The tingling warmth that spread through my body wasn't particularly unpleasant, at first. It was making me itch in strange places, but it was tolerable, as long as I took a moment to scratch myself. Hooves didn't make for good scratchers however, and no matter how much I did it, the itch came back. I was going to start getting sore skin at this rate.

I turned to face the Shaman as she approached, her calm gait oddly intimidating as she held that strange wooden tool up in front of herself. It definitely wasn't a weapon, it was no spiked baseball bat, but the row of three needle-like wood spikes certainly promised pain if she whacked you with it. It probably would've mattered more to me if I wasn't constantly being interrupted by an itch in a strange place. It especially seemed to focus around my cutie marks.

"<You have been injected with a non-lethal truth serum,>" she said, stopping in front of me and looking down at me. "<As long as you tell the truth, the itching won't get worse. If you lie however, it will get worse. Significantly worse.>"

I winced and vigorously scratched at an itch on my flank. "<How bad are we talking here?>"

"<There have been several cases of ponies tearing their throats open in a bid to satisfy the itch.>"

"What?!" I barked in shock, struggling not to go after an itch that just happened to pop up on the side of my neck. "<That doesn't sound like something a Shaman would do!>"

"<Their deaths were not by our hooves,>" she explained calmly, her eyes never moving away from me. "<They were warned of the consequences of lying. They refused to stop lying. They reaped the consequences of their own foolishness.>"

That didn't exactly put my mind at ease. If anything it only made me more afraid of my current situation. Not to mention I didn't exactly agree with the idea that she couldn't be held accountable for me clawing my neck into raw meat if I refused to give her honest answers. Non-lethal my nerdy flank!

"<If you run away from me, I will disappear. If that is not your desire, you will stay and answer my questions truthfully,>" she said, holding the needled stick toward me. "<If you attempt to attack me, I will use this. The needles are lined with a catalyst that will trigger the itching sensation in full. Then I will leave you here without giving you the antidote. What happens to you after that would no longer be my concern.>"

"<I see...okay,>" I said slowly, cringing as the itching sensation on my neck got worse, prompting me to scratch it before I could think of stopping myself. "<I can do this.>"

"<Good. First,>" she said, walking around to my side. "<Are you armed with any weapons outside of your horn?>"

"<No.>" I answered quickly, bracing just in case I started to itch for no reason.

She waited for a time, watching me to see my body's reaction before nodding in approval. "<Did you work at your friend's farm last night?>"

"<Yes.>"

Once again, a pause before she continued. "<Are you a pegasus?>"

I blinked at the question, then shook my head. "<No, of course not.>"

"<Now, I want you to answer this next question with a lie,>" she said, moving to stand in front of me. "<It will help you understand. Is that acceptable?>"

"<Yes.>"

I froze as the tingling warmth in my body began to come to the surface. My eyes widened in dread as that warmth began to make my already sensitive skin itch, more and more, over every inch of my body. Just the light shifting of the air around me was enough to make me yelp in alarm as my entire body began to scream for me to scratch everywhere. I couldn't keep my composure, and I began to reach everywhere to scratch myself.

It's difficult to fully explain how bad it actually was. When you scratch an itch, it usually goes away after a few seconds. With this, it was like I was scratching the itch, but just the touch of my hoof was setting my nerves off all over again. It was a looping cycle of torment that even my clothes were only making worse. If I'd been naked, it would've been just a little bit more bearable, but not by any significant amount, I guessed.

"<It would appear that that was not actually acceptable to you,>" she said, seemingly unsurprised by the sudden itching attack I was going through. "<Honesty matters more than anything right now. I will ask once more: is that acceptable?>"

I hissed in a breath and forced my forehooves down to the ground. "<N-no!>"

The effect was immediate, and beyond satisfying. The full-body itching sensation quickly faded away, as if it had never happened to begin with. Only the residual tingling left any sign that it actually happened. I sighed happily and quickly scratched at a few remaining itchy feelings on one of my forelegs, panting lightly from the sudden rush the experience had given me. The entire time, the Shaman was patiently waiting for me to recover.

