It was with the last breathe of the day that caused the hanging incense bottles to clink and sway from the branches of the shaman hut. There was no way about it, even in the dying light, beneath freshly birthed stars, Miss Zecora’s home was easily identifiable in the forest.

It was a broad piece of eco-architecture but twisting and slanting, a zebrican cousin to the oak that made Princess Twilight’s library; ocular windows were of different sizes, an earthly yellow glow from within illuminating several masks he recognised as cordial signs: “The spirits smile upon you.” and “Go in good health, friend.” being the more complex designs of welcoming and farewell. It was certainly a homely affair beneath the shaggy canopy, and as Little Miss Apple Bloom knocked on the door, he caught many clashing aromas of warding potions designed to keep beasts away.

‘Perhaps I can acquire knowledge on what predominantly prowls these woods beside timber wolves so that I plan accordingly for my own excursions here.’ It was an appeasing thought but it was shattered with a wince and a hiss when he lowered Miss Belle from his back.

“Oh no, you’re hurt!” With a worried look she rested a hand on his left arm, retracting when he staggered back and stared at her with a craning head. Her ears flattened as she averted her gaze. Was he angry? “This is all my fault.”

“I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep,” he replied with a weak warmth, the kind akin to the dying embers of a fire. He waved her off with his right hand, before nodding and thumbing towards the hut, voice growing louder and more cheerful, “Besides we’ve finally arrived.”

He certainly didn’t feel merry but after projecting a kind voice it at least brought a small smile to her maw. Sweetie’s ears were still flat and her eyes fell onto her hooves and lingered there, weighed down by a thought before she tried once again to look at him, and failed. ‘At least she feels guilty. It’ll pass, quicker with my help I suppose.’ He patted her on her fluffy, curly mane, pricking up her ears in surprise.

“Be certain you know the way of anywhere you wish to go in future, Miss Belle, okay? I can’t be everywhere at once if you find yourself in trouble.” His words were kind, friendly and earnest; he tilted his head as she beamed up to him.

“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cup-hic-cake in my eye!” she said, with strange accompanying gestures.

“… I take it that means you will?”

“Yep. It’s a pinkie promise, you never break a pinkie promise.” Her expression turned dark, daunting even. “Ever.” There was certainly something unsettling about that last part.

“Guys! Y’all coming in or what?!” Apple Bloom cried from the open door.

He trudged along with the white unicorn in tow. Ser Vincent ducked down through the door and scanned the surprisingly spacious room. The large cauldron was the main feature amidst other items of interest, primarily because it bubbled with herbs and vegetables, steam rising into the chimney made from the hollowed out trunk. More masks adorned the walls, as did wax-dripped candles and irregular jars and hanging corked beakers. Those were something that caught his eye, and reminded him how a shaman always knew which beaker had what potion—Ser Vincent hated that traditionalists never labelled their ingredients like he did. Always thought it was bothersome. Also the lack of a hoof-mat made him feel uncomfortable having to drag dirt into the home.

“Zecora, I’ve brought some friends!” Apple Bloom yelled towards a back room. She left the basket on a table, something that seemed out of place in the au natural theme in the abode.

“Then fetch some bowls on my behest, coincidence tell us to feed our guests.” Her voice seemed otherworldly with playful wisdom, aged perhaps a couple years more than his.

She stepped out and as he had been previously informed, she was a zebra: striped grey and charcoal, mohawked, and adorned with traditional gold rings on her wrists and at the base of her ears. Rings of adulthood, but commonly copper coloured unless a mare just wanted to feel pretty. It was the four rings around her neck, however, that told him she was she recognised as great herbalist. Zecora was fairly built, exotically feminine, endowed in the chest but he noticed that her muzzle was squared, often a masculine trait. It hardly detracted from her allure.

With teal eyes she blinked and stared, gaze locked on the knight. “One friend is Sweetie Belle, it’s definitely her. Dearest Apple Bloom, who is this stranger?”

‘Rhyming speech? Charming in conversation, annoying in learning alchemy.’ His tutor felt the same way when studying under a shaman himself, but since he wished his students to be the best, and had an ego himself, he thought he teach through riddles and rhymes from time to time. Normally as final credit in order to finish an assignment.

“Ser Vincent, of the Solaris Knights, I’m new to the area and Miss Belle thought you could help me settle in.” He offered a bow of the head, stepping forward and passed Sweetie Belle. He approached Zecora, finding unsure in expression and coming to shoulder height. He offered upturn palms.

