Moondancer felt the rush of embarrassment reach her cheeks. Zecora had repeated her question twice now and Moondancer still didn't understand. "I swear, I'm not this dense!" she told Zecora. "It must be the lack of sleep. Or the long hours I spent helping Twilight. Or the—" she rambled on for a bit before realizing it. Zecora sat across the cauldron, smiling politely. "Sorry," Moondancer halted her slew of words. "Your way of, um, speaking, it's going to take some getting used to." After her small upset at the castle, she added, "Not that it's weird or unnatural or anything, or—" She stopped herself. "Sorry." What was wrong with her? She usually didn't apologize this much, or talk this much for that matter.

Canterlot's libraries had a vast amount of books on the various pony and pony-like species, but less so on zebras. The only thing she remembered of zebras was that they were white with black stripes. Yet Zecora rhythmically denied it, stating the opposite.

"Your first reactions to a zebra are quite routine. Trust me when I say your questions are not obscene." Zecora was right. Most ponies had never met a zebra—let alone knew they existed. Only a few years ago, Moondancer had learned that Yakyakistan and the yaks were real. All thanks to an alliance between Equestria and the hairy nation. But she hadn't met a yak in person, so her assumption was justified. Twilight and her friends really could befriend even the most remote creatures it seemed. "You can release your fear so long as you visit here."

Moondancer nodded, intent on following along this time. Before she could think of something to follow it up with, she blurted out another question. "Why do you talk like that?" As soon as she said it, she slapped her hooves over her mouth. "Sorry."

Zecora let out a deep laugh. "Not often do ponies ask why straight out. Yet it's a common question, do not pout." Though everything remained a rhyme, Moondancer did her best to follow along. "I follow the old ways of my ancestors' days," she began. "My clan holds our rhythmic nature dear to our hearts, for myself, it is not the sum but the whole of my parts. But not every clan is the same for each play a different game. Zecora does come from zebras who rhyme while another zebra may be of the mime." Moondancer understood though the question remained as to why Zecora followed that tradition. Zecora gave a knowing smile, and then added, "But I am alone here—why do I not slack? It would be easy to speak plainly and not go back."

"Pride, I guess?" Moondancer replied, jotting down the notes on the clipboard she borrowed from Twilight's castle. "I assume it's the same reason you live—" she motioned to the interior of the home within a tree "—here?"

The innards of the tree were carved in such a way that Moondancer almost couldn't believe they'd been done with simple mixtures and hooves. All the potion work she'd done in school had fallen aside to the unicorn magic she later learned. Perhaps that's what made Zecora all the more interesting, having neither the magical talent nor the earth pony specialty to craft such a home.

Zecora had certainly filled it with her little slice of home too. Wooden art pieces shaped like faces were painted in stripes or mixtures of different colors. Unique bottles hung from the ceiling, none similar to another, and some containing mysterious liquid. Vines grew down from planters carved into the walls. Moondancer wondered how Zecora managed to reach such high plants without magic or a ladder. She thought to call the place rustic, but that wasn't quite right. With all the decor, it wasn't simple either. By comparison, Moondancer's place felt more homely than Zecora's, despite the privilege of Canterlot. Thinking about that made her remember how she'd left her home. "I forgot to clean up after those fools wrecked it," she muttered to herself. Living in a tree, away from society, where ponies couldn't interrupt your study time. It sounded quite pleasant. "Though I'd be careful of lighting candles."

As they talked of zebras and ponies, Moondancer tried to determine the key difference. If she couldn't do that, she'd have to go back to Twilight empty-hooved. "Lets we take a tangent in your ancestral direction. Do you know where zebras came from? Like what's the furthest you could go back in lineage if you had to guess?"

"Do you know from where ponies come?" Zecora answered with her own question, to which Moondancer wasn't sure. "Perhaps my kind knows more than some."

Moondancer tapped on the clipboard with her pencil, creating little lead marks. "I know the stories that date back to the founding of Equestria—when the three pony clans came together. Earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi. And I'm certain Princess Celestia and Princess Luna have more knowledge of the time before that. Oh, and Star Swirl the Bearded, along with the other Pillars. Keep forgetting they're around—I should visit them at some point." Her wings suddenly extended, pushing up her sweater and knocking the clipboard away. "Sorry! I seem to do that when I get... anxious. More anxious, I mean."

Zecora rose from her seat at the cauldron, pulling Moondancer away to a counter littered with potion ingredients. Bright blue flowers, small white stones, amber encased mosquitoes, and ordinary pinecones. Zecora pushed it all aside before pulling a stick from the opposite end. "A curious problem for a pony so strong, I will cure what ails you before long."

"You think I'm strong?" Moondancer asked, almost whispering it.

With a smile, Zecora used the long stick to reach up at the vine that wrapped around one of the potions. It contained a bright neon green liquid that looked like it would glow in the dark. Zecora needed only a swift pull for it to slide by vine down to her hoof. "With this potion, I do declare, you will be released from fear's snare."

