Zecora, having restored herself to her natural zebra form, stood alone on a rocky plateau, balancing herself on one hind leg and meditating. There were peals of thunder from the direction of the Lost Valley, but rather than let them distract her, she focused on their lack of rhythm to further clear her mind. She surmised that she would need all the clarity she could get for when Luna arrived.

With her mind perfectly still, it did not take long for Zecora to be able to make out the beating of wings coming in her direction. She frowned. Luna's healing was amazing, but from what she had seen, there was no way the Princess's wings would be in good, painless condition for flying yet. Once the timing of the wing flaps grew loud enough, the lids of her eyes rose to watch Luna come into view. Her frown deepened when she noticed the state she was in.

Luna's mane was beyond disheveled; it had been slashed into ribbons, creating dozens of tiny nebula rivulets, some flowing in various different directions, others hanging limply from her scalp. Worse, the rest of her body had been attacked as well. Her sides were marred by claw-shaped patches of crimson stains, several of which were still open and dripping. But the only thing Luna seemed to notice with her reddened, unblinking eyes, was Zecora. Every muscle in Luna's body was just as tense, even after she came to a hard, earth-cracking landing a few dozen feet away.

“If a stone you want to be,” Zecora whispered to herself as she slowly, precisely pulled herself out of her meditation posture and assumed a simple, sturdy, four-legged stand. “Then a stone you will also see.”

“Zecora,” Luna said, her voice sharp and taut like a metal wire. “We must find a safe place to speak. I fear I may soon be followed.”

Having anticipated a need for privacy for one reason or another, Zecora gestured toward a formation of stone that formed a sort of canopy, blocking anything underneath from view from all angles but a single, ground-based one. With neither a word nor a look, Luna walked rigidly toward it, and sat in the center of the natural tent. She kept both wings, one of which was missing entire swaths of feathers, fully splayed. Her chest was held out proudly, making the sparkle of the crescent moon on her collar clearly visible even in the light of midday.

Zecora settled in with much less fanfare, although this was because she was consciously forcing her limbs to move casually and “naturally.” Were it not for her willpower, she feared that her body would be shaking and having difficulty obeying even simple commands.

There were several false starts to the conversation as they both moved to speak at the same time. At the third or fourth attempt, Luna's voice finally found her.

“Tell me what happened at the lake,” she demanded.

“Before we speak of the past,” Zecora said, her eyes pointedly glancing at Luna's wounds, “we should heal you quite fast.”

“My body is well!” She stamped on the ground. “Answer me. The only wound thou canst help me heal is the cut of suspicion that I have been deceived by thee.”

“I have kept some things obscured,” said the zebra, turning her face away. “But not out of malice, be assured.”

“Assume I am not assured.” Luna took several strained steps forward. “Assure me now.”

Zecora inhaled deeply, then very slowly exhaled. “When you sank to the lake's floor, I found you drowning before a strange door. It was wide open to the tide, yet very dry inside. I pulled you tight, then swam to its soft light.”

“Hold,” Luna interrupted. “Before then, didst thou see my apprentice, Thin Mint? Were there other corpses of ponies nearby?”

She nodded. “All lay dead, silent on the water's bed.”

Luna's steely gaze wavered for a moment, but she motioned for the story to continue.

“The cavern glowed like the moon, and out of smooth white stone it was hewn. There were three shapes ahead, and they filled me with dread. No less fearsome were their voices, which spoke darkly of future choices.”

“Were they ponies?” Luna began moving closer, and Zecora indicated that they were. “Didst thou learn their names?” Luna was close enough that Zecora could see her eyes getting wider, more desperate. The zebra shook her head. “What did they look like?” Luna's breath was hoarse and hot on Zecora's coat.

“They were mystically masked, so I cannot answer what you asked.”

Luna stood still for a second, then deflated. She slumped to the ground at Zecora's feet, grit her teeth, and shut her eyes. “Tell me what they said to thee,” she grunted as she let the fresh pain of her injuries wash the memories from her mind.

“They were expecting the Princess of the Moon, but you had come too soon,” Zecora said, taking a couple steps backwards. “Academicians, they said they were, and great power I could infer. Among them Mint was numbered, but by her death, they did not seem encumbered. They told me to take you away. They would send a signal when I was to cease delay. Having seen what only one had done to you, challenging them was something I feared to do.”