“K’yan…erm… mulinart, Shanagin Zecora,” he said with a warm voice and respect. It had been a while since Zebrica but he wasn’t too rusty. Her eyes lit up, a chuckle escaping as she rested her hands atop his.

“K’yan mulinart, Vanue Ser Vincent,” she replied, earning a cordial bow of the head from him.

He withdrew his hands along hers, sliding under rather than dropping them. He rolled his right hand. “Just Ser Vincent will do.”

“What was that?” Sweetie Belle asked, soon joined by Apple Bloom who returned with wooden bowls.

“That’s zebra for ‘Hello’, right?” Apple Bloom passed Zecora glance for reassurance, earning a nod.

“Though my homeland has no word for your Equestrian knights, that does not mean we have no words for those who can fight.” Zecora ushered Ser Vincent to a seat at the table.

“Vanue are vanguards,” Vincent continued, enjoying being off his feet as he glanced to both fillies by the cauldron. “Of those who guard Zebrica they are the best of the best.” He took a seat close to the wall, the table being fit for four at most.

“Cool!” Apple Bloom chirped, looking to Zecora with an inquisitive glance. “Hey, Zecora, can we start greeting each other like that?”

The shaman quirked an amused brow. “If that is what you wish then you should make it known, my potion tricks are all you wanted to be shown.”

“Oh right!” All turned to Sweetie Belle who faced Apple Bloom with a giddy grin, “Apple Bloom, I’ve got an idea, but first let me tell you about what just happened.” With that she began to recount events that lead them there, starting from when the knight moved in.

“So, you are the one who’s stealing the attention.” Zecora’s words gained his focus. “You were a subject of Apple Bloom’s frequent mention.” She leant back on the cushioned seat, tilting her gaze with a ghost of a smile. “A brave and kind knight in their eyes, but something else beneath the disguise.”

He’d anticipated this. Sweetie Belle had stated that she and her friends had made the knight a topic of discussion within their school, and he couldn’t imagine Apple Bloom was quiet about him either. Still, to be so blatantly seen as something else other than a pony made his skin crawl beneath the armour.

“I take my occupation to my heart, Miss Zecora,” he began with professional pride, “I am a knight through and through.”

“Of this I have no doubt,” she replied, leaning forward with a pleasant smile. “So tell me, how may I help you out?” He saw that her ear had twisted away, catching the animated chatter of the fillies behind him.

Oh. He really didn’t have a clue as to how he was supposed to do this? What was here to do in first place? Maybe he should try what sparked his interest in the first place, before tackling what Miss Belle wanted.

“I happen to be a master of my alchemy field, which involves potion crafting with expensive and hard to find plants,” he said, glancing to the basket with leaves poking out. “I hear a few species of plants, poison joke, heart’s desire, etcetera, are obtainable in this forest, and that you would know where to find them.” He brought up both hands in a defensive manner, an ache in his left arm almost cracking his diplomatic voice, “You don’t have to worry, I can look after myself. Perhaps you could share with me what you’re using to ward off the animals? It would make the trek home safer for me and Miss Belle, too.”

There it was, all in one go. Nothing else was needed, right?

“I can show where these flowers do grow,” she said with a nod, “Is this all that you wish to know?” She tilted her head once again. This Zecora was pushing for something, and as Sweetie Belle’s intentions surfaced he realised just what. “I hear that you are new to the town, something which does cause you to frown. Are you without a library? Do you need a new wine cellar? I can show you the post office, even a cloud seller." She peered into him with a slight squint, the knight instinctively averting his gaze. "You hide your difference beneath your cloth, do you perhaps wish to show it off?”

He offered a shrug and folded his arms. He’d forgotten how tricky and mysterious these shamans were, crafty but friendly.

“I don’t show off. It’s rather arrogant to force everyone to see your achievements.” Being one of the most respected knights was a worthy title, but shoving that in everypony’s face just wasn’t his style. Not to say he was humble either, when asked he’d tell, but he wouldn’t embellish… too much. He patted his coat. “If this tricks ponies into thinking I’m a weird knight, but one they can talk to, then it’s better than being seen as a non-pony knight that they won’t talk to.” He shook his head. “Forgive me, I’m sensing a recurring theme in recent days that’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“I see you detest ponies who put you under reproach, especially when they comment upon your approach.” She turned away and he looked back to followed her gaze, spotting Sweetie Belle standing on the tips of her hooves to relay the size of the alpha timber wolf to the enraptured Apple Bloom. When Zecora spoke up once more, he turned back to her. “T’was dearest Apple Bloom who welcomed me first, when Ponyville thought I was the Everfree's worst. Beneath a shadowy hood I came to town, only to be met with a let-down. No stalls of veg and fruit nor ponies galore, vendors and families would lock their door.”

