Zecora had been another initial failure.  She’d realized too late that she should have been the one rushing out to meet the zebra—if she could giggle at the ghosties, why couldn’t she zoom to the zebra—or at the very least have baked a ‘Welcome-to-Ponyville-on-your-monthly-shopping-trip’ cake?  It could have been because of her upbringing: there sure weren’t any zebra rock farmers.  Still, that was a poor excuse.  No pegasuses rock farmed either, and she’d not had any problem making friends with them once she’d moved to Ponyville.  Besides, shunning somepony because of her species or stripes on her fur was silly.