed together - and even a proper bed for Msaidizi. Granted, it was a bit too short for him, but the thought still counted.

After the fourth day, in the dead of night, an explosion sounded off from deep within the Everfree Forest. It was followed by the crack and whoosh of rushing air, and then it left behind a sudden silence that the night-creatures and insects did not seem to fill for quite some time.


> Chapter 9 - Curiosity, Ferns, and Answers Yearned
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a knock at the door: three taps, polite and methodical. With a small sigh Msaidizi marked his place in the book he was reading then got up to answer it. When he opened the  he saw that it was Twilight, wearing a pair of large, bulging saddlebags and a look of nervous optimism.

“Good morning, Helper! Are you busy at the moment?”

He didn’t answer immediately, choosing to mull it over. To be honest, he didn’t actually have anything planned for the day, but he wasn’t sure if he would like the sound of whatever it was Twilight wanted. Plus, he didn’t quite feel like talking to any ponies.

”On the other hand—err hoof... hand (oh dear, headache), she’s been nothing but friendly to me. And Zecora seems to like her.” Making the decision to at least hear her out, he asked bluntly, “Why? What is it?”

For a moment, Twilight’s smile flickered at his tone, but she was quick to recover. “Oh, well, there was this large explosion here in the Everfree forest last night, and I wanted investigate it. Normally I’d take Spike with me, but he had to stay behind and watch the library today. So, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come with me?” She gave a nervous chuckle and added, “You know, because you know so much about the area and everything...”

Flattery aside, Msaidizi was now certain he did not, in fact, like the sound of Twilight’s proposition. “I don’t know,” he said. “Let me just check.”

He turned his head to where Zecora was sitting, just out of sight of the front door, and asked her, “What do you think, miss?” He closed the door slightly so Twilight couldn’t see him silently mouth “please say no”.

Zecora raised an eyebrow, grinned a mischievous grin and—just loud enough for Twilight to hear—said, “The idea sounds fine, assistant of mine!”

Msaidizi popped his head back out the door to Twilight’s smiling face, gave her a faux smile, then looked again to Zecora and mouthed “I’m really not happy about this”.

Zecora continued grinning. ”I know.”

He sighed and stuck his head out the door once again. “Okay, then, one moment,” he uttered before closing the door.

“I can’t believe you!” he hissed at Zecora.

She chuckled, waving away his annoyance. “Oh, hush. A friend gained, will not cause you pain.” 

“But that’s not the poi—“

“Certainly then you will adore, an evening filled with many chores?”

“Well, not really, but—“

“No more ‘buts’, not one more retort. I think you’ll get along with Miss Sparkle’s sort.”

Before Msaidizi quite knew what was happening, Zecora was up on her hind legs, tying his cloak around his neck, and brushing imaginary lint off his shirt with a hoof. 

“To see you get along well, would truly make my heart swell,” she added with an affectionate nuzzle.

Msaidizi sighed. He could tell when he’d been defeated; although, he felt the extortionate tugging on his heartstrings had been a bit much. “Yes, miss,” he droned.

“Now, do you remember the rhyme—the one I taught to you last time? ‘Leaves of three, let it be—’”

“’—Leaves of four, eat some more’. Yes, I know.” He hesitated for a second but then wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Oh, and take some repellent, do not forget,” she added, dropping back to all fours and returning to her potions, “or mosquito bites you will regret.”

Msaidizi grabbed a bottle of yellow, oily fluid from a shelf and made sure it was secure in one of the pockets he’d sewn on the inside of his cloak. He then took a deep breath, opened the door and walked outside.

“Lead on,” he said to Twilight with a forced smile.





For five minutes or so they walked in an increasingly uncomfortable silence. Twilight had asked Msaidizi a few questions—how he was, how Zecora was doing, the standard affair—only to receive curt, single word answers. And sometimes not even that, but merely a noncommittal grunt.

Twilight didn’t like this. Not only because her friend was upset and standoffish about something (well, she’d liked to think he was a friend, an acquaintance at least) but also because she had so many questions to ask him. She considered herself rather well-read, but he was unlike any species she had ever heard of before. The party held a few days earlier had presented an opportunity, but Msaidizi had left in a huff before she’d gotten a chance; Zecora too had been evasive on the subject, stating that it was not her story to tell. 

She hadn’t lied about wanting his knowledge of the local area though, even if it wasn’t the main reason she’d asked him to accompany her. She really wanted to investigate the explosion that happened the previous night. She just couldn’t intend on taking Spike in the slightest; the Everfree Forest was far too dangerous for him. He was still a baby after all.

After a few more minutes of walking in silence, Twilight had had enough. “Okay, that’s it,” she said, stopping and turning to face her new companion. “What’s wrong?”

Msaidizi recoiled away from her, frowning slightly. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

Twilight shook her head. “Helper, I may not know much when it comes to friendship, but even I can tell when something’s bothering somepony.” She took a step towards him, looking concerned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

His frown turned into mild surprise. “I didn’t know we were friends,” he admitted.

“Do you not want to be?”

The question threw him a little, because if he be honest he wasn’t sure. A moment’s thought later he made a non-committed gesture and muttered “No, no, that’s fine. It’s just...”

He sighed. “I am conflicted, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight tilted her head slightly. “Oh? What about?”