“They ostracised you?” Vincent asked with his hand clenching. She waved him off with a chuckle.

“I scared them with my presence so it did make sense, in a way. No, I was not chased out, but through the trust of a friend did their attitudes sway.” She nodded her head towards Sweetie Belle, cocking a brow at how she blew out a faint stream of smoke. She shook her head. “They see you are no threat, and in time, you’ll see, your hiding you’ll regret.”

Vincent offered a sigh, leaning back. What was with everypony and his choice in attire? It was fine until they realised he wasn’t a stallion. Either they don’t like him being a human knight because it scares them or they don’t like him being an overdressed stallion because it too strange for them. If it’s different they worry, if it’s weird they bother it.

‘How am I supposed to win this?’ In his brief moment of mental disparity, he failed to notice Little Miss Apple Bloom trot over to his side until she patted his shoulder.

“Is it true? Did you beat up a pack of timber wolves and then burn down the big wolf?” There was a childish glee befitting her excitement. She seemed amazed, hardly watching where she was placing the servings on the table. It smelt of parsnip and had an earthly aroma, likely from the portion of plants that were a part of a pony’s diet.

‘Alas, I’ll be in a worst state if I have any of this. Shame, always wanted to know what scarlet sage tasted like.’

“Technically, Miss Belle, burnt down the alpha wolf, I held it in place.” And he was paying for it.

“That’s amazing! Sweetie Belle says you also use potions, like Zecora.” To this, the zebra took interest. “Do you have anymore?”

He pulled out another vial of grey, gritty sludge. He held the vial of petrify in his open palm, briefly explaining its function and how he applied it. He also quickly referred to dragon’s breath when the small unicorn sneezed out a thick cloud of smoke.

“Ah, one who changes his shape and flesh, combining fire and breath for a fearsome mesh.” Zecora began with a cryptic smile, one that didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m curious as to what a humming could be. I doubt with the mask I’ll get to see.” She raised a hand before Ser Vincent could respond. “I will not pry nor will I press the issue, I wish sanctuary and comfort in here for you.”

He inclined his head foreword in gratitude. “Thank you, though I’m sorry to say that I can’t partake in this meal. Not just because of obvious reasoning… but, well, since you know, I can’t live on a pony’s diet because I’m not a pony.” He put his hand on his chest. Mirth creeping into his tone. “I’m called a human, not a humming.”

“Are yer sure?” Apple Bloom asked, innocently glancing to the bowl of stew. “Cuz I’m sure yer said that you were a humming.”

“You told everypony at school I was a humming?” Vincent tilted his head as she nodded sheepishly, a smirk creeping into his tone. “Well, you’re gonna have to tell them you were wrong.”

“Told you, you were wrong!” Apple Bloom stated, pointing to Sweetie Belle, who stood beside the cauldron gob smacked.

“Did not, you totally said that was what he was called!” Sweetie Belle reiterated, hoping over with an empty bowl. She placed on an empty space at the table as Apple Bloom turned to put her hands on her hips.

“Did not”

“Did to!”

“Did not!”

“Did to!”

“Did not!”

“Did to!”

“Did not!”

“Quiet,” Ser Vincent drawled with warning to the edge of his voice. He glanced to Sweetie Belle, discomfort with his species being the topic making his stomach knot. “Miss Belle, I believe it’s time to go. Your parents must be worried sick.” The knot tightened. It was late and she had been out all day with the strange knight that every pony was wary of. He’d escort her home safely, all the while dreading the confrontation with her parental figures.

“Oh no.” Sweetie Belle went wide eyed before galloping over to a large window, ears falling flat as she looked up. “It’s passed sun-hic-down. Aaaawww!” she wailed. Sweetie then turned around, pouting and moping over to the door.

“Is something the matter?” Zecora asked, getting up out of her seat.

