Arthur’s Journal: Equestria Entry #1

From the moment my last breath escaped me along the mountaintop, my new life began. Had anyone told me exactly the kind of things I’d see, the enemies I’d make, and the friends who’d stick by, I’d have put them out of their insanity with two in the head. But then again, maybe I should be thanking them. For little did I know, dying on that mountain top may have been the damn near best thing that’s ever happened to me.

And it all began with the Shaman…

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Drifting between the seemingly endless void, between life and death, nothing before looked quite so beautiful. A grassy meadow bathed in golden light, as a gentle breeze drifted through the air, made the atmosphere ever so peaceful. The only inhabitants of said meadow was a lone white tailed buck leaned down to partake in the beautiful glade and a certain decease gunslinger.

Arthur didn’t want to believe this is what he was actually seeing. He didn’t truly believe he deserved to see something so beautiful. No matter what manner of good deeds he’s done, or the countless lives he saved, he never truly believed himself to be a good man. All he considered himself to be was a gunslinger, a robber, a heartless bastard who deserved nothing but pain.

Sensing another presence, the buck lifted its head from the grass and stared directly in the eyes of Arthur Morgan. The man had seen this very same buck before in his dreams, right after discovering his Tuberculosis. Strangely enough, the buck didn’t seem to fear him as most others would. Instead, it simply looked at him as though he were a friend or companion.

“Your life has not yet ended Arthur Morgan; in fact, it’s merely just begun.”

Amazed and confused, Arthur stared upon the buck that seemed to have spoken to him. But he didn’t have time to question the creature, as the buck turned its head and slowly walked off over the glen towards the blinding light. Arthur decided to follow the buck, seeing as he had nowhere else to go. Before too long, he too was consumed by the blinding golden radiance.

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Arthur’s eyes shot open, as he gasped greatly for air. He laid out upon the cold hard ground, staring straight into the air. Taking deep shallow breaths, Arthur slowly sat up on the palms of his hands and looked around toward his surroundings. Nothing but dark trees surrounded him, and he heard nothing but the faint chirping of birds. This made no sense to him, seeing as how he died on the mountaintop overlooking the rising sun. He shook his head at the memory of drawing his final breath on that mountain and figured this must be hell.

“Damn!” He cursed under his breath. “Ah knew it was only a matter of time ‘fore I ended up here.”

Slowly lifting himself back onto his legs, Arthur scoped the landscape he now resided in. If this truly was hell, it certainly didn’t look the way he had grown up hearing about. No fires with dancing demons nor even the damn devil laughing at his eternal pain and misery. A sudden, violent coughing fit made Arthur forget these thoughts and instead focus on finding his way out of the forest.

“Seems ah can’t escape this God damn disease,” Arthur groaned. “Not even in death.”

He found his weapon bag, with all his supplies just a few inches away. Holstering them to his side, slinging them over his shoulders, he proceeds to walk through the thick foliage. Having spent most of his life camping in the wilderness, it wasn’t hard for Arthur to navigate his way through the forest. The problem was all the coughing and the blood he was spitting out. Whether he was truly dead or not, he needed to find some manner of medical help.

Stumbling his way through the trees, Arthur eventually came to a stop and rested upon a large oak tree, to catch both his balance and his breath. For he knew the longer he kept this up, the more difficult it would become to function properly. Leaning against the tree, Arthur soon noticed another tree not far from him except this looked as if it had been fashioned into a house of sorts. He didn’t know what to make of this or even why someone would want to live in a tree. But at the moment, it didn’t really matter. Pushing off the tree, Arthur trudged up toward the door of the house and knocked loudly.

“Hey!” He yelled. “Anyone in there!”

No response came, so he knocked more violently.

“Ah ain’t gonna hurt nobody! Ah just need help.”

Once again, no response came, and Arthur could feel another violent coughing fit quickly approach. He hunched over, coughing more blood before eventually toppling over and gasping for air once more. As he vision began to fade, he thought he could see the outline of a strange quadruped creature wearing a cloak slowly approach him. Soon his vision left him entirely, as he slipped into unconscious.

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Next thing Arthur Morgan could comprehend, his eyes slowly opened, and his vision was blurry as hell. He couldn’t make out any shape or form of anything around him, but one thing he knew was that he was no longer outside. He wasn’t even laying on the ground anymore; instead, he laid along a comfortable bed that was soft yet sturdy at the same time. It certainly paled in comparison to any hotel bed or bedroll he’d ever slept on from Strawberry to Annesburg.