Popping the cork, Moondancer held her nose to it, giving a good sniff. "What is this stuff?" she asked, pulling her head away from the tainted smell. "Please tell me it's an ointment." Zecora shook her head and pointed to her mouth. "Great. Cure for anxiety in a bottle? All without magic?" Moondancer examined Zecora. Twilight trusted this zebra for a potion to handle those three Masters. If Twilight trusted her, Moondancer could too. "Bottoms up," she said as she threw her head back, bottle to her mouth. It smelled awful, yet tasted like cold mint. She didn't like mint but didn't hate it either.

It took a moment of staring before her wings settled, and she could push back her sweater. "Hey! It's working! Anxiety cure in a bottle? How long does this last?"

But Zecora just laughed at the inquiry. "Now that your fear is in your past, we can settle questions you've amassed." The zebra meandered to the opposite side of the room, keeping the stick to walk. She stopped in front of the small shelving of books and tapped a green one. Moondancer levitated it off the shelf for her—the book's cloth cover held an intricate design stitched on the front. "Open and see my little pony."

A feeling returned to Moondancer. The want—the need—to learn. It reminded her of her school days, side by side with Twilight, studying magic. She flipped open the book to the front page and found it to be in a language she did not understand. "Uhh, this definitely isn't old ponish." Zecora chuckled, but Moondancer hadn't made a joke. Flipping through the pages, Moondancer stopped on one that had a drawing. It was well detailed and yet still lacked the realistic likeness of a photograph. The image showed eleven zebras raising their hooves to the sun. Some sort of séance? Ritual? It wasn't quite clear.

Zecora tapped her hoof lightly on the mysterious words beneath the image. "Keep strong, keep heart, for the sun is our start. A change occurred, a debt incurred. For the world is a riddle and we are the question, and the answer is nothing more than progression." She stopped, frowned, and then pointed at the final line. "Day was created." It did not rhyme, though Zecora's expression looked pained. Perhaps Moondancer should've saved some of that disgusting-smelling potion.

"Day was created?" Moondancer blinked. "Day was created," she repeated a few times, faster each. There was a mystery here. A real mystery. She wished she had somepony to bounce her ideas off of—one that didn't require a rhyme or riddle to reply. That's when she remembered she hadn't been alone in Twilight's choice. That awful Sunset Shimmer had been asked to tag along—she left, thankfully, back to wherever she had come from. Why had Twilight put them together? Surely, Sunset Shimmer would not have cared about this mystery. The mare was too self-absorbed. Moondancer did notice how much the conversation had been about her instead of Zecora. And the thought made Moondancer disappointed in herself.

"Sad? Why such a glum expression to your new obsession?" Zecora asked.

Moondancer diverted her eyes from Zecora's—it must've been all over her face. "Zecora, do you know anything about Sunset Shimmer? That one mare with the red and yellow hair that left?" Zecora tilted back with a brow raised, face of confusion. "Sorry," Moondancer cut in before she could answer. "Not on topic, thinking about other things." She then looked back to her clipboard, still avoiding Zecora's eyes, and noticed that she had broken the tip of her pencil. Had she felt such anger just from thinking of the rude mare?

"Not on topic you say, but sunsets end the day. A common trend between us all is where we are when the sun does fall." Zecora turned, motioning to her rump. Her cutie mark? "Not a cutie mark, I know you must think, this is how my kin and ancestors link. Clan to clan, each is different. Each of eleven is significant." That's when Moondancer noticed the not cutie mark depicted a sun. Were it not for Princess Celestia's literal control over the sun, Moondancer would've thought Zecora suggested zebras had started moving the sun.

"Wait," she stopped Zecora. She needed to get the question out before she lost it. "Who moved the sun before Princess Celestia?" That had been unicorns—or so commonly believed. "Why were their names never written down? How did they know how to move the sun?" And that's when she noticed Zecora's seemingly knowing smile. "And who moved it before..." She followed the path of logic. "Was it zebras? Zecora, did zebras move the sun before ponies?" Zecora busted out laughing. When she stopped to wipe a tear from her eye, she tapped Moondancer's horn and then pointed to her empty forehead. "Oh, no. I guess—ohhh!" Moondancer levitated the clipboard over, struck with an overload of knowledge. "I think I've got something! Day created, moving the sun, our histories connect. I've got to go back, far back."

"For that, I could brew a potion to find the answers now in motion," Zecora replied, scratching her chin.

"No!" Moondancer didn't mean to yell, but the mint in her mouth made her stomach a little queasy. "I think I'll find my own path without, um—I mean, thank you, Zecora. I've gotten on the right track thanks to you. I might have to gain an audience with Princess Celestia or Luna, or find one of the Pillars, but I've got something. I've got to find where ponies began. When the sun first moved."

Zecora grinned and bowed her head with grace. "A tricky task, your next goal, of finding a diamond in coal."

"Thank you, Zecora. I understand why Twilight trusts you so much." Moondancer stuffed the clipboard and pencil into her sweater. She bowed her head to Zecora, then headed for the door. "Oh!" With a turn, she looked back at the zebra. "I do have one more question. That potion, what did it contain? Just in case I need another—y'know, for emergencies."

Zecora rose and put both forelegs on top of her cauldron, looking deep into the bubbling liquid. "What you drank is what is here, it is nothing you should fear. The anxiety is what we call our ego," Zecora replied, and a big, white smile split her face. "For it was nothing more than a placebo."

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