"<Relax your body, it will fade faster,>" she said, sitting down in front of me. "<When you lie, you will suffer. The moment you tell me the true answer to my question, the itching will disappear. If you say nothing, you will suffer. If you answer with an irrelevant response, be it true or false, you will suffer. That is the nature of this serum.>"

"<Yes...yes, I think I get how this works now,>" I said, swallowing nervously. "<Let's continue.>"

"<As you wish.>"

"<If I may, Shaman,>" I said, clearing my throat. "<Why did you do this to me?>"

"<I cannot take the risk of you lying to me,>" she said simply, lightly shrugging. "<This ensures that you will be honest, or risk death by your own hooves.>"

"<It's a very extreme solution...but I can understand I suppose,>" I responded, grunting and scratching my cheek. "<You have a lot of secrets to keep.>"

"<I'm glad you understand,>" she said, bowing her head ever so briefly. "<Now. What is your reason for seeking my counsel?>"

"<I have problems I'm dealing with where the assistance of a Shaman would be very beneficial for me,>" I stated calmly, trying to sit up straighter despite my exhaustion. "<I don't have the resources or knowledge that a Shaman does.>"

"<I see. What kind of assistance do you desire from me?>"

I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what might come next. "<I humbly ask you for the healing potion your people are known for.>"

"<You would not be the first mage to ask for such a potion,>" she muttered, shaking her head. "<And why would you need such a thing? If you ask for it because of your bad leg, I am afraid it is too late for that. It will not heal an injury so old and...settled, for lack of a better term.>"

"<I hadn't actually thought about that, no....>" I answered slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"<Then what reason could you have for wanting the Fool's Errand?>" she asked, firmly tapping one of her hindhooves against the grass.

I clenched my teeth and shook my head. "<I'd rather not say.>"

It started out slow at first, and this time I was ready. I could feel the itching sensation build throughout every part of my body, like bugs crawling under my skin. I shivered and shook my head quickly a few times, just trying to ride it out. Soon it was all over my face, under my mane, behind and inside my ears...I couldn't stand it. I almost lit my horn in an attempt to scratch every part of my body all at once, but I had to keep this on her terms. At the same time, I really didn't want to tell her my plans.

"<That does not answer my question, Twilight Sparkle.>"

"<I know! I just...please,>" I struggled to say, scraping at the back of one of my ears with a hoof. "<Don't make me answer this!>"

"<It is too late for that. The question has been asked,>" she said, stepping closer and holding up that barbed stick of hers threateningly. "<You will answer, or you will suffer and die.>"

I seethed and hissed out a breath from between my clenched teeth, my eyes clenching shut even as the pain in my muzzle flared up, only to be replaced by a fiery itching sensation. My legs felt weak and it was hard to form thoughts as the desire to just scratch and never stop scratching enveloped my senses entirely. I just wanted to collapse and scrape at my body all over until it stopped.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, taking in deep breaths and letting them out in slow, rhythmic patterns. I needed to center myself and put everything else out. The feeling on my skin like bugs marching their way through my fur, the burning reflexive desire to satisfy the itching sensation, all of it had to be separated from my consciousness. It would take some doing, but even with how I felt at the time, it was possible.

"<None of that.>"

The sudden slap of something sharp against my side caused me to cry out in alarm and panic as the itching sensation suddenly flared to life with all the intensity of a screaming, gaping wound. Instantly, I fell onto my side and convulsed at the burning, itching sensation that engulfed my side, then my entire body as the catalyst spread through me. There wasn't a single inch of my body that wasn't calling for my undivided attention, and it only took a few seconds for my resolve to break as I rolled and panted breathlessly on the ground, reaching for various parts of my body to scrape and scratch at with my hooves.

It didn't help. Nothing helped. I couldn't think straight, and the thought of tearing my own skin open never even entered my mind as I reached for my neck and face and began to rub and scrape it it incessantly. Harder and harder I ground my hooves into myself, trying in vain to satisfy the itch that refused to disappear. Even blinking made the itching on my eyelids worse, and I clenched them shut in a desperate attempt to at least lessen their intensity.

It's worth noting that I've never been put into a situation where I've suffered anything worse than a waterboarding. I've never had my limbs broken to force me into compliance, I've never had anyone hold a hacksaw to my horn and threaten to remove it if I didn't tell them what they wanted to know. I've never suffered for days on end from torture after excruciating torture, unlike the torture I've put numerous Mafia thugs through in my basement.

It was only when I felt someone grabbing me and firmly pinning my legs down that my focus was ever-so-briefly turned away from my own body. That didn't stop me from screaming and trying to scratch at myself with my horn instead, something the Shaman quickly put to a stop as she bent one foreleg and pinned mine with her body. She firmly grabbed hold of my horn and wrenched it in an odd direction, giving it occasional twists and tugs whenever I tried to pour magic through it.