He hesitated and clenched his fists, struggling to let the words out. “Because,” he finally said, “you hurt Zecora. You ponies, I mean. Maybe not you personally, and perhaps not in the physical sense, but you still did.”

Pausing to collect himself, he continued, “I owe a lot to her, Miss Sparkle. A lot. So I’m pretty upset about the way she was treated.”

Twilight’s ears flattened against her head in sympathy. “Yes, I can imagine that you would be. And for what’s it worth... I’m sorry for what you’ve both had to go through.” Her brow furrowed. “But I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is that... is that Zecora seems to have forgiven you all. She’s—“ He waved an arm in vague gesture while he searched for the right thing to say. “She seems to have moved on. But I can’t seem to.”

Realisation dawned on Twilight’s face. “You feel guilty for still being angry?” she asked.

Msaidizi nodded.

This led to another awkward silence, with Twilight mulling this new information over and Msaidizi looking everywhere except at her, feeling rather foolish. 

Finally, she said, “That’s... okay. That’s okay. It wouldn’t be fair to force you to feel something you don’t, and you’re allowed to be upset.” She gave him a warm smile and took a few steps closer. “But could you at least give us another chance? I know ponies can seem pretty crazy, but most are nice once you get to know them.”

Msaidizi looked at the sky and huffed, drumming his hands on the tops of his thighs as he fought with himself internally. He looked at the trees, then the ground, then finally at Twilight. He sighed and muttered, “Okay, then. I’ll try.”





With grievances now aired and settled, the walk became far more pleasant as they went. For a while they just drew in the sounds of the forest, occasionally pointing out something of interest to one another—a flower in bloom, a passing insect or bird, that sort of thing. Msaidizi had learned to pick up on the little snippets of forest news: mushrooms seemed to be only growing under logs pointing west to east that week, and the wasps and bees were currently at war, for the wasps desired the honey they could not make themselves.

They also met a manticore lounging on its back in the middle of the path, bathing in a patch of sunlight. Once it realised it had company and lurched to its feet, its posture upright and its gaze attentive.

Msaidizi tensed, ready to fight, and Twilight gave a low bow. The beast regarded them for a second or two, blinked slowly at them a few times, and then loped off into the bushes and out of sight.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Msaidizi asked Twilight, impressed. “How did you come to learn that manticores like respect? I didn’t think they would be that common in Ponyville”.

“They’re not, but my friend Fluttershy taught me,” she proudly replied. “It was quite a while ago. Right after I first came here from Canterlot, in fact.”

“What’s Canterlot?”

Twilight looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “Canterlot. You know, capital city of Equestria?”

Msaidizi shook his head slightly.

“Shining marble city of the mountainside?”

“Again, no.”

“Home of Princess Celestia? Ringing any bells?”

He gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, no.” He then frowned slightly, a thought occurring to him, and asked, “Who’s Princess Celestia?”

At this Twilight actually gasped. “How can you not know who Princess Celestia is!?” she exclaimed. “Everypony knows who Princess Celestia is! She’s ruled Equestria for over a thousand years! She raises the sun!”

Her manic expression froze, only to be replaced by a shrewd squint. “Helper... where exactly are you from?”

Msaidizi didn’t hear her, his mind working overtime. The “ruling for a thousand years” and “raising the sun” parts were obviously nonsense and could be safely ignored, but it was the “princess” bit that got his attention. He already knew of one princess from the visitations in his dreams, after all. Could she and this Celestia be one and the same?

Not to be ignored, Twilight poked him in the leg to get his attention. “Helper!”

“Sorry, I was just... thinking,” he said, ignoring her question (and the brief twinge of headache it brought). “Tell me though, this Princess Celestia... What does she look like?”

Twilight gave him another of look of utter disbelief and stated, “Well, she’s about as tall as you, maybe a little taller. She’s an alicorn—she has both wings and a horn. Her coat is a gorgeous white and her mane shimmers like the northern lights: pink and blue and—“

”That’s a no, then,” Msaidizi thought with some disappointment. To be honest he had initially hoped that the royalty lurking in his dreams was just some figment of his imagination, but the consistency of their meetings and the ease with which he remembered them led him to believe otherwise. It would be worrying indeed to discover that she didn’t actually exist.

“I don’t suppose there are any other princesses?” he tentatively asked.

Twilight tapped her chin a few times with her hoof. “Hmm... oh! There’s also Princess Cadence! She was my foalsitter, as it turns out. She’s tall but not quite as tall as Celestia. She’s only a little taller than me, I think. Her coat is sort of pale-pink, and her mane is purple with—“

The idea that this princess was just something he made up was seeming more and more likely to Msaidizi. He supposed that if it was true, he’d have to tell someone about it. But who? There apparently was a hospital in Ponyville, but he doubted they’d want to see him around there. And just how would Zecora react if he just went up to her and said, “Oh by the way, I think I’m crazy?”

He realised that Twilight was still talking. “—And of course, there’s Princess Luna. She only returned to Equestria a couple of months ago—“

The name struck a chord.

He interrupted Twilight, “Dark blue coat? Hair like the night sky? Has a picture of the moon on both flanks of her backside?

