“The world is a history book; we can write whatever we want inside it, and it’s my job to make sure the pages keep turning.”

Night Rush was not one for staying in one spot when he was nervous or anxious. In fact, as soon as Fate had disappeared, Night Rush had picked up his hat, took out the tarnished ring that he had stuck underneath his wing for safekeeping and set it on the ground, and flew up above the treetops, looking for some sign of civilization.

It wasn’t very fruitful.

Nothing but trees and rolling fields of grass covered the ground; there were no houses, huts, or even paved or dirt roads or paths. A glance up to Canterlot Mountain told him that Canterlot didn’t even exist yet. Muttering to himself, he flew higher and squinted at the horizon; none of the telltale bumps and ridges of the buildings of Manehattan and Phillydelphia to the north nor the sprawling brown clusters of log houses of Appleoosa in the sandy plains to the west. It was a very subtle change, but one that unnerved him; he didn’t realize how much he used the cities in the distance as a compass until he couldn’t see them.

Night Rush glided back down to the clearing in a large circle, a hoof to his chin in thought. I'm six thousand years in the past, there’s no civilization anywhere around, and it looks like the Everfree Forest expands to most of this region of Equestria.

Which means that there are monsters ten times my size that want to eat me.

Which means that I need shelter.

And fire.

Or perhaps I could pick a direction and fly until I find something.

Or perhaps I could fly until I realize what an awful idea picking a direction and flying in it was.

He landed heavily on the ground, sighing. Or I could sit here and think in circles. He reached down and grabbed the tarnished golden ring, tucking it back underneath his wing. I need a better way of carrying this… He thought absentmindedly.

“You, pony, seem to be a little lost today. May I offer a hoof to help you find your way?” Came an exotic, rhythmic voice.

Night Rush started and whirled around. Before him stood a rather odd sight, one that was rarely seen in Ponyville: she was only slightly shorter than the average pony, with stripes decorating her entire hide and multiple golden rings molded around her neck and on her upper front left leg. Large golden rings dangled from both of her ears, and her cutie mark consisted of a large tribal sun with a spiral inside.

“Zecora? How’d you get here?”

“For many a year, this forest has been my home. I came here long ago to make a life of my own,” she replied, turning away. “Now, do you accept my offer of hospitality? Or will you stay here and risk your own fatality?”

Night Rush rubbed a forehoof across his chin. “Sure, I’d rather avoid getting eaten today.”

“Then follow me to my home,” she said, turning and walking away. “Please follow me, and do not roam.”

“What other choice do I have?” Night Rush asked, to nopony in particular.

“No wonder I didn’t see this place when I looked around—it’s a tree. Is that thing even alive?” Night Rush wondered, gaping at Zecora’s house.

Zecora’s house was interesting, to say the least. Like the Ponyville library, it was made out of a giant, living tree—something that Night Rush could never quite wrap his head around—but it had more of a mysterious aura. Nothing about it was malevolent, like he had subconsciously expected; after all the hype about Zecora being an evil enchantress and everything, he would have thought that most everything about her would be creepy.

However, even the inside of Zecora’s house, with the tribal masks and large cauldron in the center of the main room, Night Rush felt relaxed and at home. “So, how did you get here? Fate brought me here, but did he bring you here too?” He asked, taking his hat off and putting it on a hook near the door.

Zecora raised an eyebrow. “Fate brings many ponies to many find many faces; some to see sights, some to experience places. Perhaps if you told me your complete story, the rest of the tale will open like a morning glory?”

“Well, I was going about my business—getting ready for school, grabbing a bite to eat, that sort of thing— when out of nowhere, this grey pony without skin on his face appeared. I ran into him, and he told me to follow him into the Everfree Forest. He was really intimidating, so I followed him into… uh… yeah, the forest.” Night Rush paused for a moment, realizing exactly how bad of an idea following an unknown, creepy pony into an equally creepy forest was. “And then he sent me back in time about six thousand years, then I flew up to look around, and then you found me, and now here we are.” He fished the tarnished ring out from underneath his ring and showed it to Zecora. “This is my ring. Except, it’s got at least a few hundred years of tarnish on it, and my ring hasn’t even existed that long. Not to mention, I'm still wearing my ring.” He turned to show Zecora the ring on his back leg.

Zecora inspected the two rings, a hoof to her chin in thought. “That is a most interesting tale, without a doubt.” She frowned. “Did you glean the name of this pony, or was it something that you did not find out?”

“His name was Fate, but he said that most ponies just called him Death.”