"<Talk! Speak the truth, and the torment will lessen!>" she demanded, giving a pull on my horn to force my head to bend back further. "<Now!>"

"Grraahhh!!" I screamed while trying to fight against her grip, on the verge of hyperventilation as the itching continued to intensify everywhere. "I want to kill them all!!!"

The moment I let the floodgates open, they refused to close, and I think the Shaman knew that. It could've also been her knowledge of the nature of the serum she used on me, because the moment I said it, the itching lessened. Spurred on by the blissful sensation, I quickly sat up as she hopped off of me, standing aside and listening intently while I began to spill the beans. I just didn't care at that point. All that mattered was making the itch go away.

"They ruined my life and I want them to suffer like I suffered! No no, I want them to have it worse!" I spouted, grinning with manic glee as the itching continued to fade. "I want to gut the entirety of the Mafia and watch them bleed and beg for me to stop! I want to have every last one of those stupid pricks broken and bleeding to death on the streets until the dirt and the stones are stained red! I want to rip their balls off and feed them to their families!!"

If she was in any way offended by what I was saying, she didn't show it. She seemed rather calm, considering. She certainly made no move to stop me. She just stood there and let me keep going.

"Do you-do you have any idea what they did to me when I was six?!" I asked, giggling far faster and far more giddily than I could ever remember myself doing. "They made me kill a mare! Then they kept making me do it to other ponies until I got really good at it!"

She simply shifted her stance, and motioned for me to continue. I shouldn't have wanted to, but there's something relieving about revealing your secrets to someone. You aren't the only one that has to hold on to those secrets anymore, and in my case, the secrets were heavy indeed.

"Heh-hnngh!" I began to laugh, before my senses began to slowly come back to me. "That's...oh sweet Celestia...that's why I want the Fool's Errand. I saw an opportunity, and I couldn't pass it up. I have plans. I have so many plans, but the Fool's Errand would be an excellent safety net! That, and your knowledge of potions and concoctions that even the Magus are unaware of could be extremely useful in emergencies."

"<I see,>" she said, nodding and reaching into her saddlebag, producing a vial with a strange, glowing blue liquid. "<A final question then. Do you intend to harm me in any way or betray me?>"

"<Absolutely not!>" I answered quickly, panting in satisfaction as the itch finally died down enough that I could control myself. "<I don't like harming people that don't deserve it.>"

She seemed to ponder on my answer for a time, while I quickly began to reach the very end of my patience. That vial signified the end of this torture, and I cannot accurately express just how much I wanted it in that singular instant. The morning light glinted off of the glass, and the dim glow of the blue fluid called to me like an orgasm demands the full and unbroken attention of a stallion when it's time for that special moment to happen.

I think she saw me reaching for it with my hoof, because she came right over and gave it to me without any further hesitation. I looked between the potion and her a few times, before she nodded and motioned for me to drink it. I quickly uncorked the top of the vial and held it up to my lips, quickly tipping my head back and draining it into my mouth. The taste was...something else.

As soon as I had it down, I blinked in surprise. "<Guh, that...I tasted some kind of sweet fruit, but where was the cheese from?!>"

"<The flavor of the antidote is nasty, but it can be masked with a mix of zebrican mango and the ackee fruit, which tastes like cheese. Now,>" she said, turning without a word and beckoning for me to follow. "<Come with me. We will talk more in the safety of my home.>"

I stood slowly, the sudden breeze setting my skin off, but not like it had previously. There was still an errant scratch here and there, but they could be driven off with a quick rub or grind of a forehoof. Nothing like the absolute agony that was the last ten minutes. She was already at the treeline by the time the antidote really began to take effect, and I trotted to catch up with her. I wasn't exactly feeling up to a full run.

"<Shaman...would you have let me kill myself?>" I asked, frowning at the thought.

"<No. That is not a fate that you deserve. Besides,>" she said, glancing back at me with a faint smile. "<Do you truly believe that I would not feel responsible? We strive for pacifism.>"

"Oh. <Then, why did you let other ponies-?>"

She quickly shook her head. "<We strive for pacifism. That does not mean we always succeed, especially when other people force our hoof on the matter.>"

"<That...makes sense, I guess,>" I muttered slowly, glancing off to the side. "<That's a relief. Everything I've ever heard about Shamans says they're flawless in their pacifism.>"

"<You should not believe everything you hear...or read, for that matter.>"

"<Well I just assumed based off of historical documents, and you know what they say about assuming,>" I said, trying to catch up with her as we disappeared into the Everfree together. "<It makes an ass out of you and me.>"