Twilight blinked. “Well, her coat isn’t all that dark, and her hair was actually just a light blue, but...“

She did a double take as she realised what Msaidizi had just said. “Hang on, how do you know that?! Princess Luna has only been back a few months, and she hasn’t left Canterlot Castle for almost all of that. How do you know who she is, but you’ve never heard of Princess Celestia?”

Msaidizi rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Um, I sort of, well, meet her now and again.” With a wince from the look Twilight was giving him, he closed his eyes and said, “She visits me in my dreams, okay.”

He was expecting a refusal from her. Perhaps a sound of incredulity with some laughter and maybe worry for his sanity on top. What he didn’t expect was for Twilight to say, “Oh! Well, that makes sense.”

Msaidizi opened his eyes again and stared at her in surprise. “Wait, it does?”

Twilight nodded. “One of Princess Luna’s responsibilities is safe-guarding dreams. It’s sort of her thing.” She chuckled and added, “Other than raising the moon, of course.”

“...Of course.”

“So, what’s she like?” Twilight asked. “I’ve only met her once so far, and it wasn’t for very long.”

“She’s...” Msaidizi looked for a word that was suitable. He felt that “vaguely terrifying” wasn’t going to be taken well.

“Different.” He hurriedly added, “But in a nice way!”

With that said, he made a gesture towards the path ahead. “Shouldn’t we be going? We’ve been standing here talking for quite a while.”

Twilight nodded in agreement, and continue they did. “You still haven’t told me where you’re from, you know,” she pointed out.

Msaidizi rolled his eyes, her question causing a twinge in his head. The headaches that happened whenever he tried to think from before he met Zecora had gradually been waning in strength for months, but if that was any indication, he still had a way to go. “Later, Twilight,” he said.

“But—“

To placate Twilight, he held up a hand and said, “Later. I promise. Just, not right now.”





“Oh my gosh...” Twilight muttered.

Given how she had described an explosion, Msaidizi had expected a crater of some kind. Perhaps one filled with the scorched remains of whatever foliage had been in the way. Something filled with some kind of destruction, certainly.

Instead it was a circular clearing, a couple dozen or so metres across, completely flat and utterly barren. Not barren as in inhabited by weeds, bracken, or garbage; but rather barren as in completely devoid of any form of life. There wasn’t a single weed or sapling or even a blade of grass within it.

Stranger still, the foliage surrounding it was thick and hearty both on the ground and from the trees, but it didn’t taper off at the clearing’s edge in the slightest. It just... ended. 

Twilight’s horn lit up with a lavender glow, and out of her saddlebags floated an array of scientific instruments, each more esoteric than the last.

“I’m going to take some readings” she said. “Why don’t you have a look around?”

Msaidizi gave a lazy salute and began to walk at the clearing’s edge, thinking all the while. Just what could have caused this? If it were something like a meteorite slamming into the earth or some other explosion, then there would have been a crater.

”Perhaps it didn’t hit the ground at all, but exploded midair?”

While that would explain the flatness of the clearing, it still didn’t make the answer any clearer to him. If there had been an explosion, wouldn’t it have scorched the earth and burnt the surroundings? Wouldn’t the trees and shrubs be flattened away from its source?

”So it wasn’t a great heat, then,” he concluded. ”What else could have killed all these plants off? Maybe... some kind of poison?”

The idea had some merit, but wouldn’t the clearing then be full of dead and rotting vegetation, rather than being wiped clean? He didn’t know of any poison that killed things and then made them disappear.

Unless it was very slow acting and thus undetectable, of course. The wild idea made Msaidizi uncomfortable given where he was standing, but he dismissed it.

Something glittering in the sunlight a little further along the edge caught his attention. He walked towards it and discovered another wooden wolf statue. This one was splayed out, like a real dog would if it were to fall over while running, and was beginning to fall apart. Cracks had formed all over the surface, and several pieces (including a forelimb) had broken off altogether. Curiously, the back legs seemed rather stunted compared to the other statue Msaidizi had seen.

There was also something sticking out of the top of its head. Squatting down for closer look, he saw what resembled a silver-caged thermometer.

”Someone else is here.” Msaidizi’s senses made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Slowly rising, he turned a full circle, his eyes darting to and fro.

Twilight noticed what he was doing and trotted over. “Helper? What are you doing?” 

Msaidizi hissed, doing another rotation as he strained his ears. “I think there might be someone here.”

Twilight noticed the wolf statue and took a startled leap back with a yelp. “Aah! Get away from that!”

“Calm down, it’s just a statue. What’s that thing poking out its head?”

Twilight gave the statue an apprehensive look, before moving closer and pulling the object out and towards her. “It’s a thaumometer,” she said. “It measures magic levels. But what’s it doing here? Where did it come from?”

Msaidizi didn’t answer but waved for her to be quiet again. For a minute they just stood there in silence, the clearing filled with no sound aside from the chirping of birds and the wind lightly blowing through the trees. Then, just a little further away from them, was the sound of cracking branches.  A thin branch and some sticks fell out of a tree and hit the ground with a clatter. Following them was something shiny that bounced off them with a ting.

Running over to the tree, Msaidizi bent down and picked it up. It was another thaumometer.

“Hello?” he called up into the tree, standing up. “Is there somebody up there?”

There was a long pause, and then a hesitant voice called down, feminine and cultured.

“...No...”