Zecora’s eyebrows shot up. “You have met with Death, and yet you live on… In this game, pony, you are surely much more than just a pawn.”

“Great to know,” sighed Night Rush. “Now please, answer me this, and cut that rhyming crap out—it’s getting annoying. You live in this exact tree six thousand years from now. You look almost exactly the same, except you might be a few years younger now. Are you immortal or something?”

Zecora burst into laughter, throwing her head back. “I believe you have me mistaken for somepony else,” she said once she recovered enough to speak. “Surely, there is—“

“No, it’s you,” said Night Rush, cutting her off. “And yes, I'm sure.”

The zebra shrugged. “Fate has many odd ways about him. Although, a few of his plans sink instead of swim…” She trailed off, lost in thought.

“You sound like you know personally.”

“There is nothing alive who does not know the touch of Fate. Without it, nothing would ever change its state,” Zecora said softly, her ears lowering slightly from their usual rapt attention.

Night Rush said nothing for a while, looking around at the various decorations in the mysterious zebra’s house.

“So, pony, what will you do now? Surely you will do something; nothing is a thing which I do not allow,” Zecora said, her ears straightening again to their normal upright positions.

“I…” He thought for a moment. “I have no idea. Do you know where I could find Celestia and Luna? They might be able to help me find my way…”

“Celestia and Luna, our young princesses two? They have not been seen in years quite a few.”

“What?! Does anypony know where they went?” Night Rush asked, aghast. It wasn’t like Celestia to abandon her subjects like that. Nopony really knew Luna well at all, but he assumed that she wouldn’t up and abandon the ponies of Equestria either.

“Nopony knows for sure,” Zecora replied, walking away to fiddle with a few bottles hanging from strings from the ceiling. “They were last seen battling an evil most impure.”

“Where do you think they are?”

“I believe that they are in the plains to the west,” Zecora walked back to Night Rush, carrying two bottles, and handed him one of the bottles of… something. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it wasn’t a liquid. “You might need this, if you are to go on this quest.”

“What quest?” Night Rush cocked his head.

Zecora raised an eyebrow.

“Oh. To find the princesses. Right.” He smiled sheepishly, and then shook the bottle of whatever-it-was. “What’s in here?”

“That, pony, is a special medicine to counteract hunger. Add some water, give it a shake, swallow it quickly, and hunger no longer.”

“Wow, really?” Night Rush grinned and held the bottle up to the light, trying to see inside it. “How does it work?”

“That is of no consequence,” Zecora said, waving him off with a hoof. “However, there is this, which is of much more importance.” She handed him the second bottle.

Night Rush nearly dropped the bottle when the zebra handed it to him; it was impossibly more heavy than it looked. It had to weigh nearly forty pounds! “What’s in here?”

“In that bottle is my most rare brew; it gives one enough strength to turn a stone into a molten stew.”

“So, it lets me breathe fireballs or something?” Night Rush couldn’t help but grin at the possibilities.

“The effects will differ between your opponents,” the zebra said, nervously pawing at the floor. “Though no matter the form, it tears down your foe, component by component.”

“It disintegrates them?” Night Rush’s smile faded.

Zecora nodded. “But be warned, pony; this potion has wicked side effects. You must only use it when there is another pony to protect.”

“What are the side effects?”

“You die,” Zecora said simply and bluntly.

Night Rush’s ears flattened back against his skull. “So I get tons of magical power, and then I die.” A useful last resort, I suppose. But why would she give it to me?

Zecora nodded. “But, enough of this depressing talk. Come, upstairs we must walk.” She turned and walked out of the room.

“Why, what’s upstairs…?” Night Rush trailed off, following the zebra out of the room and up a staircase that was molded into the wood of the tree itself. “Oh. That’s upstairs.”

An entire bedroom was carved into an enormously thick tree branch. While it was fairly spacious for being what it was, Night Rush guessed it to be about five by five paces across, and he had to duck his head just to stand in the room. A small, circular window let the early evening light shine onto the foot of the bed. Zecora lay on the straw bed, smiling at him. “You may rest here for the night. Then, I suggest you depart at first light.” She tossed her head, her Mohawk-styled mane flopping around.

“I see.” Night Rush looked around nervously. “So… that’s all I'm going to be doing here? Sleeping, and then leaving?”

“Well, that is not the only thing that you will be doing.” The smile spread further across her face, making Night Rush’s ear twitch nervously.

“Uh, Z-Zecora, you’re really nice and all, but, uh—“ Night Rush stammered.