“What did they sound like?” Luna sat still. “Were they young, old? Male, female? Were they angry, hateful, disappointed? Tell me something...”

“They were a stallion and two mares, and it was difficult to decipher their airs. If I had to guess, there was some joy in their address. Perhaps slightly surly, but only because you were there too early.”

“They were happy to see me?” There was a hopeful, guilty crack in Luna's question. She shook her head violently, then spoke to Zecora again. “What was this signal thou spokest of?”

“I am very sorry, but they did not tell me. They said that one as wise as I should often look to the sky.”

“Thou must take me to them before that happens,” Luna said, her eyes fluttering open into a steady glare at the rock beneath her feet. “I need to see them. If more ponies from my Academy do indeed yet live, then we are all in dire peril.”

“There is no need for such haste,” said Zecora. “Given time to prepare, why put it to waste?”

“There again is that foul taste,” Luna's angry stare traveled up to meet Zecora's eyes. “Thy questioning of me. Pray tell, before what happened at the lake, why didst thou bother to follow me at all?”

“Do you want to hear that now,” Zecora replied hesitantly, “with much else already furrowing your brow?”

“I do not want it. I need it now. I love thee, and I cannot bear such deceit from thee any longer!” Luna felt a huge pit open in her stomach when she realized what she had just said, and the pit grew wider when she realized that it was too late to take it back.

Zecora did not seem fazed. Increasing Luna's frustration even further, her companion seemed more calm than ever.

“There are many reasons,” Zecora spoke softly, sitting down so that her face was level with Luna's, “and to list them all would take seasons. First, I am drawn to those with power. Though sometimes that can turn sour.” She raised a hoof to her neck, running it along the golden rings that once again obscured the deep scarring that the use of her enchanted masks caused. “It is also true that I grew on tales of you. Some were dark, of course, but even in the worst you had such magnetic force. By long rote, I even learned tales you wrote. Warriors whose great, pure love made them blessed, those are the ones I remember best. Then I saw you in the flesh, and that wonder became fresh.”

Zecora's heart was beating quickly, and blood was rushing to her cheeks. She forced herself to continue anyway. “In many ways, you're intriguing, if you take my meaning.” She paused, trying not to fidget as she awaited Luna's reaction.

“Art thou saying thou hast romantic feelings for me?” Luna questioned flatly.

“I would perhaps not protest, but that does not describe it best. Or maybe it does come thence, if you mean it in a classic sense. Inspired by your great glory, I want to do things worthy of your story. Maybe then you would deign to look upon me the same.”

“I believe I know well that flame,” said Princess Luna. “I was often alone for great periods of time even before I was imprisoned in the moon. At times that it became too heavy a burden to bear, my heart would often reach out for the first warm embrace that would have it. With such loneliness and desperation, so too comes vulnerability. It is most unwise to even contemplate such things so soon, when one has been by oneself for one thousand years—or for twenty. I was a fool to open up, and thou wouldst be the same.”

“Oh, is that the deal?” Zecora's emotions got the better of her serene exterior, and she scowled. “Are you saying my feelings aren't real?”

“I am saying that thy feelings, whatever they may be, could possibly have been exaggerated by two decades of solitude and an overactive imagination.”

“What an atrocious intimation,” Zecora protested, unconsciously rhyming her last word with what Luna had said.

“I only suggest it because I have felt it too!” Luna defended herself. “And probably much more keenly as well. Be offended if thou must, but remember that I am no little foal for thou to speak down to. I have much wisdom of my own to offer, if thou wouldst but listen.”

“Well, I am listening now,” Zecora said, pulling her face back to a neutral expression. Still, Luna had been around her long enough to be able to make out the pain and anger in her eyes. “If you have any truths to avow.”

“Now that thou dost mention it...” Luna trailed off, frowning and searching what little of the sky she could see from beneath their hideout. Zecora waited patiently for several minutes while Luna sat in deep contemplation.

“It is interesting that thou shouldst mention my stories now,” she said, gazing at the distant crags of the mountains, “when I was beginning to believe that such a path may be what is best for thee. It could help thee, easing thy guilt, smoothing the path to thy future, but it is not purely a gift, and so I have been hesitant to mention it. But after thy words moments ago, I must ask now. If one is to base one's life around a story, then one must take great care to ensure that it is a virtuous story. Such faith hath changed many lives in my time, and it could change thine as well. But there is a code that must be followed. Wilt thou hear it?”

