Time and Tide [MLP FIM]

Well, I don't know exactly where this story is headed. Let's find out together! It features the pony which fandom has dubbed Dr. Whoof or Dr. Whooves.



This was an idea too delicious for me to pass up.

Additional note: the title will probably change eventually.

~*~

Zecora hummed to herself as she sprinkled sage into her bubbling cauldron. Drawing in a deep breath, she sighed in satisfaction at the mouth-watering aroma. All the stew needed now was time. Her stomach grumbled in protest at the idea of waiting, but she knew the wild roots and tubers (plus potatos from Ponyville) wouldn't be ready for an hour at least. With a shrug of her striped shoulders she picked up a wicker basket and stepped out the door of her cozy hut. Searching for wild onions and carrots would refill her pantry as well as keeping her mind off her stomach.

Zecora's bracelets jangled as she leapt lightly over a moss-covered log. Dusk darkened the forest under the leafy canopy, but here and there a meadow opened up under a starlit sky or dramatic cliffs broke the forest floor. Fortunately the zebra knew this part of the Everfree Forest like the back of her hoof, so there was no danger of--

WHAM.

"Ow. Ow, I say. What's in my way?" Zecora rubbed her bruised nose as she sat back on her haunches. The dim starlight gleamed up the edge of a . . . box? A blue box? The zebra stood up and walked around the box slowly, staring at the thing. What in Equestria was it? A toolshed, perhaps? But why would one be in the middle of nowhere? She was just about to investigate further when she heard a loud groan from the trees.

Or rather, below the trees, she corrected herself as she hurried over to the edge of a cliff. She could barely make out a dark form sprawled many feet below. The Everfree Forest was a treacherous place to anypony who didn't know its secrets. Zecora hoped this poor soul was all right.

"You down there, do not despair," she called as she pushed her way through the ferns to a nearly hidden path. Zecora picked her way down as quickly as she dared. She mentally thanked Princess Luna as the moon drifted above the trees, lighting the scene.

A brown stallion lay at the base of the cliff, his legs sprawling in all directions and his eyes closed. Scraps of fabric encased parts of his legs here and there, pinstripes and white fabric separated along burst seams. The zebra nudged him gently, mentally calculating the height of his fall. Thirty feet? Forty? To her relief, his face twisted into another groan.

"So you are alive! Quite a fall to survive."

"Oh, I've been through worse, I assure you." The stallion slowly levered himself up with his front legs. "And you are . . ." He squinted at her. "A talking pony." He looked down at his front hooves, then reached up to pat at his face. "And so, apparently, am I. Brilliant."

Zecora hardly paid attention to this speech; she had let out a gasp as she spotted the dark stain that spread over the remains of the brown pony's clothing. "Sir! Please lie down while I fetch a doctor from town!"

"What?" He blinked at her, then followed her gaze. "Oh. The blood. Wouldn't worry about it, it's not mine. Not anymore, so to speak." He contemplated his blood-soaked shirt for a moment before rocking back on his haunches, then forward onto his feet. "And I AM a doctor. The Doctor, in fact. But I would appreciate it if you pointed me in the direction of town. I don't fancy walking off any more cliffs tonight."

"Well . . ." Zecora watched dubiously as the Doctor wandered around the clearing, posing on three hooves once in a while to take another poke at his muzzle or ears. At last she nodded. "Over here, a trail is clear." She gestured towards it with her head.

"Ahhh, that's more like it. Good old quarries. I've climbed out of more of these than--" He took four confident strides up the embankment, then braced his legs as his hooves slid right back down. "--yes, well, this takes some getting used to, doesn't it? Hmm." The Doctor tried again and this time managed an artistic spin as he skidded to the bottom.

"Take it slow, that's the way to go," Zecora told him kindly. "You may hold my tail if it will help you climb the trail."

"Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary," the brown pony said, taking another shot at the narrow, rocky pathway and this time tripping over his own tail. ". . . but if it would make you feel useful, weeeell."

Twenty minutes later, the Doctor heaved himself over the top of the cliff, teeth clamped around Zecora's black and white tail. "I miss my trainers," he muttered, glancing at his back hooves.

The odd blue box was still sitting there. The Doctor cast a look at it, a mixture of relief and reproach. "Couldn't you have landed at the bottom of the cliff?"

Zecora shrugged off this bizarre remark. "Do you feel well enough to start for town alone? There's something I must attend to in my home."

"Fit as a fiddle. Healthy as a horse. What's so important at home, then? Strange happenings? Ghosts? Metal men--erm, horses--about?" His ears pricked forward.

Zecora smiled at his imagination. "The place where you landed after your fall, did you notice what covered the ground at all?"

"Erm . . . some kind of blue plant. Is that significant?"

"Poison joke is that plant's name and spreading humor is its game."

"I see." The Doctor's tail switched. "Poison joke. Oh yes, I see." With a snort he strode off into the forest, head held high. A moment later he walked back. "And which way is town again?"

Zecora led him to the brown dirt path that led back to town. "Follow it closely, but beware. Poison joke lurks here and there."

"I have a feeling poison joke has already played its trick on me," the Doctor said, pushing his mane out of his eyes. "At any rate. Allons-y!"

Oh noes, ponies! What will happen next? Probably more stuff involving ponies. That is a good guess.

Trainers is a British term for sneakers.