"<How racist of you,>" she said, glancing back at me with a faint smirk. "<I have never met a donkey whose company I did not enjoy.>"

I cracked a smile and shook my head. "<I get the feeling you know the actual origin of that saying, and you're just pulling my leg.>"

"<Perhaps!>"

I stumbled for just a moment as a thick branch got caught under my hooves. "<Uh, by the way, if it's not too much, could I ask you your name now?>"

She didn't even bother to look back at me, marching through the underbrush like she owned the forest itself. "<When we reach my hut, I will tell you what you wish to know.>"

Needless to say, we fell into a sort of companionable silence after that. I was still rather miffed about the way she'd treated me. I could still feel the itching, and who just up and does that to a pony?! I mean it's fucked up, alright? I know, pot calling the kettle black over here.

The bushes and tree branches we passed by weren't helping my case either. Due to the thickness of the forest, I wasn't feeling much in the way of wind, but that didn't stop me from getting smacked in the head with leaves here and there, forcing me to keep my head low and out of the way for fear of a particularly thick branch catching me unaware and damaging my muzzle more than it already was. On top of that, I was still sore and exhausted from work, and you know that feeling you get all over when you've pulled an all-nighter? The one where you feel cold but sweaty and humid in your own clothes? Yeah, I had that going on, and the moisture in the early morning air wasn't helping matters. I hadn't even had a chance to take a shower!

I would've showered at the farm if I'd known this was going to happen. I figured that maybe we'd talk things out, she'd size me up, and then maybe she'd hopefully decide to talk more at a later date at her home or something. I did not expect to get darted and quizzed on threat of death by throat-rending and torturous itching, only to then be led through the Everfree by the same pony that tortured me.

It'd be worth it though. I could put all that aside if it meant even a chance of her helping me out. It didn't sit well with me that she had a vague understanding of my plans now, but I'd have to play it by ear on that front. If this whole thing really went south on me, I'd just have to make sure she didn't blab. Whether that meant breaking her mind and altering her memories or outright killing her, I couldn't be sure at the time.

The trek to her home wasn't actually as long as I'd initially expected. Shamans were the reclusive sort, so I expected this to take like...I dunno, hours or something. In actuality, it only took half an hour of constant walking to get there, during which she pointedly avoided being much of a conversational companion. Unfortunate for me, since talking with her would've at least helped me stay awake. I was getting really drowsy after that trying incident, and a bed sounded like the best thing in the world at the time.

Her house, however, managed to pique my interest, if only because it wasn't the most well-hidden thing in the forest. The clearing that the hut was located in wasn't particularly big, but given the fact that someone lived in it, it had to be all kinds of conspicuous to the creatures that lived in the forest. On top of that, it looked like a giant tree stump that was cut down, hollowed out, and turned into a makeshift home. You know, like a luxury apartment for a hobo or wildpony. Most huts I knew of were in Zebrica, and those were built from carved and processed wood or thatch.

The walls inside of the hut were just about as non-descript as the outside. No fancy paint of any sort, and unlike the average home that has multiple layers making up a single wall, she hadn't really insulated it against more grievous temperature changes. I figured perhaps she just hadn't gotten around to it yet, and her accent did hint at her being native to Zebrica, so maybe she just wasn't used to the concept of snow and freezing cold temperatures? At least, not the way the vast majority of us Equestrians were.

That doesn't even factor in the absurdity that is the Everfree Forest's self-contained and consistently changing climate. Ah well, that was less important than the decorations she'd adorned the walls with. If there was any doubt about whether she was a zebrican native or not, it was banished from my mind the moment I saw the masks she had hanging on the walls directly next to the entrance. If I was remembering my zebrican history correctly, the two signs stacked one above the other, from top to bottom, indicated this was a place of health and happiness. It was a common custom among the many tribes to carve masks and display them in their houses, depending on the seasons and the goings-on in the lives of the members of the household. Unfortunately, certain factions made masks of different designs from other tribes, so I couldn't be a hundred percent sure that was what those two masks stood for. Similarities tended to carry over, but the changes could mean the difference between health and happiness, and strife and irritation. I was leaning more towards the former because both masks were smiling.

That wasn't the only thing in the room that caught my attention however. There were herbs and noise-making gourds hanging from the ceiling, some likely for decoration and warding away evil spirits, and others were probably alchemical ingredients currently undergoing a drying process. On top of that, there were several shelves lined with ingredients both rare and common, I even saw the venom gland from a manticore's tail sitting in a corner! Several tables took up space along the outer edges of the main room, and each one had scorch marks and stains all over it, each one of different colors. The only table that escaped this description was a table on the far side of the room, right under one of the two windows. It had two chairs set up on either side of it, and it had clearly been carved out of the inside of the tree itself, very similar to the way certain aspects of the Golden Oaks Library had been carved out.