“I already follow a code, though I do question the road.” Zecora cocked her head to the side. “Let me hear the words plain, then I can choose for which to strain.”

Luna stood up. She cleared her throat, and a magical effect not unlike a quiet version of the Royal Canterlot Voice accompanied her recitation. Instead of projecting far into physical space, the words dove deep into spiritual space, as if it were Zecora's own inner voice speaking them as well.

“Lorsque la lune se lève prochaine, je chevaucherai pour combattre au noms de mon amis et gens.
Tant qu'un souffle m'animera, les terres qui sous me pieds seront préservées du mal.
Aucun obstacle ne me retiendra, aucun appel à l'aide ne m'échappera.
La nouvelle lune ne me surprendra jamais deux fois en un même lieu.
Je me donne coeur, corps, et âme à la sainteté que je cherche: l'honnêteté, la loyauté, le rire, la générosité, la bonté, la magie.
Tous ces sont très excellent, mais la vertu la plus importante est de les inspirer dans d'autres.
À cette fin, L'Honneur est tout. Au moyen de la Chevalerie, je seras devenu L'Honneur.

Zecora only knew the basics of Griffonçais, but she understood the speech perfectly.

When next rises the moon, I shall go forth to fight in the name of my friends and kin.
Whilst I draw breath, the land beneath my feet will remain untainted by evil.
No obstacle will stand before me.
No plea for help will find me wanting.
No new moon will look upon me twice lest I be judged idle.
I give my body, heart and soul to the sanctity which I seek: honor, loyalty, laughter, generosity, kindness, magic.
All are great, but the most important virtue is to inspire them in others.
For this, Honour is everything. Through Chivalry, I shall become Honour.

"It is lovely, but unclear," Zecora remarked. "What is this honor you hold so dear?"

“One fasts for a full cycle of day and night, then speaks this vow the following dawn.” Luna's tone took on a very slight bombastic quality, while she closed her eyes with a hint of haughtiness. “Afterward, one spends the day in contemplation of exactly that meaning, while keeping vigil over the castle. The vigil is over when the moon rises again...” She opened her eyes quickly when she remembered something. “But of course, because I no longer precisely have a castle, we would have to find something of equal worth for thou to stand in guard of.”

“It gives some food for thought,” said Zecora, scratching her chin, “but I may be too old to be taught.”

“Nonsense.” Luna dismissed the idea with a wave of her hoof. “I devised it when I was well beyond six hundred years of age.”

“I am not quite that old,” Zecora said with a throaty chuckle that broke through all of the remaining layers of tension in the air at once, “and not yet an ugly sight to behold.”

Luna smiled with enough warmth that its combination with her bloodied, pain-wracked body was not overly-terrifying. “If I may ask, what code dost thou uphold?” She raised her brow at herself when she realized she had just rhymed with her companion—and not for the first time, either.

“It has fewer pretty lines of verse,” the zebra replied, “which makes it much easier to rehearse. 'All in life you do, comes back tenfold to you.' The general thrust is to behave like the world is just. Whether it is or not, that is what I was taught.”

“There is a great deal of merit to the idea,” Luna said. “I have encountered creeds that gave me much more pause. But what does one do when one's own deeds have been unjust?”

“That, I am still learning.” Zecora sighed, reflecting on her powers and the things she had done to acquire them. “The cycle of karma is ever turning...”

Luna's gaze softened, and she came close to reaching out to touch her friend. Instead, she searched the sky for a few moments, and she was surprised that she didn't detect any movement on the horizon. “Hmm,” she continued. “Whilst thou thinkest of my offer, there is a middle path I should like to try. Thou art familiar with the concept of guided meditation, I assume?” Zecora said she was. “Then I have an idea that could help us both. When I was attuned to the Elements of Harmony, I regularly took my fellow chevaliers along mystical reflections upon their nature. ‘Twas often a profound experience which made us all closer. I have not tried it since I lost my connection to the Elements, but that should only intrigue thee more, yes?” She grinned.

“I must agree,” Zecora said, trying not to sound too eager, “if it can be done safely.”

“'Tis perfectly safe by itself. Yet, I think now is not the correct moment. It would not do to be disturbed.”

“Yes, I too would be perturbed if our inward search were curbed.”

