The Seer of Truth

Chapter 3 – Zecora’s Secret

"Wow, Zecora!” Apple Bloom exclaimed as the image in the water faded to darkness. “You took out a soldier!? On ya own?”

“When one is truly in need,” Zecora replied. “There is much in which you can succeed.”

“And Ah didn’t know you were the best potion brewer in your home!” Apple Bloom said, still excited. “I mean, even Rarity’s dresses ain’t as popular as them potions you made, and, and you beat up a soldier using your powder stuff! You must be the best potion brewer evah!”

Zecora smiled at Apple Bloom’s excited compliments. “That may very well be,” she admitted. “But I can do things that none should see. And so I have limited my fame and the spread of my name.”

“You don’t wanna be famous?” Apple Bloom asked and cocked her head. “Why’s that?”

“I can brew potions of which I cannot show. Potions of which none should know.”

“Like what?” Apple Bloom asked.

“That is something I fear to tell. Now, you must your curiosity quell. Hush now Apple Bloom, so my story can resume.”

The water in the cauldron shimmered again, and the faded image of Mstajiji was replaced by an image of Zecora and Ngu’mfalme wandering through a desert.

“For many days and nights we fled, and several times we felt like dropping dead. Numerous days we spent in the desert, and always for danger I remained alert. I knew that the soldiers would soon give chase, and that to survive we must win this race. But I knew that we barely lived through the sands, and I knew the soldiers would not wish to enter such lands.”

It was late in the morning when the two zebras finally left the desert behind them. Neighboring the desert was a lush jungle which stood in stark contrast to the barren sands they had travelled for far too long. After only a few minutes of walking in the jungle, the trees were already towering above the zebras and blotting out much of the sun, leaving the earth below in green shades and darkness.

Zecora was impressed with Ngu’mfalme’s stamina. As far as she could tell, he was less than two years old, yet he had survived the long trek through the desert without any incidents. The son of her chieftain was indeed strong in spirit.

But Ngu’mfalme had kept silent for most of their flight, only complaining when he was tired, hungry or thirsty. The colt showed no grief of what had happened to his parents. As far as Zecora could tell, Ngu’mfalme had either forgotten or repressed the events of that terrible night and seemingly all days before that.

Eventually, the zebras came upon a large tree with a deep hollow in it. As it was now, there was plenty of space to sleep within it and, with some work, it might become a suitable home for the two zebras. Zecora believed that the soldiers must have given up their chase by now, and she and the colt were weary of travelling. None of them had ever been so far from their home. Zecora used one of the weak poisons she had brought to disinfect the interior of the tree. The lingering poison might cause a minor rash on the young colt, but it was better than either of the zebras contracting an unknown disease from the surrounding fungi and bacteria. While the colt rested, Zecora then began fashioning sharp stone tools which she could use tomorrow to work on the tree. Ngu’mfalme woke later during the day and helped Zecora finish the tools.

She packed out the large sleeping bunk she had brought and folded it out inside the tree. She also packed out her mortar and pestle and thanks to the abundant plants around her, was able to create a liquid whose odor would repel most wild animals. After having applied the liquid to the area around the tree, she joined Ngu’mfalme on the sleeping mat.

“My little colt, goodnight. I’ll see you when it is light,” Zecora spoke softly to Ngu’mfalme.

“Goodnight, mother,” the colt whispered back, and Zecora gasped silently.

The next few days, the two zebras started to work on their new home, further hollowing out the tree and carving an entryway and windows. All the while, the young zebra remained in the belief that Zecora was actually his mother. Zecora did not know what to say to this. The colt was a lot younger than she had originally gauged if he did not retain such important memories as who his mother was. Or maybe the colt had subconsciously realized that his mother was gone and had chosen Zecora as a replacement.

Regardless of why, Ngu’mfalme now saw Zecora as his mother, and she was afraid of telling him otherwise. She could not bring herself to tell him that his mother was dead, and besides, she could not see how the truth would help the colt.

And so, the potion brewer decided to adopt Ngu’mfalme as her son. They finished work on their house and their bond grew stronger. Zecora fashioned new cauldrons from a type of wood that could not burn and continued her career within the jungle. She found her now environment pleasing as there was a natural abundance of both known and unknown ingredients. She worked hard on creating medicines for herself and her son and mixing poisons in case the soldiers from Mstajiji should find them. It was especially the latter that fascinated Ngu’mfalme.

Years passed within the jungle. Zecora taught her son almost everything she knew of nature, and Ngu’mfalme eagerly absorbed everything Zecora said. After only a year, he was brewing potions and poisons independently. He was an expert in brewing potions, but his true talent, his Maanalama, never showed itself.

As happy as Zecora was with her new life, she could not help wondering and worrying. What had become of her home? What kind of rulers were the usurpers? What had happened to her friend Maisha?

By the time Ngu’mfalme had grown to a young and very large stallion, Zecora’s curiosity became too much to bear. She would find a way to know, and she was pretty sure of how to find that way.

The water in the cauldron became green again as the image faded. Apple Bloom looked at Zecora with a puzzled expression. The zebra’s eyes were downcast. “What happened next?” the filly asked impatiently. “What’s wrong?”

“I am reluctant to continue this tale for fear of what it may entail. If my greatest secret you should know, our friendship may very well suffer woe,” Zecora explained in a sad voice.

“Oh, come on!” Apple Bloom pleaded. “It can’t be that bad. Ah won’t tell nopony, Ah swear!”

“No!” Zecora said sternly. “This secret is far too great. Only misery does it create. It took away my loved one and it ended breaking my only son!”

There was silence for a moment. “Ah bet this is what you want to tell me.” Apple Bloom reasoned. “Ya can’t hold stuff like this bottled up, Zecora. Somethin’ happened that’s makin’ you terrible sad. You gotta talk about it.”

Again, there was a long silence between the zebra and the filly. “My good friend, I do not know,” Zecora sighed. “For now, I think you should go. Take the medicine and be on your way, you can come back another day.”

“Alright then,” Apple Bloom said reluctantly. “Thanks for the medicine, Ah’m sure Macintosh’ll ‘preciate it.”

Apple Bloom took the flask of yellow liquid and grudgingly left Zecora’s house. What kind of secret could ruin her and Zecora’s friendship? Apple Bloom wished she knew, and she wished that Zecora would trust her.