“I’m not angry, Mestra,” the elder stallion seethed as he scrubbed the wooden floor of the cottage. “There are many things to which you must still become accustomed. Until you do… until you learn to understand the things your body is telling you, these things will happen…”
The mare, of course, did not understand most of the words that Magister used. Since they had met a few weeks before, he had constantly used new and different words. She had learned several of them, but it seemed the wellspring from which he drew them had no end.
She was becoming better at reading the unicorn’s moods, and despite the fact that he had used the words ‘not angry’, she was fairly certain that he was upset with her. She hadn’t intended to make a mess on the floor. By the time she’d realized it was happening, it had been too late.
The salt-and-pepper stallion stood, his work completed, and washed up. He drew out a small ladder and pulled a small green ceramic jar from one of the upper cupboards. Placing it on the table, he drew a candy from within and took into his mouth. A blissful smile twisted his face.
“Aaaahhh…” Mestra Amymone vocalized, reaching toward the jar.
“I’m just rewarding myself for the cleanup. It makes unpleasant tasks easier.”
“Aaahh!” she made her motion much sharper.
“Mestra, we have been over this,” Magister sighed patiently. “Use your words.”
The mare frowned and grunted, looking around for something to help her memory. Her butterflies were sitting above the fireplace, all basking in the warmth together. Mestra began working through the few words that she knew, trying to remember what they were supposed to mean.
She decided on a few and began, “Magister… candy… give.”
Her mentor smiled, delivering the request to the mare, which she greedily accepted.
“Good enough, Mestra.”
Her brain hurt a little from the effort, but any discomfort was quickly washed away by the sweetness of the hardened caramel against her tongue. She knew not to try and chew it up, as it was just to be sucked on until it dissolved. Magister put the jar and stepladder away.
Something caught the stallion’s attention, and he was drawn to the little window beside the door. A grin worked its way upon his face. Without a word, he went back to one of the closets and began rummaging around.
Mestra ambled over to her sleepy butterflies. Aside from an occasional opening or closing of wings, they sat perfectly still. Magister approached from behind, and the mare turned to face him.
He wore scuffed black boots, a green scarf, and a faded black knit cap. He also had a few items for her, a white hat similar to his own, a blue scarf, and boots. After getting her into hat and scarf, Magister gave up on the boots as she didn’t like their constricting feel and kept kicking them off, but the mare was content to wear the hat and scarf. The pair went to the door.
Magister stopped and spoke, “Mestra, there’s something outside that you need to see.”
Opening the door, it took a moment for the mare’s eyes to adjust, and she nearly choked on her candy when she saw how the land had been transformed. She followed the stallion outside, and the white blanket that covered everything crunched beneath her bare hooves, sending a shiver through her body as the cold assaulted her senses.
“It’s the first snow,” Magister grinned again.
An exuberance took over the mare, and she darted through the little clearing that was in front of the cottage, before stopping and turning back to the sound of Magister laughing. She spun and galloped around the perimeter of the area as fresh flakes of snow fell from the sky.
Her butterflies also came outside and began swirling around the mare as she charged back and forth, eventually flinging herself down on the soft bed of white into which her hooves had been sinking. The cold bit at her much more quickly when she did that, compelling her to stand again and shake the snow from her coat.
Magister had been busy, and now his efforts caught her attention. She padded through the snow toward him; it was not stinging her hooves as badly, but they were beginning to get numb.
“Aaaahhh?” the mare vocalized.
“Use your words, Mestra,” her mentor said calmly without so much as looking up at her.
He had been piling the snow up as if he were building something. She tried to remember the word for this. Presently, it escaped her. One word did come to mind, but she didn’t know if it was correct, so she decided to try it anyway.
“Magister… which?”
“Which? Did you mean, what?”
She nodded, “Ah!”
“Look,” he said as he made his finishing touches. “It’s a snow-pony.”
“What…”
Magister shrugged and smiled, “It’s just for fun, Mestra.”
She turned, beginning to shiver, and noticed from the door and everywhere she’d run, there were deep impressions in the snow. She leaned down to inspect the nearest set.
“Those are your hoof-prints, Mestra. They let you know where you’ve been. You can use them to find your way back.” He snorted, “I suppose memories are not dissimilar.”
As usual, Mestra Amymone didn’t understand most of what Magister was saying. She began shivering, just as she had when she’d first found his cabin.
“You should have worn the boots,” his smile faded somewhat. “Let’s head back inside and get you warmed up.”
The odd little group was soon inside again, the butterflies resting by the fireplace and Mestra basking in the heat as well. She decided that she liked the snow.