“I dare say we have been around each other too long,” said Luna, laughing and shaking her head.

Both of them stopped speaking and sat in silence under their rocky shelter. Each searching one another's eyes, they attempted to resume the conversation as it had begun, with awkward false starts. This time, however, instead of one voice finally forging ahead, the silence was broken by a huge, guttural roar from the east.

Peeking out from under the outcropping of rock, Luna was momentarily stunned to see the massive, bulky silhouette of Oracle himself flying toward them. Other, smaller shapes had joined in a formation around him. There looked to be six of them, three younger dragons, and three griffons. She pulled her head back in.

“It pains me to even think this,” she told Zecora, “but we must stay under here to hide. With what I have learned today, it is paramount that we make it back to Equestria safely. Curse this day!” She fidgeted and scratched violently at the earth as the flight drew closer and closer.

Zecora, meanwhile, was deeply regretting that she had stored most of her supplies in the cache they had hidden before climbing up the mountain. Still, she took a quick inventory of the few potions she had at her sides, and concluded they would be at least enough to escape. Then there was the mask of Aquitaine, but... She shivered and hunkered down, following Luna's advice to hide, for now.

The three other dragons with the ancient prophet were, as Luna expected, his son Alexios, and the seconds he had brought with him for their duel. She did not recognize the griffons. They were dressed in ruffled, bejeweled, white blouses, and each wore a blade at their hip. Nobility.

“You are certain she went this way?” asked one of the griffons, a female with the severe, determined air of a matriarch. A family crest showing two crossed keys on a red field was sewn into the shoulder of her shirt. It was not a device Luna recognized, but she doubted there were many noble houses left over from a thousand years ago. The griffons, and all the dragons except Oracle, landed alongside her. The elder dragon continued circling overhead.

“Yes, Lady Adelaide,” said Alexios. “But if she is now a griffon, as you said, she could be far away by now.”

“She is not a griffon,” she said. “She is merely playing at being one. She can't have gone far. According to her accomplice, she can't safely wear my sister's face for long enough to cross these mountains. No, I think she is hiding.”

Luna took a long, hard look at Zecora, who was crouching low and appeared to be trying to crouch lower. Her ears were flat, her entire body was still, and her eyes were fixated on the ground. She looked up in surprise when she felt Luna's hoof gently stroking her shoulder.

Luna's eyes widened suddenly. She put up a quick barrier spell as the rock they were hiding under was ripped from the ground. They were left staring up at Oracle's form looming in the air above them, nearly blotting out the sun with his bulk.

“Princess Luna?” he said in shock. “What are you—oh dear! Did you lose your duel with my son? You look awful!”

“It's the zebra!” The trio of griffons screeched and drew their blades. They started to advance, but they slowed upon seeing Luna, and a look from the dragon stopped them completely.

“Did thy son not tell thee of our duel?” Luna asked, thoroughly confused. “Art thou and thy party not searching for me?”

“No, should we be?” Oracle set the rock in his claws down, then came to a landing on the plateau, most of which he now occupied. “We're looking for that zebra behind you.” He turned his slitted eyes toward Zecora, looking her over with a heavy frown. “Are you going to come quietly?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Luna demanded. “Zecora is our companion and an honorary citizen of Equestria besides. She goes nowhere.”

“She is a liar, a murderer, and a necromancer,” the griffon matriarch Adelaide growled. “Are you aware of her crimes, honored Princess? I can't believe Equestria would not extradite such a villain if so.”

“We are aware of some terrible deeds she has committed,” said Luna, “which were two decades ago. She is here to atone, and we are keeping a personal eye upon her until we have judged the matter.”

“If I may speak,” Zecora said directly to Adelaide, “I am she whom you seek. What is it you are here to do, now that your search is through?”

“To put you on trial for the killing of my sister, Aquitaine, in the city of Timbucktu. Which was, as the Princess wisely reminds us, twenty years ago, but some faces stay fresh in the memories of us mere mortals for quite some time. I did not expect to see you in the Lost Valley yesterday, but I am not about to let the opportunity slip by me. So, as our esteemed friend the prophet asked, are you going to come quietly?”

“If I am found guilty,” she said, “what is the penalty?”

“Execution.”

“Ah.” Zecora shook her head. “Then I will absolutely not. I may be found, but I am not caught.” She stood there firmly, almost as amazed by her defiance than the others around her were.