The only other room I saw was past a bead curtain that separated the main room from what I was guessing was either a kitchen or her bedroom. Perhaps even a bathroom. Zebras were known for being particularly hardy, and it wasn't like sleeping on a hard floor was too uncomfortable. Surely if that were the case, she likely had some cushions tucked away somewhere, but that hut was way too well-built for her to overlook the comfort of an actual bed.

I heard the door close behind me, and I looked back to see her shutting it and flipping a thick metal lock into place on it. I suppose when it comes to home security living out in the middle of one of the most volatile natural places in Equestria, short of the Living Meadows, you'd rather rely on something like solid steel over more natural solutions. Couldn't blame her for that, even if it messed with the whole 'natural-built home inside of a hollowed-out tree trunk' aesthetic. Then again, there was that giant iron cauldron she had set up right in the middle of the room, so maybe it wasn't that out of place.

"You have shown respect, and requested my counsel, so I shall speak plainly in your language," she said, walking past me and her cauldron, taking a seat at the table by the window and slipping her saddlebags off of her back. "Join me, and we shall talk as equals."

I walked over and took a seat without question, glancing out of the window briefly before looking back at her. "Isn't that unorthodox? I thought Shamans always spoke in rhyme when not speaking Zebrikaans."

"It is a matter of respect, Twilight Sparkle," she said, visibly relaxing while cracking a faint smile. "You have shown respect to me despite my rude transgressions, and you made a formal request. There are no traditions behind it, but it is only proper to show the same respect in turn."

"Then...why speak in rhyme all the time?" I asked, shifting to my left and right to get just a little more comfortable in my seat. "That's something Shamans are known for."

She actually chuckled and shook her head. "Speaking in rhyme is not necessary, but we Shamans do it in order to keep our minds sharp. It also encourages us to always think about what we are going to say before we say it. Besides, if we always spoke in rhyme to everyone we met, how would we ever keep our presence hidden? We only do it with those we trust, or feel we can trust."

"Wait, then..." I began to say, something not adding up. "Where did that belief come from? That Shamans always talk in rhyme?"

She smiled smugly and tilted her head to her left. "Misdirection is always useful, even if it is not intended. What they do not know only benefits us."

"Makes sense...alright," I said, glancing around the room curiously. "So, I'm guessing you wanted to talk about something?"

"A few things. You could compare this to a business deal of sorts. But first, I believe a better introduction between us is in order," she said, holding a gold-adorned foreleg out to me over the table. "You may call me Zecora."

I quickly extended my own and touched hooves with her. "Well, aside from the dart to the neck and the pseudo-torture, well-met. I apologize if I don't sound particularly enthusiastic right now, I'm very tired."

She gave me a curt nod and lowered her leg. "Then I apologize for having to keep you up longer, but I feel that what you are doing is of particular importance. Please, explain your plan. I trust you understand that what is spoken of in this home is never repeated outside of it unless you wish it to be?"

"Of course! Of course...uh," I began, reaching up to rub the back of my neck sheepishly. "Unfortunately, the plan isn't particularly specific at the moment. If I'd started when I was younger I would've been able to really get to work immediately, but...."

"When you were younger?" she asked, her eyes glancing up and down my body. "But you are already so young. How much younger could you have possibly been?"

I sighed slowly and glanced off to the side. "They got me when I was six. Heh, I didn't choose the Mafia life, the Mafia life chose me!"

She stared at me for a time, her eyes drilling into my own before she stood up from her seat. "I will prepare something to give you more energy. Perhaps it would be best if you started from the beginning."

So I did. While she prepared some kind of concoction in her cauldron, I began to recount the events leading up to my present day activities. I knew with a high level of certainty that I could trust her to never speak a word of my actions to anyone, and the entire time, she listened without a hint of judgment. I saw pity in her eyes, but she didn't judge me for my behavior. I confessed to my experiments on live subjects, the murder of numerous Mafia goons...it was very relieving, to just tell all of that to someone.

By the time she finished the potion and began to fill several empty jars with the excess of the concoction, I was done talking. I had to explain how little of a plan I actually had at the moment. Right now it was a matter of securing funds and influence wherever I could. That was going to take a lot of time and I knew it. More than I would've preferred, but as I've said before, I can be very patient.