Msaidizi gave Twilight a questioning look, to which she returned a shrug. It sounded like a pony, a mare at that, but neither of them recognised it.

“Are you quite alright?” Msaidizi called out again. “It doesn’t seem very safe up there!” He paused for a moment and then added, “We mean you no harm, I assure you!”

There was another cracking of branches and a light shower of twigs. “No, no. I’m quite comfortable, thank you,” the voice called down. “Let me just...”

A third sound of cracking wood sounded out like a thunderclap, and the voice above screamed. with the rushing of yet more breaking branches and a showering of leaves. Whoever the voice belonged to began to fall out of the tree.

Msaidizi moved immediately, throwing his arms out and preparing to catch them. Whoever it was appeared from the canopy in a blur and landed square on his chest, knocking him onto his back and driving the air from his lungs.

“Phew, that was close!” the voice said.

If Msaidizi had the breath to join Twilight in gasping, he would have done so. The pony he had been talking to wasn’t a pony at all (or at least, none he’d ever seen before). Instead of fur she was covered in pockmarked black chitin. Instead of feathery pegasus wings, they were iridescent and insectoid, and easily seen poking out of her mouth were a small set of fangs. She also had a look of acute embarrassment at her landing. 

“Um... hello,” she said. “Sorry about that.”

> Chapter 10 - A Bark of Snark
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No, really, thank you” the creature continued, nattering on jovially from atop Msaidizi. “Can you imagine what would have happened if you hadn't caught me? A broken leg is bad at the best of times, but here it would have been catastrophic! I didn't even bring any books on first aid!”

Msaidizi didn't answer at first, too focused on getting air back into his lungs. “You’re welcome?” he eventually offered.

He looked to Twilight for help, and found none. She was too staring at their new acquaintance with her mouth agape, although her expression was more curious than fearful. Looking back at the creature sitting on him (and still going on about nothing in particular), he inquired “Sorry, but who are you?”

“And what are you!” Twilight blurted out, before recoiling slightly at her own tactlessness and adding “I mean, If that’s not rude to ask”.

At this the creature finally stopped talking and looked down at herself with surprise, as if she’d never considered the question before. She then looked back up to Twilight, and gave a nervous chuckle before jumping off of Msaidizi. “Why, whatever do you mean?” she asked, slowly backing away. “I'm just your regular, everyday pegasus!”

In an instant her horn lit up and a wave of dazzling green fire washed over her, fading just as swiftly to reveal (to everyone’s surprise) that absolutely nothing had changed.

“Um...” said Msaidizi, quite unsure as to what was happening.

“I'm sorry, did I say pegasus?” the creature said, looking even more nervous. “I of course meant a unicorn”.

Again green fire flashed, and again nothing changed.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked, thoroughly puzzled.

“Well surely I can do earth pony…” For a third time the creature failed at whatever it was she was attempting to do, and now thoroughly irritated she sat on her behind with a dull thump and pawed at her horn with a front hoof. “Oh, rotten thing! It’s on the fritz again!” she whined.

Msaidizi and Twilight shared a look, unsure how to proceed. Eventually he decided that it was safe to himself to his feet and brushed himself off. Despite her appearance, the creature did not seem that threatening. In fact she seemed rather silly. Twilight, meanwhile, decided on giving her a shrewd look. Msaidizi could practically see the gears turning in the unicorn’s head, drawing to some sort of conclusion.

“Are you… a changeling?” Twilight asked.

The creature stopped what it was doing and sighed. “I suppose the cat is out of the bag, isn't it? Yes, yes I am”. She took her focus away from her horn and gave Twilight a brittle smile. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

Twilight did not answer straight away, instead continuing to stare with a carefully blank look. She then said “Excuse us for one moment” and, grabbing Msaidizi’s arm with her magic, pulled him aside.

“I don’t want to alarm you” she whispered to him with some urgency. “But we need to leave”.

Msaidizi frowned in puzzlement and squatted down so that they were at eye level. “What do you mean?” he replied. “She’s a little different, but she seems…” He quickly glanced at the changeling, noting how her smile was now as brittle as thin ice, before turning back and concluding with “...nice. What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem!” she hissed. “Helper, have you never read ‘Mysterious Mythical Beasts, Volume Six’?!”

Msaidizi tutted and rolled his eyes, but smiled at her franticness. “As it turns out, no. Why?”

“Changelings are mythical creatures, they’re not supposed to exist! According to the book they disguise themselves as ponies, replace them, and then suck all the love from their friends and family! They’re mons-” Twilight cut herself off with a coughing fit, covering her mouth with her hoof, but the damage had been done. Msaidizi was no longer smiling.

“What was that?” he asked coldly.

“Helper, I'm really sorry” Twilight backpedaled, her ears flat against her head. “I didn't mean it like that, this is different-”

“Monster, is she? Well, you've put up very well with one monster so far, Miss Sparkle, so I think you should be able to handle one more just fine!”

With that he stood up and turned back to the changeling. “So sorry about my friend” he apologised, smiling and offering a hand. “It’s nice to meet you”.

The changeling’s own smile warmed as she took it. “It’s fine, darling. Likewise”.

The clearing fell back into silence for a moment, both parties (sans Twilight) happy with how things had turned out but uncertain on how to proceed. Eventually the changeling decided to take the initiative and cleared her throat.