“What!?” the griffon yelled. “Then you will die where you stand, monster!”

She charged forward, only to find Princess Luna's body in the way, her wings, mane, and tail spreading majestically and protectively around her. Luna swatted the rapier aside with one leg with a force that sent it and its wielder sprawling in two different directions.

“Not another step!” Luna commanded, her powerful voice echoing all around them. The griffons who had moved to join the coming fight froze. The dragons, she noted with interest, had not moved in the first place.

“Let me finish, if you please,” Zecora said. Luna watched, stunned, as she strode in front of her, mere paces away from the griffons. “Even if it won't appease. I have been seeking a way to give her soul a place to lay. As Isra should have said, destroying the mask will not calm the dead. I know you see me with disdain, but your sister is not in pain. When I have finished helping Luna with her quest, I will do my utmost to put her to rest.”

“How dare you try to comfort me,” the sister said. “You are sick, and I pray whatever journey you are on puts your diseased mind in the dirt. Give me that horrible mask, and we will solve the problem ourselves.”

“Do you know better what can be done than do the rulers of the moon and sun?”

“Listen well to our words,” Luna pronounced, hushing everyone present, “for we know what true darkness is better than all of you. Zecora is not it. She has confessed her mistakes, and she now seeks to do right. Anyone can change, and it is a great crime to deny that possibility forever with talk of vengeance and death.”

“The dead cannot change, Your Highness,” Adelaide said slowly, standing up and walking over to where her sword fell. She replaced it in her scabbard.

“To whom dost thou presume to speak?” Luna answered with a dark flash in her eyes. “That is exactly our point.”

“Well,” Oracle chimed in as the three griffons and the two equines stood off against each other. “It seems we will have something of a diplomatic incident on our appendages if you wish to pursue this path, Lady Adelaide. I am truly sorry, but I can't be part of that.”

“I already knew that,” she told him, her voice dripping with disgust. She faced Zecora again. “Fine. Go and hide behind the flanks of your pony Princesses. Aquitaine's spirit can wait, and so can I. At the very least, I have been able to bring your accomplice to justice.”

“Is my former mentor dead?” asked Zecora with surprise. “I have heard nothing since I fled.”

The griffon noble smirked. “That's funny. He said you were his master.” She spread her wings. “I leave you to contemplate his fate. And I am sorry to have met you under circumstances such as these, Princess Luna.” She tipped her head respectfully, to which she received nothing but stony silence, and her group flew away into the sky.

“I hope you understand that I can't have your friend coming back to the valley, either,” said Oracle, stroking one of his tendrils.

Luna looked at him blankly, then over at Alexios, who was staring at her with a mixture of fear and hatred she remembered all too well.

“It is best that I not return either,” she said quietly. “I broke my vow to thee.” The eyes of the old dragon grew almost as wide as those of the younger ones. “In our duel—”

“I lost, father,” the son interrupted hastily. “She just cast a healing spell on me after the battle. That's all.” His seconds agreed that that was all.

“That is quite noble of you, Princess Luna. Why—”

“I am not finished. I did cast a healing spell upon him, but that is because he would have died if I had not. The duel was not to the death, yet I attempted to kill him. I broke the terms, and I broke my word. I have disgraced my name and my honor. Thou shalt not see me again.”

Oracle sat utterly still for several moments, his gigantic eyes boring into Luna's. “I pray that I do not, for the sake of both of us,” he said in a heartbroken tone. With a mighty gust from his wings, he lifted himself into the air again. “You two make quite a pair...” he said in an enigmatic monotone, then departed toward his cave.

The look from Alexios before he followed was full of even more fear and hate than before. Luna kept her face expressionless, looking firmly at him the whole time. With a tense silence, she watched them fly back into the mountains. When they were finally out of her sight, she turned to Zecora, who had been watching her in the same way. She stuttered for a moment in surprise.

“A-Art thou prepared to meditate?” Luna inquired. “I believe that it would be quite beneficial to both of us to do so after that experience.”

Zecora took the mask they had been speaking of earlier from a strap on her back. She stared hard at the wooden, painted artifact with the beak and array of white and black feathers sticking out of it. Her expression was an enigma even to Luna. “Yes,” she said softly.