“My big sister isn’t gonna teach me how to make cherry pie anymore because I said I would be back before sundown.” She groaned, stamping her hoof before looking to Vincent with anger. “Great! First we get lost, then we get attacked by timber wolves, I get dirty, my tummy still hurts, and when we finally find Zecora’s we have to go!” Her tail lashed as she marched up to the door and pulled it open.

“I don’t know how it can get any worse!” she squawked before there was a flash of light. Next came the thunder, followed by a monumental down pour. With cute ire and the wrath of a day’s frustration boiling over, she raised her arms and gestured outside. “Oh come on!”

Ser Vincent released an amused huff, shaking his head and bringing a hand to rest on his muzzle. Honestly, he felt sorry for the little filly. Well, he supposed that whilst he was here he might as well achieve something that she wanted. He glanced to Zecora. “Once I’m settled in and able, could you show me where some of those plants grow?” He earned a soft smile and a nod before Apple Bloom caught his eye.

She tapped her fingers together, her tongue pressing into her cheek as she mulled over something in thought. “C-could you, um, teach me a few things about makin’ potions?” Had she not barraged him with wide amber eyes he probably would told her a flat out no. “I mean, I’m really grateful that Zecora lets me help but I only really chop up a few things.”

Tearing his gaze away, he rubbed the back of his hooded head.

“Little Miss, please understand that I can’t always be here to teach you; I’m a knight not a teacher.” he began, Apple Bloom wilting a tad, “But I can tell you where to start, point you to a book or two. Also, you don’t start off making potions right away. There are things you need to learn, so Miss Zecora is not wrong.”

That perked Apple Bloom up, and feeling his business, however short and imposed on him it was, was over, he turned his attention back to Sweetie Belle. It was heart breaking seeing the angel white filly defeated as she stood in the doorway. Her ears hung heavy with self-assigned failure, tail limp as if dampened by the rain already, and he could have sworn he heard sniffled as he approached from behind.

He gently rested a hand on her shoulder, startling her. She wasn’t crying or tearing up, thankfully, but she was as every bit upset.

Ser Vincent’s voice was warm and sincere, and once again in a rare moment of self-awareness, he felt the smile on his lips beneath the mask. “Let’s take you home.”

“I’ll be soaking wet and I’ll end up in more tr-hic-ouble,” she mumbled, a weak ring of smoke puffing into existence.

Ser Vincent decided that drastic measures had to be taken, if only to repay the kindness shown, or at least attempted to be shown. He couldn’t sit by and not help, he had too much pride in what he did to ignore this.

“Huh?” Sweetie Belle was startled by the weight of the viridian long coat placed over her shoulders, much heavier than she would have expected. A warm spice was deeply inhaled, pleasant and soothing as she turned to face the now kneeling knight.

He’d lost the hood now, leaving wavy locks of short, wild hair to cling to his scalp, like sweat drenched roots. His ears were flat but rounded, strange but… not necessarily weird to look at. The mask was still there, hanging on snug and tight by three strong straps that reached around the back of his head. The shadow that once covered the eyes were gone, revealing glistening malachite orbs deep within that looked back kindly.

“It’s raining Miss Belle, and I would hate for you to get wet.”

Unsure and following through with the instinctive action of putting on a coat laid on to her, she found that she could only reach halfway through the wide arms of the coat, and that the bottom touched the floor.

“But it’s too bi--” she was cut off by him flipping the hood over, her horn causing it to tent. She had to wave her hands around to roll up enough sleeve, and when she did she found him standing in the rain, scaled body armour glistening with droplets.

“Do you need help returning home, Little Miss Apple Bloom?” Vincent called back into Zecora’s hut. Sweetie turned to find her school friend shaking her head and waving, a wide smile on her maw.

“No, I’m staying over! Thanks anyway! See you around, Mr Ser Vincent!”

“It’s Ser… never mind, Little Miss, never mind.” He turned his masked gaze to Zecora, using the dark of night to hide his exposed features. “Wilho’tyko, Shanagin Zecora.”

“Wilho’tyko, Vanue Vincent,” she returned, broadly smiling. “Though our meeting was for a short duration, next time let us extend such an occasion. Feel free to visit, Ser Knight, anytime. And know this: for you, friendship is not a crime.”

He didn’t offer any reaction, letting the rain patter off his muzzle and armour before mechanically turning to the filly buttoning up his oversized long coat.

“Shall we go?”

Under the hood and with only he muzzle poking out, she smiled and said, “Lets.”