When she finished with her task, she sat down across from me, with a single smaller glass in her hoof. She set it down in front of me and motioned for me to drink it. I looked down at the dirty yellow liquid I was being offered before shrugging and bracing myself, pressing the glass to my lips and knocking back as much of it as I could stomach without taking a breath. The drink was a little thick and tasted of honey and lemons, though I didn't recall seeing her mixing any lemons into the cauldron. Then again, I was also really tired at the time, so it's possible I missed some things while I was rambling on about my life.

The moment it began to settle in my stomach, I could feel a warm sensation spreading through my body. Nothing like the intense itching from before, this was more like a feeling of an internal massage going off while my veins flooded with adrenaline. I felt more awake, more alert and more energetic than I could ever remember, even before the farm work I did, and after I put the glass down, I had to shake my head to try and deal with the buzzing ringing in my ears.

She gave me time to acclimate to the potion's effects before speaking. "You walk a dark and dangerous path, Twilight Sparkle. It is not one I can agree with."

"I know," I said, running a hoof over the top of my head. "But please try to understand my situation."

"Explain it to me then, so I may hopefully comprehend," she said, resting a hoof against the top of the table and leaning some of her weight on it. "You have a son, a family that cares for you, the attention of both Princesses, and you are fairly wealthy. Why would you make such a self-destructive choice?"

"Because I hate them!" I said, struggling to restrain the guttural growl that threatened to rise up with it. "It's not...look, I know it's not a smart choice. But I look back on my life and how completely fucked up it all is, and all I see is what they turned me into! I hate them with every fiber of my being, and the idea of them not having to suffer for what they did to me makes me feel hollow inside!"

"Hollow?"

"Empty! Dead, useless, whatever you want to call it!" I said, pressing a hoof to my chest and inhaling deeply, then letting it out slowly while extending my foreleg to calm myself down. "Sorry. Just...very touchy subject."

"It is fine. Please, continue."

I sighed and nodded to her. "I used to have so many nightmares. I kept seeing ponies dying when I slept, ponies I killed, and it ate away at me, made sure I got very little sleep. I thought I was doing okay when I finally stopped having the nightmares, but then I realized that I just stopped feeling bad about what I was doing. That was when I knew they'd ruined me. They're...they're infections that poison everything they touch, including ponies! If I don't make them pay for what they did to me, then how can I live with myself?"

"Then what of your son?" she asked, motioning in the general direction of Ponyville. "Your friends, your family? I feel I must discourage you from this task you have set before yourself, and I must remind you that your actions could put them all at risk."

"That's something I've thought about a lot, but the conclusion is still the same. I need to do this," I responded, tapping the edge of my hoof against the top of the table. "My son is going to get a lot of attention when he's older. He's smart, he's well-read, and even at his age, he's capable. I have connections to the Mafia. I can't leave them be when I know damn well they'll come after him once they can find a use for him."

"And what of your friends? Do they not concern you as well?" she asked, maintaining her stoic demeanor.

"Well aside from the whole eternal night thing happening if I didn't meet them, they would've been better off having never met me in the first place," I said, gently rubbing over the braced bridge of my muzzle. "Now they're fairly famous and I can't be around to keep them safe forever."

"You say that as if you are a one-mare army," she said, getting up from her seat and stepping away from the table. "You cannot be everywhere at once."

"Perhaps not, but my words and my influence can," I said, turning to face her better, leaning one side against the side of the table. "I know how they work. They can't make any overt moves without me noticing. Not to mention, they don't realize they've got a snake in the hen house...huh. I think I talked with Big Macintosh too much last night. I'm using farming phrases."

"It could also be that you are still tired," she said, approaching one of her workbenches and pulling some ingredients out from different crates beneath it. "That made no sense at all."

"What I mean is, while I'm not working with them anymore, they don't realize I'm starting to make moves against them," I said, unable to hold back a sly grin. "I'll pick 'em apart while they sleep and leave nothing come morning."

"Hm. While I do not agree with your choice, I do understand it," she said, reaching for a mortar and pestle she had sitting on a shelf above the workbench. "It reminds me of the tale of King Zulu. I worry that history may repeat itself with you."

"King Zulu...I recall the name, but not the story."

"The tale is long, but I will simplify it," she said, never taking her eyes away from her work as she put several ingredients into the bowl and began to mash them up. "Zulu was a king unlike any us zebras had ever seen, but when the minotaurs began to impede upon his domain, he was outclassed, in intellect as well as military might."