“Excellent,” said Luna. “Put that aside for now, please.” She pointed toward the mask, and Zecora set it down with reverence and sorrow. “I suspect that what thou hast told me today is not the entire truth, and I do not mean to impugn thee by saying so. I understand better than nearly anyone in this world the many and important reasons one can choose to keep secrets. As thou didst just see, telling the truth can sometimes lead to great detriment. But it is yet the right path, because virtue makes us strong. Today hath been some small measure of progress for us both, and I am extremely grateful for it. In honor of the occasion, let us reflect first upon the Element of Honesty.”

Luna sat on her rear and folded her hind legs inward so that her hooves were touching. She brought her forelegs together in the same manner. Zecora assumed the same upright pose opposite her.

“Follow my voice, Zecora, and see with my eyes as I gaze upon Harmony itself.” She spoke with the same enchanted voice that she had used with the chivalric vows earlier. Gradually, with each gentle but piercing word, she felt a mystical string sliding out of her heart, going in search of something. She fought a brief moment of panic, but let it go when she remembered that that was how some of her friends had described the experience, far in the past. Zecora's eyes seemed to register the same sequence of events from panic to calm.

The mystical cord touched something vast and magnificent, and then everything about Luna's surroundings vanished, from the sight of the sky, to the feel of the rock, to the warmth of the air. She experienced absolutely nothing, at first. Then she spoke into the darkness as, one by one, sensations returned to her, completely different from the ones she had left behind.

“I am confined in darkness,” Luna said in a cool, deep tone. “My form is large, and my prison is small. It is hard, but also nurturing. I know that it is protecting me. Yet I yearn for freedom. Bits and pieces of my true self poke at it, trying to find a way out. I can not tell how long it takes, but eventually a shard of the shell breaks off.

“I stretch out into the new world. It is solid but granular, like soil. It is brighter, but still dark. It is still nurturing, but out here there is nothing to protect me. I stretch further, and more and more pieces of my self follow me out of the prison. I shudder and cry as things in the dark deplete me, eating my body even in this, my most vulnerable of states. Other things take my food without a thought toward me. Some of my self starves, but most of it lives. I and all of my fellows who left our dark protector mourn, but we also rejoice, because we are one, and as one, we go upwards. Toward the air, toward the light.

“We burst through the earth, and we are greeted by the smile of the sun. The wind caresses us. Clouds come from far and wide to cry tears upon us. Are they tears of joy or of sorrow? They feed us all the same, and we grow, finally stretching out and up. Becoming our true size.

“Finally, we can grow no more. We are so tall, the sun is so warm, the earth is so cool. We tower over our brothers and sisters, and we can see the vast, green country rolling outward in all directions. It is perfect.

“It is so perfect that the clouds come again, and they urge us to grow still more. That energy, with nowhere else to go, sprouts all over our body, yielding buds of flowers and fruits. So small at first, but like us, there are other, truer selves locked inside them, which are at once us and not-us. They grow as well. We watch them, we feel them, and we are so proud and happy. But then they feel an emotion we too once felt, lifetimes ago. The desire for freedom.

“We cling to them. They are too small. They will be eaten. They will not get to grow to their true size. They weigh upon us heavily, until finally we have no choice but to let them fall. We are pulled down to the earth with them, as we become one of them and are locked back inside another prison. This time, we admonish ourselves for calling it a prison. This is merely another turn of a vast, silent wheel. We wait.”

The string of her soul that had left her coiled back into place, and Luna opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Zecora opening her eyes at the same time, followed by a smile full of wonder—and love. She sat up abruptly when the third thing she noticed was that it was already night, and the stars had come out. Are they twinkling in Zecora's eyes, she asked inwardly, or are those tears? Is there a difference anymore? Why am I wondering about that first, and not how long the meditation took?

Princess Luna swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry, and she had not yet raised the moon. Water, then her royal duty. Everything else could wait. She went in search of the gear that she had cast her illusion spell on the previous night, with Zecora following her silently. Once the spell was undone, she pulled forth one of the canteens of water from their packs. It was nearly at her lips when she stopped herself, remembering a night that seemed so long ago now: the night that they had met. She turned to Zecora and held it out, offering the first sip to her. Zecora held it with slightly trembling hooves, but she took a gulp without spilling any, then offered it back. They passed the water back and forth in deep silence, while a brilliant white moon rose from the horizon to their side.

Author's Notes:

There are a lot of things I should note, but the one that immediately springs to mind is: if you actually know French, I'm sorry. :P