Mestra and Magister sat by the fireless hearth. The elder unicorn had not lit flame within since the cold days of winter had passed. There was somewhat of a chill to the air. Magister had explained that it was the coming autumn, which heralded the approaching of winter once again. What held her attention presently was a quiz on counting. Her eyes examined hay straws on the floor as she added silently.
"Five, and five more; that's ten!" the mare said proudly as her butterflies sat on her back.
"Very good, Mestra," the gray-maned unicorn smiled at her. "And how about these?"
"That is three, and four, and two; that makes nine!"
The old unicorn chuckled at her exuberance, causing him to cough, "You certainly do learn quickly, young one. If only you were a unicorn, I could teach you some magic as well."
She tilted her head at him quizzically. He returned her gaze but didn't say anything. She was certain that he knew a question was coming. Magister was adept at reading her expressions, but he never would anticipate what she might be wondering. He patiently waited for her to formulate it in her mind.
"One and one makes two," Mestra said slowly. "You have two chairs."
"Yes, we have two chairs.”
"Two chairs by the fire; two chairs by the table," Mestra could feel her brow furrow in thought. Then she asked, "Why do you have two chairs?"
"One for me, and one for you. That makes two," he replied.
She tilted her head again, "But what about before me?"
His smile slowly evaporated, "What do you mean?"
"I remember," she said curiously. "When I came, there were two chairs. Did you know I was coming?"
"No, Mestra, I did not," the unicorn replied dryly.
He began cleaning up the straw.
"Nopony else comes here but me," the mare said, still trying to work it out. "You and me makes two. Why two chairs?"
"Don't worry about it, Mestra; it isn't important."
This answer simply would not do. She felt a powerful curiosity at the mysterious presence of the extra chair. Given her lack of memories before they’d met the previous winter, she simply didn't have any refined ability to understand subtext, which made the old unicorn's moods somewhat unpredictable to the mare.
“Magister, you were the only one here. Why two chairs?" she asked again. Suddenly remembering the sweaters and scarf that he had given her, she inquired, "Why do you have clothes for mares?"
"Mestra!" he replied hotly as he stomped toward her, "I told you it is unimportant!"
He hesitated a moment, his expression filled with concern and something else. Then he turned and left the cottage, slamming the door behind him. The mare felt crushed by the reply. Surely he hadn't intended to hurt her feelings, but that is exactly what he had done. Mestra Amymone burst into tears and put her head down, crying as a filly would.
The butterflies suddenly lifted off of her and began swirling around the forgotten mare’s head. They then flew toward the door. Through the sadness she now felt, she was somehow compelled to follow them. Drying her eyes, she stood up and walked toward the glowing little companions. They went outside into the night.
The forest around the cabin was familiar to her, though it always made her somewhat uneasy in the dark. Even by the moonlight, she could tell that the leaves were changing from their normal colors, looking almost as if they had ignited into hues of oranges, reds, and yellows as though they were aflame. There was also a coolness to the air.
The butterflies led her away through a fog. In a short time, as if by some secret path she had never been able to find previously, Mestra found herself in a different part of the forest. She might have been afraid, but she knew this place. It was familiar somehow, as if she’d seen it from a dream.
The trees sat by the water, with large gnarled roots that covered the ground and drank their fill. Many more butterflies than her companions were there, attached to the trees. As she drew closer, they too began to come toward her. They were beautiful, almost enough to lift her spirits. Something inside told her to take caution, so she stopped short of the bank. The butterflies still seemed to beckon her to come closer. Curiosity would soon get the better of her.
A blinding flash of light and a thunderclap startled Mestra Amymone, and she spun to find the wise old unicorn standing behind her as if he had appeared out of thin air. A pained expression was on his face as he fell down to his knees.
"Mestra!" he said almost frantically, "don't go near the trees."
She tilted her head questioningly, "Why not?”
"They will make you forget," he said.
"Why should they do that?" she asked.
"It is their purpose," the unicorn replied just as a fit of coughing overcame him.
It was a strange thing that a tree should be able to make one forget, but Magister had never lied to Mestra. He knew everything.
Her mentor recovered, finally standing again and continued, “They feed off of sadness and sorrow. I expect that is how you came to forget yourself. You've been here before, haven't you?"
She turned and looked at the trees again. It was definitely a familiar place. She nodded her answer.
"I suspected as much when I first saw you. I was afraid they might bring you back here eventually."
"Where are we, Magister?” she asked. "How I did not find this place before?"
"It's a kind of magic," he puffed, seemingly out of breath. "They can lead a pony here from anywhere, but what I don't know is what will happen to you if you get too close. They might just take your sadness, or they might take everything again. You could forget all the things I've taught you."
That was a somewhat unnerving thought, and Mestra took a step toward the unicorn, but then stopped short as she remembered his previous harsh words. He studied the look in her eyes.
"I am sorry I yelled at you. I didn't mean to hurt you, but there are some things that I'm not ready to say. There are some things that you're not ready to hear." He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, "If you come back with me now and don't return to this place again, I promise that I will tell you everything when we're both ready."
If she didn't know better, she might have thought he was afraid. She closed the distance between herself and her wise old friend. He smiled uneasily at her and then closed his eyes. They stood in silence a moment, Magister drawing a deep breath. A dim white light glowed from his horn as he concentrated. It grew brighter until a blinding flash of light enveloped both of them. A popping rang the mare’s ears, and the next thing Mestra Amymone knew, they were back in the cabin.
The old unicorn was taken by a fit of coughing and collapsed to the floor. Panicked, the mare tried to pick him up, but he pushed her back.
Between coughs, he managed to say, “I’ll be fine… Mestra… Just give me a moment…”
Her fears waned as Magister recovered from the fit and slowly stood, ambling to the kitchen to get a glass of water. It was then that Mestra noticed the absence of her companions, spinning about to look for them.
"Where are my butterflies?”
"I don't know," the unicorn replied with a sigh of relief, "but I expect they shall return by morning."
The mare was highly unsettled, still looking around for her butterflies when the old stallion approached her. She met his gaze.
“It’s going to be okay, take a breath.”
Mestra inhaled deeply and held it for a moment before letting it out. It did have a calming effect. Bedtime was an unpleasant experience that night, mainly for the uncertainty for the butterflies. Mestra loved to watch them as she got sleepy, and it made her sad to not have them.
She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she awakened the next morning. The butterflies were flitting about the room, one of them having landed on her snout and tickling her. Mestra was overjoyed to have them back, though she didn’t forget that night or the warning that Magister had given her. She knew that some day, the butterflies might try to take her again to the trees that make one forget. She resolved that she wouldn’t follow them to that place, not ever.