Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria, there was a young mare who lost her memory, even her ability to speak. Accompanied by her magical butterfly companions, she was taken in by a wise old unicorn who taught her what she needed to find her place in the world. This is the story of Mestra Amymone…
Summer birds sang heartily as a warm breeze caressed the trees. The forgotten mare flicked her ears as they were tickled by the wind. Water dripped from her mane and coat, cooling her. The golden butterflies danced nearby as Magister’s coughing drowned the avian songs. The fit soon passed, and he continued padding slowly behind her.
“Vowels,” he said.
The mare felt her brow furrow as she skipped along, “A, E, I, O, and U!”
“And-“
“And sometimes Y!” she spun to face him.
The old unicorn chuckled at her enthusiasm. He nearly had caught up to her when he spoke again.
“You have certainly taken to everything I’ve tried to teach you.”
She grinned in reply.
“I expect you’ll be an accomplished swimmer soon. Though, your verbs still need work.”
Mestra felt her shoulders slump as she fell in stride with Magister.
“State of being verbs, all tenses.”
The mare let her brain work to recall the words before making her reply, “Am... is... was... were... being... been.”
“And?” he asked expectantly.
“Nuah! Is not and! And is… is a con… a con…”
“And is a conjunction, but you missed two.”
Mestra stopped in her tracks, working her mind to find the missing verbs. She looked around, as if the trees or undergrowth would give her an answer. Something caught her attention at the base of a nearby tree. She turned and trotted over to it, tilting her head quizzically at the discovery.
A brightly colored bird lay crumpled on the ground. It was not unlike the hue of the sky, though a bit deeper. The tips of an outstretched wing had patterned black and white. Her nose wrinkled at the sickly sweet stench that permeated the area. She took a step back from the silent fowl.
“Ah?”
“Use your words, Mestra.”
She shook her head, “This bird… Why is… he sleepy?”
Magister frowned, “It’s a bluejay, and it isn’t sleeping.”
“Not sleep…ing?”
“No, Mestra. He’s dead.”
“Dead,” the mare repeated the unknown word. “Magister… can wake up him?”
The old unicorn frowned a second time, “No, Mestra. He’s gone.”
She looked down at the bird, confused by the statement and asked, “Where he did go?”
Magister coughed before answering, “The life, the energy that powers the body… some call it the soul… it isn’t there anymore. Where it goes is the subject of much debate, but once it leaves the body, it doesn’t return.”
The mare remembered one of her new words and asked, “Not never?”
“No, Mestra,” the stallion sat down. “Life is a frail thing, like a candle. However, unlike a candle, it cannot be relit once it is extinguished. Dead is forever.”
The mare looked at the lifeless form again, still so brightly colored. It should have been cheerful, but it made her sad to think that it would never sing again.
The little butterflies danced in front of Mestra’s eyes for a moment before Magister waved them away. The mare looked to her mentor, feeling some unknown need to do something for the bird. He read the pleading in her eyes and nodded slowly.
“There is only one thing we can do,” he spoke deliberately. “The cabin is just around the bend, if you would be good enough to run ahead and grab a shovel, I’ll wait here, and we can give him a proper burial.”
“Ah!” the mare exclaimed as she darted off.
She galloped past trees and arrived at the cabin within moments, her butterflies struggling to keep up. The gardening shed was outside, and Mestra approached it warily. While she wasn’t exactly terrified of spiders, they did give her somewhat of a tiny fright when they crawled upon her.
Cautiously checking as she opened the old wooden door, she was pleased to discover neither web nor arachnid to impede her progress. She retrieved the shovel and returned to Magister at a much slower pace, encumbered by her burden.
She found her mentor still sitting where she’d left him, and he showed her where to dig. It was not her favorite activity, but there was something comforting about the simplicity of working the earth. The rich scent of freshly disturbed soil soon filled the air, and it wasn’t long before the old unicorn told her to stop.
“Now, the shovel, please.”
Mestra passed the tool to Magister, and he used it to gently lift the body of the bird, delicately placing it in the ground. He then leaned the shovel against the tree and stood over the hole for a moment.
Looking to her, he said, “It is customary to say words, reverently.”
“Rever… rev… ently?”
“Reverently. It means, respectfully or thoughtfully.”
She nodded in understanding as her butterflies landed on her back.
“Little bluejay,” Magister began, “You were beautiful in body and in song. The world is a sadder place to no longer have your melody sounding in it.”
He looked up to Mestra, who felt rather self-conscious and shook her head, opting to say nothing. Magister nodded and then took the shovel, using it to fill in the hole. As they walked back to the cabin, the passing of the bird weighed heavily on the mare’s mind.
“Magister, why did bird dead?”
“Die. Why did the bird die?”
“Ah,” she suddenly remembered to use her proper words, “yes.”
He stopped just short of the door to the gardening shed. Magister looked down for a moment in thought. The butterflies lifted off and flew over to him. He waved them away and returned his attention to his ward.
“Mestra… it is the nature of all living things to someday die.”
It took a few moments for the impact of what he’d said to become fully realized by the mare. Something akin to panic flooded her mind and her ears folded back.
“Everything?”
Magister nodded solemnly, “I wish I could tell you differently, but… I cannot protect you from hard truths, and I’d be a fool to try. Given enough time, we all grow old and die.”
She didn’t like it, not one bit. The mare looked away, but found no comfort in the trees or the singing of the birds overhead. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to be like the little bird, forever silenced and left to decay. The warm embrace of the old unicorn took the edge from her panic.
“Easy, Mestra. It’s okay. You have many years yet before you have to worry about that.”
She relaxed into his fatherly embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.
“I’m sorry to have so frightened you. I suppose I thought that, since you had the presence of mind to ask the question, you needed a proper answer.”
The pair separated, the mare looking into the wise elder’s green eyes.
“There are many hard truths in this world, Mestra Amymone. Some are far more easily borne than others. Since we met, I’ve been trying to train you up with everything you’ll need to face the world. Sometimes, what we need and what we want are quite different…”
The old unicorn took a breath, seeming lost in thought for a moment before he smiled and added, “Try to not dwell on these things. You can’t change them, after all.”
She returned the expression, and did feel somewhat comforted, though not exactly happy. He returned the shovel to its place, coughing a bit as he closed the door to the musty shed.
“Come on, I need some water, and I think you need a candy.”
Mestra’s spirit was somewhat lifted at the promise of the sweetness as the pair went into the cabin.