“Spot of lunch?”





Lunch turned out to be tea, cream cakes and little triangle sandwiches, all served in white porcelain cups or on petite silver plates. The changeling had led them to the shadow of a tree not two minutes walk away from their meeting, where a small green tent had been set up. She had then dived inside it and pulled out an enormous wooden chest, from which said lunch was hastily procured.

“So, erm…?” Msaidizi prompted, his mouth full of sliced cucumber.

“Nidus” the changeling supplied.

“Miss Nidus,” he said, emptying his mouth before continuing. “What brings you to the Everfree Forest?”

She chuckled behind the rim of her teacup. “Vacation, although not one that I’d planned. I’d much rather be at home. But it was insisted upon that I take a little break”. She waved a hoof dismissively. “See the world, make some friends, that sort of nonsense”.

Twilight’s ears perked up at that last sentence. Ever since her telling off she’d been rather sullen, keeping her distrust of the changeling to herself but making sure to keep Msaidizi between her and it. But to hear it, or her, rather, talk of friendship gave her pause. “I've been there” she tentatively offered.

Nidus chuckled again. “Quite so. It seemed ridiculous at the time, but I must say that I've been having fun so far. Study the plants, look at the old castle… and then this whole strange explosion business happened!”

At the mention of the reason they were there, Msaidizi reached into his pocket and pulled out the thaumometer. “This is yours, then?” he asked.

The changeling’s horn lit up in sea green, and the tool floated out of his hand and into the tent. “Yes, thank you. Oh! Maybe we can compare notes! One moment”.

She carefully put her teacup down and trotted back over to her chest, throwing it open and rooting within it. Twilight took the opportunity to sidle a little closer to Msaidizi.

“I'm sorry” she mumbled. “I guess I can still be judgemental. That book I mentioned is the only one I know of that mentions changelings, so to take it as pure fact was, well, dumb”.

She offered him a shy smile, which he returned. “It’s fine” Msaidizi sighed. “I'm sorry for snapping at you, too”.

Pained grunts from the chest caused the pair of them to look back to Nidus, who was now so deep into the chest that her back hooves were waving around in the air. “Blast, I can’t quite seem to find it!” she said.

“Do you need any help?” Msaidizi offered.

“No, no, it’s fine darling. Let me just…” Objects began to levitate out of the chest, setting down in neat little piles beside it. At least half of them were just the basic odds and ends of domesticity, the things one needs while camping  (or think they’ll need but never does), with the other half being mountains of books.

Twilight trotted over to one of the piles of literature, and squealed in delight. “Oh my Celestia, look at all of these! You’ve got ‘Overly-Complicated Spells and You’; ‘Magical Mineralogy’; ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’; ‘Complete and Unabridged Classical Equestrian History’!”

“Just a little light reading” Nidus commented, now so deep in the chest that not even her legs could be seen.

Msaidizi rolled his eyes.

The floodgates now opened and curiosity overcoming trepidation, Twilight began firing off questions fast and thick. What kind of books did changelings like? Were there changeling authors, changeling libraries? These questions began to quickly move into morph general topics, such as dietary habits and societal structures. All of which Nidus answered in short (although not impolite) bursts, as she shifted through her seemingly limitless luggage.

It turned out that yes, changelings did indeed have libraries and authors. They ate normal things like normal ponies - Nidus herself was apparently very fond of agave cakes - had homes and jobs; and even a royalty-based government, although whether a princess held the highest spot was never said.

“Aah, here we are!” Suddenly the changeling’s head popped up into view, a tiny notebook clutched in her hoof. She opened her mouth to speak further, but it twisted into a grimace. “I say, can you smell that?”

Before a reply could be said a pack of four monsters slinked out of the shadows, smelling of death and growling like distant thunder. They were the wooden wolf statues Msaidizi had seen a week ago, except that statues were not supposed to move, or have eyes glowing with yellow hatred and breath stinking of rotten meat.

“Timberwolves!” Twilight exclaimed.

Msaidizi, for his part, was frozen to the spot in fear. “They’re real?!” he shrieked.

Still a-growling in one continuous note, the timberwolves closed in on the trio, forming a semicircle around them. Nidus’ horn flared into life as she took a defensive stance. One wolf took another step forward and was zapped on the nose, which made it step back again but not retreat.

“Any ideas?” she asked.

“I- I don’t know” Twilight admitted. “I'm pretty sure we could beat them right now, but what if more of them are out there? We need somewhere defensible”.

She groaned to herself, and then added. “I can’t believe I forgot to bring repellent! I'm usually so organised!”

“Repellent…”

Msaidizi’s hand clutched at the cloak pocket over his heart, where he could feel the little glass vial sitting within. He pulled it out and opened it - laughing with relief all the while - and began to dab it over himself.

Nidus looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “What is he doing?”

Msaidizi turned to offer it to Twilight, but stopped when he saw the looks he was getting. “What?”

“Helper,” Twilight began, sniffing the air to confirm her suspicions. “Why are you covering yourself in vegetable oil?”

“Maybe he’s hoping they’re on a diet?” Nidus suggested drily.

“What are you talking about? This is…” Msaidizi trailed off before dipping a finger in the mixture and smelling it. Noticing the absence of any kind of medicinal stench, he then gingerly tasted it.