"Okay, that reminds me of a few things..." I said, tapping my chin. "If I recall, he went and declared war with them regardless."

"Correct! A most foolish decision, and his people did not fully back him, though he intimidated many of them into obedience. It would not work forever," she said, shaking her head slowly. "He had visions of the future for his people. He refused to let the minotaurs impede his goals, even if that meant forcibly keeping them far, far away. He was very xenophobic."

"Yeah, he was. Kinda failing to see how my activities remind you of him though."

"Let me finish," she said, holding up a hoof. "His war with them did not end well, and did not last for very long in comparison to many other wars. However, while the war was waged, he became progressively more and more unstable after several failed assassination attempts. He began to jump at shadows and make absurd laws and declarations for his people. When his armies were routed, none would follow him again. When the minotaurs gave him a final chance at peace, he attempted to strike down their envoy in sheer rage, and was struck down instead by an archer in the distance. A zebra archer."

"Alright. Still not seeing it though."

She sighed and grabbed a larger bowl, pouring the contents from her mortar into it. "He was a very proud and very angry king, Twilight Sparkle. He was arrogant enough to believe that no matter what, he must succeed in his endeavors. It led him down a dangerous and destructive path that only ended in his own demise, and the demise of many of his own people. People that believed he was right. In the end, one of his own people put him down because he had lost himself to his hatred, and was actively damaging his own people's reputation."

She turned away from the bench and walked closer to her cauldron, raising up onto her hindlegs to grab some of what looked like holly off of a string suspending it from the ceiling. I couldn't even fathom what she was going to do with that, I wasn't the greatest alchemist and Shaman alchemy was even more of an alien concept to me. For the life of me, I couldn't even begin to come up with an idea of what she was mixing up in that bowl.

"You hate them with all your heart, so much that you would put the well-being of your son, your family and even your friends at risk," she said, giving me a stern glare. "But you feel driven to do so. You have a black fire burning deep in your soul that cannot be snuffed out with anything less than the blood of your chosen enemy."

"That's a poetic way of putting it, and it's not like I want them to be at risk, but...." I said, shuffling self-consciously in my seat.

"Of course not. You do not strike me as the heartless type," she said, using a strangely-shaped scoop to crunch and mash the dried plant into the rest of the mush she'd poured into the bowl. "A heartless pony who has lost her empathy, as those with your experiences in life often do, would not choose to help her friend by working through the night and working herself to exhaustion. I would even say that your self-awareness is what stopped you from falling so far. However...."

She picked the bowl up and calmly walked over to her cauldron, carefully scooping the mushy contents into it. I could hear the water begin to sizzle, and strange oily bubbles rose up from the surface, floating into the air and popping noisily. Out of curiosity, I got up from my seat and walked over to it, looking to her for permission to come closer. She seemed to know what I was asking, and motioned me over to watch while she picked up a thick oaken stick that had been leaning against the inside of the cauldron, slowly stirring it in a lazy circle.

She reached over after a few moments and pressed a hoof to my chest. "I understand why you feel you must do this, and I will not tell you to not stand so close to that fire. Just be careful that you do not fall into it. Do you understand what I am telling you? Do not be another King Zulu."

"I think I get it...maybe," I said, looking down at the bubbling concoction. "You don't want me to go crazy and get so obsessed with taking them down that I start losing my equinity in exchange for every step I take closer to my goal."

She smiled more genuinely at me, the corners of her eyelids crinkling up along with the corners of her muzzle. "Yes, that is what matters most. As Celestia would say, trust in Harmony. You more than most others, considering you bear one of the Elements of Harmony!"

"Hah! I still can't believe one of those Elements chose me. The thought of it boggles the mind."

"At first glance, perhaps," she said, her smile fading slowly. "Do you believe that after you succeed, if you succeed, you will be able to live in peace once again?"

"...I don't know," I said slowly, shrugging. "I hope I can. That's a long ways off though."

"What will you do if you can't?" she asked, resuming stirring her mixture. "What if the fire never fades, and the urge to kill rises up within you again, and you no longer have an acceptable outlet for it? To be blunt, you are a serial killer. Maybe because you are psychopathic, maybe because you simply hate the Mafia so very much. No matter how well you may think of yourself, you are a very real danger to the ponies around you."

"As long as I had the freedom to choose, I have always done everything I possibly can to avoid killing anyone that didn't deserve it," I said quickly, scowling at nothing as several memories flooded my mind. "I've never felt good about killing those that had nothing to do with it. They didn't deserve it, but sometimes I'd get orders, and if I didn't follow through...."