He groaned as he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes trying to get his vision back so he could see exactly where he was. When his vision finally came back, he searched around the area. He appeared to be in a room of sorts, where many strange things hung from the ceiling. So many bizarre masks resided along the walls, resembling from those of some African tribe he’d heard tales about in Saint Dennis. The thing that caught his attention most was the giant cauldron sitting over a blazing fire sitting in the middle of the room.

“Arthur, where the hell did you end up now?” He thought to himself.

“To move about so suddenly would not be best. It would be better for you to lay back and rest.”

Arthur’s head snapped to the side of the room toward the strange voice. Some strange figure of sorts stood in the corner completely shrouded in darkness. Arthur instinctively reached for his weapons, only to find out that they were no longer holstered to his side. He turned back toward the figure; a confused look plastered on his face.

“Where the hell am I?” Arthur asked.

“In my humble abode do you now reside,” The figure responded. “After I found you unconscious outside.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes toward the figure, trying to see if he could make out what they look like.

“Why don’t you come on out here?” He gestured. “I got a much better time talking to folks when I can see their faces.”

The figure in question slowly started walking towards the light of the fire, as its form soon began to show. The figure turned out to be a zebra of sorts, with a mohawk-style mane and stripes in various parts of its body. It also had an assortment of golden rings around its neck and foreleg, as well as two golden earrings dangling from its ears. The zebra bowed its head to Arthur with a smile along its muzzle.

One look and Arthur fell back onto the bed with a groan, covering his face with his hand.

“God dammit!” He cursed. “First Tuberculosis takes away whatever sort of life ah got lef; now ah’ve gone crazy!”

The zebra giggled before slowly making her way over to the side of the bed.

“Insane you are not stranger, for it is quite true,” She assured. “I am indeed the one that is speaking to you.”

Arthur slowly removed his hands from his face, before sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He scratched the heavy stubble on his face as he shook his head in disbelief.

“All ah’m missin’ now is Alice and the white rabbit,” He spoke begrudgingly, to himself. “Ah’ll be mad as a hatter then.”

“Why is it so hard to believe when you can plainly see?” The zebra asked. “Is it indeed true you are talking to me?”

“Cuz where ah’m from, horses don’t go talkin’ back to yah.”

Arthur then let out a chuckle, as he shook his head again.

“Now ah’m actually talkin’ to the damn zebra! If only John and Uncle could see me now.”

The zebra merely shrugged to herself before approaching the large cauldron, using her hoof to lift a large spoon and stir the contents.

“You know stranger, I’ve traveled Equestria through and through. But I have never seen an odd creature quite like you.”

Arthur couldn’t help but laugh weakly toward himself, that the talking zebra is the one who just called him odd.

“Well, ah can say the same thing about talking zebras,” Arthur shot back.

“You know calling you stranger is becoming a tiresome game. How about if I tell you mine, then you tell me your name?”

Arthur thought for a moment, as he stroked his heavily dribbled chin. Should he tell this zebra his name? It could very well mean signing his own death warrant if the police found out. Then he remembered he was sitting in a house-tree and talking to a zebra. Either he was hallucinating, or he was truly in hell. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

“Names Arthur Morgan, ma’am,” Arthur greeted.

He stuck out his hand toward the zebra, who only stared at the strange appendage curiously. Never before had she seen anything quite like it before and she was completely unaware of what to do.

“Ain’t you never heard of a handshake before?” Arthur asked.

The zebra stared upon the man’s outstretched hand before slowly lifting one of her hooves off the floor and gently placed it into his hand. Arthur shook lightly, as the zebra actually smiled over the tiny gesture.

“Now that ah told you my name, it’s only fair ah get yours in return,” Arthur spoke up.

The zebra nodded, pulling her hoof back and stood upon all fours again.

“A pleasure to meet you Arthur Morgan, that much I can say. You may call me Zecora, who saved your life on this day.”

“What do you mean ‘saved my life’?” Arthur asked.

“When you fell outside my home, you were pale and gravely sick,” Zecora responded. “I brought you inside and crafted a potion that did the trick.”

Arthur just held his hand over his forehead, shaking his head. He heard so much rhyming out of this zebra today and it was quickly getting on his nerves.

“Is there a way you can tell me what the hell happened without having to rhyme?” Arthur asked seriously.

Zebra giggled, as she returned toward the cauldron. She grabbed a small ladle in her teeth and scooped some of its contents into a small vial.

“From your gasping for breath and your pale appearance, this I was able to deduce. That you had a terrible sickness I needed to reduce.”

Again Arthur groaned, the constant rhyming this silly zebra constantly had to do each time she spoke drove him crazy.