“This is vegetable oil” he confirmed. “Twilight, why is this vegetable oil?!”





Back at the house, Zecora was having a wonderful time. She’d used the alone time to catch up on some reading, and had just started to bake some bread for later. As the warm smell of it began to fill the tree, she decided to make herself a salad for lunch. With oily dressing, of course.

She took one bite, and then spat it back out with disgust, her eyes streaming.

“Nini!?” she cried. “Kwamba ni machukizo!”





They had been running for a good ten minutes now, and Msaidizi was beginning to really feel it. Both of his companions were alongside him, keeping the pace. Twilight could be rather fast when she wanted to be, due to the extra legs, and Nidus (still with notebook in hoof) contented herself with flying alongside them, her wings buzzing like an oversized wasp.

He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest and that his legs were on fire, but he daren’t turn around, for the monsters were right behind them. Every time he slowed down even an inch the howling and baying sent a fresh jolt of terror down his spine and gave him the strength to go on.

Nidus stopped for a second and turned around, firing a bolt from her horn. From a point distressing close behind him there was a pained yelp.

“Just a little further!” Twilight shouted above it all.

They turned a corner in the path, and ahead of them was the ruins of the old castle.

Even through his fear Msaidizi couldn't help but note that it was much more expansive than it seemed from a distance. More importantly, it offered sanctuary from the timberwolves, a safe place to catch their breath and plan their next move.

But first they would have to cross a wide gorge, over a rickety rope bridge. Twilight barely seemed to notice it, hitting it at a run and crossing it without causing much disturbance, while Nidus stuck to the air. Msaidizi managed the first few steps fine, but the slamming of his sandals caused it to sway and wobble dangerously, so he found himself having to grasp onto the ropes and waiting for it to calm down.

Fortunately, a quick glance back revealed that their pursuers seemed loath to cross it. Perhaps timberwolves were inherently wary at idea of walking over wooden constructions, or maybe they’d just seen Msaidizi nearly shake himself off it by accident, and decided it would be foolish to follow. He didn't stop to think about it.

Past the bridge and through the shattered gates was a crumbling courtyard, its centre dominated by a dry fountain overflowing with weeds. 

“In here!” Twilight called out, from a side door.

Msaidizi stumbled inside, his legs now feeling like jelly. The room seemed to be an old kitchen, with mouldering wooden surfaces. The way further into the castle was choked with rubble and inaccessible. He collapsed against a wall, trying to catch his breath, and the door was slammed shut behind him.

“Where’s Nidus?” he panted.

“She went to scout ahead” Twilight replied. She locked the door with a quick spell and rattled the knob to check her work. “We should be safe in here for now. They’ll give up after a while.”

“Oh, why did you have to go and say that?”

They spent a few minutes catching their breath, until eventually Nidus flew in through a high, broken window. “I have good news and bad news” she declared with pride. “The good news is that we won’t have to hide in here for too long.”

In response to this Twilight smiled, but Msaidizi covered his face in despair. “And the bad news?” he asked from between his fingers.

Before Nidus even opened her mouth the wolves began to bay again, much closer this time, and there was a great clattering and thumping as they tried to force their way inside.

“The bad news” Nidus explained sheepishly, “Is that the reason we won’t have to hide for long is because they’ve found a way across”. 

“Oh, we’re dead. We’re incredibly dead” Msaidizi cried, moving his hands to over his head. He felt more scared than he ever had before. “Why did you bring me here, Twilight? I wanted to stay at home!”

Twilight frowned at the accusation, but her expression softened as she placed a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay Helper, I've done my reading. Timberwolves are scary, but they’re not so tough”. 

“Quite! No need to worry” Nidus agreed, feeling along the wall with a hoof. “Besides this old place is riddled with traps.”

“How is that better?!” Msaidizi exlaimed. 

“Because… aha!” with a press of her hoof a brick in the wall slid inwards with a click, and an alcove rotated to show an equine suit of armour, the once-silvery metal dull and tarnished with age. Nidus stuffed her notebook into its helmet, and with a grunt she lifted the large halberd it was holding and buzzed over to Msaidizi, pressing the weapon into his hands.

“Here you go”.

“What, me?” Msaidizi protested. In his hands the halberd looked more like a wood axe. “I don’t know how to fight!”

“Good, no preconceptions” Nidus assured.

The pounding and scratching at the doors grew more frantic, splinters beginning to break off of it. In response Msaidizi stood up and backed away from it.

“I mean, I’ve been attacked before, but-”

“Wonderful, darling! Just reverse your thinking. This time it’s you trying to hurt them”.

Msaidizi looked to Twilight helplessly. She shrugged “They’re just plants, if it helps. They don’t actually feel pain”. She then put herself into a defensive pose and ignited her horn. “Don’t worry, if we stick together and keep calm, we’ll get through this!”

With a shower of dust and wood chips the doors slammed open, and the wolves were upon them. It was then promptly discovered that, against a foe that wasn't running for its life, wooden wolves weren't really that much of a threat. One of them threw itself at Msaidizi, who promptly shrieked like a little girl and, flinching, pointed the tip of the halberd at it. It gave a pained yelped as it knocked both of them over while impaling itself through the heart.

“I think their bark is worse than their bite” Nidus quipped, blasting her own opponent apart with a sea-green magical bolt to its core.