"Yes, of course," she said, staring into the bubbling cauldron. "That at least shows some promise. Maybe the pony you once were before they dug their claws into you can be brought to the surface once more. Only time will tell."

I nodded once, and silence fell upon us for a time. She seemed very focused on her cauldron, and I guessed that whatever she was making required close attention. It wasn't like a pot of soup, you couldn't just walk away and leave the stuff to simmer until it was ready. Potion-making was often very involved, there were actually very few potions you could just pour things into a pot and simmer in order to make them. Most of them are bordering on useless. Without much else to do, I went to sit down again, taking the time to get comfortable.

The potion I drank had a strange effect on me. Almost like caffeine, but it didn't make my heart race. I felt more energetic and more eager to move around and do something, but the underlying exhaustion that comes from a lack of sleep was still there, no matter how aware I really felt. As I watched her work, I could feel my eyes drooping, but it took very little effort for me to shake it off and sit up straight. Guess I couldn't afford to get cozy.

"Uh, so," I said, clearing my throat. "Are you willing to help me?"

"I cannot say for sure. What you plan to do goes against the very pacifism I try to live my life by. However," she said, never taking her eyes away from the cauldron, looking between the top of it and the fire underneath. "Let us go with a hypothetical, that I do help you. You must understand that all I can do is try. There is no guarantee when it comes to the Fool's Errand."

"I've heard it's extremely hard to make. I'm guessing there's some truth to that?"

"The conditions must be exact and remain absolutely the same the entire time it is being made. If the temperature changes even a single full degree, the Fool's Errand is little more than slop in a container," she said, glancing over at me for only a moment. "Among many other potential factors. Many of the ingredients are also particularly rare and expensive to get your hooves on."

"I'm sure I could afford them," I said, then blinked. "But you'd never tell me what those ingredients are to begin with, would you?"

She smirked at me and looked down at the cauldron again, then just as quickly stopped stirring and bent down to snuff out the flame under the cauldron. "You would be correct! I would accept payment for my services, however. Enough to cover the cost of those ingredients. I have my own way of getting them, but as I said, this is all hypothetical."

"Right, of course."

"Perhaps next time you come to Ponyville, I will have made my decision on the matter, but for now, I must consider my options," she said, motioning to the door. "Can you make it back to Ponyville on your own?"

"Er...I'm not so sure," I said, rubbing my forehead. "I'm exhausted and I don't have a whole lot of my magic left in me."

"Then give me just a little while longer, and I will escort you out of the forest."

I nodded and waited patiently for her to finish up, though after a while I inquired as to the nature of the potion she was making. She hadn't emptied the cauldron, and whatever she mixed in, that was still the potion I'd drank earlier. Apparently whatever I'd chugged down, it wasn't so good for plants, and she wanted to alter it so she could nourish a nearby group of mushrooms in hopes of being able to cultivate some truffles from them down the line.

Once she was done, she walked me through the underbrush of the Everfree until we were out of the forest once again, this time near a road that passed by the edge of it. With a quick farewell, we both went out separate ways, and I worked to find out exactly where I was. By the time I arrived at Fluttershy's cottage, it was eight in the morning just about, I didn't pay too much attention to the clock when I walked in. Fluttershy was already up, but Spike was asleep on the couch.

We greeted each other, but she could tell I wasn't really up for conversation at the time. Instead, she let me head upstairs, wash up, and pass out in her bed. I can easily say, without a shred of doubt, that flopping down in that bed after a shower was the best thing ever to me at the time. While it was faint, Fluttershy's scent was in the pillow along with the brand of shampoo she preferred, and the covers smelled like her as well. I found being surrounded by her scent very relaxing.

Am I weird for being so focused on her scent? Eh, maybe I am. She really does smell quite wonderful. In any case, it wasn't long before I was asleep and gone for the majority of the day after that. A rest well-earned, if you ask me.

Author's Notes:

Well, this chapter was fun! Sorry about the arrow brackets with talking in Zebrikaans and such, but those are whole sentences and I definitely don't know anyone that can give me whole sentences in that language, let alone sit down and put out that much dialogue for me. Better than me trying to do Google Translate, right? Plus, I think the beginning of this chapter would be frustrating and nigh-unreadable if I went and did that.

As for King Zulu, that's a reference to Shaka Zulu, but don't expect any accuracy. I did not research Shaka Zulu, and don't know any specifics about him, so you can take this more as vague inspiration than anything else. If you want to know about Shaka Zulu, look him up.

Next chapter's an Interlude chapter.