“There is a brew downstairs that is stewing, and—“

“I mean, I’ve n-never even b-been with a m-mare before—“

“Of course, pony, you do not need to feel forced into it—“

“Just, y’know, n-nopony’s ever really t-taken a l-liking to me—“

“I will need you to venture into the forest to find an ingredient or two—“

“Of course, my barn door doesn’t swing the other way or anything like that, it’s just—“

They both stopped talking at the same time. “What are you talking about?!” They said in unison.

“I was asking for your help with a special brew of mine. Though, I believe you were thinking along a different line…” Zecora trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Night Rush.

Night Rush gulped. “I, uh… y’see… uh…”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just because I am on a bed, does not mean you should not think with your head.”

Night Rush flinched. “S-sorry…”
She rolled her eyes and got up off of the bed, swishing her tail as she walked by him. “Colts,” she muttered just loudly enough for him to hear.
… …

Morning came much too early for Night Rush.

Celestia’s sun shone brilliantly through the tiny window (Is it even Celestia’s sun yet? He thought to himself) and, despite Night Rush’s attempt to shut the outside world out with h is pillow over his head, he was already mostly awake. Grumbling, he sat up in his bed, only to smack his forehead on the roof of the room.

Rubbing his forehead absentmindedly, he sighed as he remembered where he was. So. It wasn’t a dream. This is real… I'm six thousand years out of place, in the middle of the Everfree Forest, staying at the former Evil Enchantress’s house, and about to go on some crazy-flank quest to find Celestia and Luna because they’re hiding for some reason. He flicked his throbbing ear. Aaaand, I slept with my earrings in. Celestia damn it.

He picked up the tarnished golden ring from where he had stowed it underneath the bed and tucked it underneath his wing. He wasn’t sure why, but it just felt right to be in contact with the ring as much as possible. The other ring—the one that was still on his leg—tingled occasionally, as if it had a tiny static charge running through it.

Remembering to duck his head, he walked out of the small bedroom and down the stairs. He found Zecora murmuring something over the large cauldron in the middle of the main room, pouring a powder into the bubbling concoction as she did so. “’Mornin’,” he greeted sleepily.

Zecora greeted him with a small smile. “It is a little later than first light, but better late than never to begin your flight.”

Night Rush nodded, yawning. “Is there anything that I can do to repay you? I slept in your bed, ate your food, and you’ve given me two bottles and some saddlebags full of what I'm assuming to be fairly valuable stuff.” He slung his borrowed saddlebags over his shoulders, pleased that they fit; they didn’t hinder his wings, and he could tell that they wouldn’t chafe. Zecora had given them to him the night before, insisting that he had more use for them than she did.

Zecora simply shook her head and held up a hoof. “Your help with my brew last night was more than enough,” she said. “To demand payment would be a guff.”

Night Rush smiled gratefully and, rearing back on his hind legs, embraced the zebra in a full-on hug.

“No payment is required from you, Night Rush,” she said again, using his name for the first time. “Now, please—you are making me blush!”

Night Rush disengaged the hug, plopping back down onto all four of his four hooves. Neither of them said anything for a few moments. “How do you know, Zecora?” Night Rush asked suddenly.

“Know what, my pony friend?” She shook her head. “Your questions sometimes confuse me to no end.”

“You know what’s going to happen. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have given me the hunger stuff and the superpower potion right off the bat like that,” he said accusingly.

Zecora’s ears folded backwards. “Stupid pony, you have met Fate and came away without harm! Most ponies, by now, would be at least missing an arm,” she growled.

“So, because of that, you think I'm special?”

“Not yet, no,” the now-irked zebra admitted. “However, you will go farther and reach more ponies that you may ever know.”

Silence rang through the air for a moment or two. “You sound like you know what Fate can do from experience,” he said, more as a comment than a question.

Zecora was silent for a moment. “Fate is a cold, unforgiving pony. He can control us as easily as unicorns can control the world around them, except he has no physical limitations,” she whispered. Night Rush raised an eyebrow at her; without the rhymes, her speech sounded somewhat odd and out of place. “You are indeed a lucky pony to have been in his presence and come out of it unscathed.” She shivered slightly, staring off into the distance.

Night Rush thought back to when he had first spoken to Zecora: I came here long ago to make a life of my own, she had said. “What happened? Did something happen to your family?”

Zecora looked at him, and for a split second, Night Rush saw a deep chasm of sorrow in the zebra’s eyes. She blinked a few times, then turned and picked up Night Rush’s hat from the hook on the door. “I happened,” she said bluntly, handing him his hat. “Now get out of my home.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 4 Estimated time remaining: 37 Minutes