“No more puns!” Twilight protested. She and the timberwolf after her circled each other until she was the one standing in the doorway. It prepared to lunge, only to shatter as one half of the broken doors slammed into it like a freight train.

That was when the fourth one attacked. Bursting through the door behind Twilight, it barrelled her over with a swipe of its claws before lunging in for the fatal bite. Screaming in equal parts pain and fear, Twilight could barely hold its head away with her hoofs, its jaws slowly and steadily closing in regardless of her efforts.

Nidus prepared another bolt, but it fizzled out on her horn as the wooden corpse behind her was forcibly thrown to the side. Msaidizi stood up, his hair frazzled like a lions mane and his eyes wide. He was still absolutely terrified, but the danger to Twilight, to his friend, took that fear, pushed it all the way around and then briefly forged it into something useful: white hot rage.

“GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU BIRCH!”

With that furious roar he charged, the miniature halberd held above his head. In response the timberwolf snarled, bounded off of Twilight and lunged to meet him. For Msaidizi time seemed to stand still for a moment, and he could count every wooden line on his opponents face, its jaws dripping with sap.

Then the moment passed, and physics took over. Bark cracked as the halberd embedded itself into the timberwolf’s face; so much force was behind the blow that it was slammed into the ground in the process, breaking a hind leg.

Msaidizi didn't wait for it to retaliate. He wrenched the blade out and hit it again and again, screaming all the while. Its whines turned into full blown crying before its head split in two, and fell still.

“Helper!” Twilight screamed.

Msaidizi stopped and turned, and when he saw the brief look of fear cross her face, fear of him his heart turned to ice. The adrenalin was spent and his body demanded payment, with interest. Knees shaking, head spinning and his brain coming to terms with just how stupidly dangerous he’d acted, Msaidizi dropped the halberd with a clang.

“I'm sorry” he muttered. Then he fell to his knees and was promptly sick.





“Well it’s not unicorn, the thaumic frequency is way off.”

“Quite so darling, and it’s not gryphon either- they use a runic system, which would leave remains behind.”

It was now late afternoon. The group had decided to wait in the castle for a few hours after the demise of the timberwolves, to catch their breath and make sure that they were gone for good. Nidus spent this time on continued lookout, buzzing from turret to turret, only stopping to shout down some esoteric snippet about the architecture. Msaidizi spent it apologising profusely to Twilight for his actions, to which she’d responded by refusing to listen to.

“Helper, you saved me,” she’d said. “Anypony else would have done the same. It’s fine”.

Eventually Nidus had come done to confirm that the coast was clear, grabbed her notebook from its hiding place, and they all began to walk back. It didn't take long for Nidus and Twilight to start bumping heads and comparing notes.

“I don’t suppose... it’s changeling magic?” Twilight asked.

Msaidizi hadn't joined in the conversation, but he was definitely thinking about it. Thoughts he’d had back in the clearing were coming back together and morphing into a vague conclusion.

“I'm afraid not, I’d know if it was. I'm starting to suspect that it might be-”

“Zebra?” Msaidizi interrupted.

The pair turned to him. “What do you know about zebra magic?” Twilight asked.

Msaidizi shrugged. “A few basics, I suppose. It’s all about balance - if you want to make something hot you need to make something else cold, that sort of thing”.

“Can you do it?” Nidus asked.

“I'm afraid not. Zecora tried to teach me some once, but… hang on, what are you suggesting?” 

“Well, I was just-” Nidus began, before Msaidizi cut her off.

“It’s not Zecora, if that’s what you’re suggesting” he said, crossing his arms. “I don’t think she would do something like this”.

“Girls, let’s not argue” Twilight interjected, stifling a yawn. “It’s been an exhausting day. I don’t think Zecora had anything to do with this either, but I am going to talk to her about it sometime. Sound fair?”

“I suppose” Msaidizi replied.

“Yes, yes, fine” Nidus said with a faint huff. She then cleared her throat and added “Although while we’re on the subject, I don’t suppose you can… not tell anypony about me?”

Twilight was taken aback at this. “Not even to the princess? But you’re a real-life mythical being! Dozens of new books could be written! You’d be a celebrity overnight!”. Her ears drooped a little. “And I thought maybe you’d want to meet my other friends?”

“I’d prefer not to, if it’s all the same”. Nidus said, sounding noticeably uncomfortable with the idea. “I prefer to keep to myself”. Catching Twilight’s look, she grimaced again and continued “I don’t know, maybe I could go and visit you instead, sometime? Would that work? Perhaps when…” 

A look of intense concentration crossed Nidus’s face, before a wave of green fire washed over her from her horn, leaving in its place a rather generic-looking mare, with brown fur and beige mane.

“It worked!” the pony cried, in Nidus’s voice. With another, much-more strained look she changed back and with a laugh of delight flew away, yelling “Toodles!” behind her. 

“You know Helper, you were right” Twilight said to Msaidizi, after the laughter had faded into the air. “She seems… nice”.

“Msaidizi” he corrected.

Twilight cocked an ear and tilted her head. “I'm sorry?”

“It’s my name” Msaidizi explained. The soreness of his muscles was beginning to fade, leaving him in a docile, sleepy haze. “It means helper in Zebrican, or assistant perhaps, but Helper isn't my name”.