“Well, you wasted your time lady,” He sighed. “Ain’t no doctor been able to find a cure for Tuberculosis.”

“Finding a cure was not hard to offer you relief, feast your eyes upon this and quench your belief.”

Zecora walked forward with the vial between her teeth. She released it onto Arthur’s open hand and the cowboy just looked at it.

“Just what exactly is this?” He asked.

“Simply drink this liquid and your ailment will cease,” Zecora answered. “This will finally offer you much needed sickness release.”

Arthur gazed at the vial in his hand, his mind raced with many different thoughts. Should he drink it or should he not? Could he truly trust this zebra he just met? Why would she want to help him of all people? Feeling a violent surge of coughing coming on, his decision quickly became easier.

Arthur uncorked the vial and drank the entire contents in one swig. The moment the liquid began to flow down his throat, he could immediately feel a change. The color began to return to his body, his violent coughing ceased altogether, and he could finally breathe easily again. He hadn’t felt this good since the first time he and the rest of the crew settled at Horseshoe Overlook near Valentine.

Turning toward Zecora, Arthur had a dumbfounded look on his face.

“How?” He asked in disbelief. “How were you able to do what no doctor in the world could do?”

“My medicines are strange Mr. Morgan, but they bring forth good will,” Zecora smiled. “This potion has driven the ailment from your being, so you’ll never again grow ill.”

Arthur slowly approached Zecora, falling to his knees before the zebra. Without thinking about his actions, he wrapped his arms around the zebra with a hug.

“Thank you, Zecora,” He said thankfully.

Zecora patted his back with her hoof, as he pulled away.

“Now if you don’t mind me asking, just what did you do with all my stuff?”

“You needn’t worry dear Arthur, your effects I shall return to you,” Zecora assured. “I kept them safe in my room until you came to.”

Zecora trotted off to another room, before returning with Arthur’s bag and weapons draped over her back. Arthur grabbed his rifle and bow, slinging them over his shoulder. Then he holstered his pistol and revolver to his sides. He grabbed his bag and looked down at Zecora.

“Before ah go, ah just wanna thank you for what you’ve done fer me. Ain’t a whole lot of folk who would do what you did for a man like me.”

“You need not thank me Arthur, it is the least I could do,” Zecora assured. “I would gladly do it again for a good soul like you.”

Arthur turned toward the door of Zecora’s hut but stopped just before opening it. He turns back toward Zecora one last time.

“Ah ain’t no good man, Zecora. I’ve done terrible things in my life. But I thank you still for saving my useless life.”

With that said, Arthur pulled the door open and closed it behind him as he left. Zecora stood there looking after the strange man in confusion. How could he not think himself as good?”

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Fully revamped and better than ever, Arthur Morgan strolled through the dark forest in search for a place to stay. True, he could have stayed with Zecore for the time being. But he didn’t wish to burden her nor put her at risk for harboring a dangerous outlaw like him. He’s only known the strange zebra for a short time, but she had been more kind to him than most people have ever been.

After an hour of walking, Arthur finally felt the fatigue of walking for so long. How he wished he still had Serena with him. Thinking of his fallen mare made the gunslinger close his eyes, remember his beloved horse. She had been with him through thick and thin; she helped him escape the law, catch bounties, and even rob trains. Now that his horse was gone, it felt like a big part of his soul was missing.

Finally, he came upon something that brought him a sense of relief. Nestled in a small clearing, in the endless amount of dark trees, was a small log cabin. If it weren’t in use, surely it would provide him some decent shelter. Crouching so as not to be seen, Arthur slowly crept towards the cabin. He peeked through the tiny window to see if anyone currently occupied the small dwelling. But the complete lack of light made it difficult to see inside. Arthur knew he’d have to go inside to make completely sure it was empty.

Pulling out his revolver, Arthur crept toward the door and slowly opened it. Entering the cabin, he checked every square inch of the property before confirming it was indeed empty.

“Looks like I’ve found myself a place to stay,” Arthur said to himself.

There was a fireplace connected to a stone chimney and thankfully there was firewood at the ready. Reaching into his bag, Arthur pulled out a box of matches and lit one before throwing it into the fireplace. Pulling out a few old bounty posters he collected, he proceeds to rip them for kindling. Before too long, there was a roaring flame to keep him warm.

Arthur sat alongside the fire, pulling out the bedroll he thankfully was able to grab off Serena before he and John ran from the Pinkertons. He laid the bedroll out alongside the fire, lying down to get himself comfortable. Just as the fatigue proved too much to handle and sleep began to overtake him, one thing crossed Arthur’s mind.

“Regardless if this hell or a hallucination, this is my reality now.”