“Oh”. Twilight blinked, then looked sheepish as she realised what he was saying. “Oh! Hel- Msaidizi, I'm sorry. I didn't realise”.

Msaidizi just shrugged in response, and the two of them continued on their way home. Being that time where it was not quite evening but not quite night, the forest was exceedingly peaceful. Orange light played between the shadows of the trees, and a cool breeze brought with it the buzz of evening insects and the songs of birds coming home to roost. It wasn't very long at all before the pair had reached the beginning of the path that lead to Zecora’s house and said their goodbyes.

“Thanks for helping me today” Twilight called, continuing down the road to Ponyville. “I'm sorry it was so much trouble”.

“Yes, well” Msaidizi replied jokingly, hands cupped around his mouth. “I’ll be sure not to agree next time. Good day, Miss Sparkle!”

He waited until Twilight had disappeared out of sight before turning down the path for home. When he was half way across the clearing the door to the tree-home slammed open to reveal Zecora, looking angry, sad and relieved all at the same time.

“Ambapo umekuwa?” she growled.

“Now, miss, I know what you’re thinking-” Msaidizi began, and then stopped as Zecora stood up on her hind legs and crushed him in a hug.

“Mimi nilikuwa na wasiwasi!”

It took a moment for the translation to take, but when it did Msaidizi wanted to say something reassuring. How he’d been fine; how she must have known that by the fact that she hadn't gone to find him; and how it had actually all been rather boring, really. The last part may not have been true in the slightest, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

He didn't get the chance, though, as at that point Zecora grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back inside.

“No more going out tonight, this day has been enough of a fright”.





Back at the old castle afternoon had begun to fade into evening, the shadows lengthening and the cricket chirping. This otherwise calm atmosphere was suddenly broken with a buzz as Nidus landed in the courtyard, glancing around for intruders before darting down a side passage.

The corridors were growing dark as the sun set, but that proved no trouble for her as she lit the way with her horn. Deeper and deeper into the castle she went, stopping occasionally to listen at the air. An observant watcher might notice how she occasionally stepped over a particular flagstone, or made sure to lean on a particular brick of the wall before proceeding.

Eventually she stopped, next to one of the many suits of armour dotting the halls. Looking around one last time, she reached forward and pulled the suits left forehoof. With the clatter of moving stone the wall span around, and Nidus found herself in a secret room filled to the brim with changelings of all kinds. Some were wearing silken servant clothes and trying (apparently in vain) to tidy up. A few had the silver medallions and flat-top caps that denoted them as official court mages, and were muttering amongst themselves in the corners or poring over tomes. The rest were guards in blue-black chitin-alloy armour, and they looked either bored or fed up with everyone else. All of them stopped and stood to attention when Nidus entered the room.

“Show’s over” Nidus declared with authority. “You may return to your duties now”.

With a chorus of “Yes, duchess!” the changelings filed out, leaving only the captain of the guards, a noticeably larger-than-average nymph with silver inlay on her armour’s edges. She trotted up to Nidus with a look of distaste.

“I am uncomfortable with this plan” she stated. Her tone all had the respect and professionalism that came with her station, but also had undertones of weary familiarity.

In response Nidus waved a hoof dismissively. “It’s fine, Petra! Everything worked perfectly”.

“I should have been there. You could have been hurt, and I was charged with keeping you safe”.

“But I wasn't hurt, darling - which was the point! Nothing like a bit of shared peril to inspire camaraderie. Besides”, she scoffed, “I don’t remember her wording it as ‘keeping me safe’”.

Suppressing a yawn, Nidus trotted over to one of the book piles and began telekinetically sorting through them. “How goes the work?” she asked, opening one at random and skimming through it.

Petra shrugged before answering. “On schedule. All should be prepared in time, barring no setbacks”. 

“And tell me, what would count as a setback?”

“The usual. Our discovery. Work falling behind.” Petra elaborated, and then added “You being eaten by timberwolves” as a deliberate afterthought.

Nidus sighed with impatience and slammed the book. “Ugh, fine! I promise promise promise that I won’t put myself in such danger again! There! I've said it thrice so you know it’s true. Are you happy now?”

“Very” replied Petra, who didn't look very happy at all.

“You’re dismissed. Tell one of the servants to run me a bath on your way out - I think I deserve an early night”.

With a bow Petra walked out, leaving Nidus alone with her thoughts. Beyond the immediate fatigue, she was extremely pleased with how things were going. Her plans had been rather forlorn in the past months, growing more and more desperate, but this one was correct. It would work! And they were the key! “Such power, such potential!” she thought.

“Hmm, perhaps I should write home about this? I did say I’d keep her updated…”

Nidus yawned again, longer and wearier this time. Perhaps today had tired her out harder than she’d thought. She just wasn’t used to such activity, wolves or no. “Or maybe not. Tomorrow, perhaps”.

With bleary eyes Nidus picked up a few choice books (for bedtime reading) and began to leave. As she passed the mirror on the wall, though, she stopped. With a thoughtful look and a flash of magic she effortlessly transformed into a copy of Twilight Sparkle.

The Not-Twilight examined itself for a moment, before it said “No, probably shouldn't” and changed back into Nidus. “Someone will probably notice”. She then continued her exit, muttering to herself “A bit too tubby for me, anyway…”