//------------------------------// // Chapter XII // Story: The Forgotten: Friends // by Jatheus //------------------------------// Mestra Amymone’s head was swimming from the assault of knowledge that had bombarded her over the previous few hours. She walked alongside Stormy, who was saying goodbye to her friends. “I think things are going well,” the dark mare declared. Mestra returned a bewildered look. Stormy regarded the expression, “I take it you didn’t enjoy the lesson today.” The forgotten mare lowered her head and continued to put one hoof in front of the other. “Your grammar is really improving. That’s a great start,” Stormy added hopefully. “Why would... use... for... for...” a frustrated question was forming. “Why would you use what?” Stormy aided. “Circum... conference?” “Circumference?” “Ah!” Mestra affirmed. The swimming feeling in her head was beginning to ache a bit. “Well, if you needed to know how far around a circle was, but you couldn’t measure it.” “Why no can measure?” Stormy thought a moment, “Maybe it’s too big? If you had a really big fence, or a town that was round, it would be really difficult to measure that. Much easier to measure the distance from the center to one end and then use pi.” “Mestra hate pi.” “I think pie is delicious!” Stormy jested. Mestra tilted her head to one side, clearly not understanding the pun. “Forget it,” Stormy shrugged. The conversation was interrupted by an orange stallion approaching from behind. Mestra had seen him at school. His brown mane sort of danced on his face as he walked, nearly obscuring his teal eyes. As he passed, he glanced at Stormy and then Mestra in turn. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again, making something like a humming noise. “Hi, Burble,” Stormy said as he quickened his pace, speeding away from the pair without making any answer. The forgotten mare stopped in her tracks, bringing Stormy to a halt as well. “What he does that for?” “Him? He’s harmless,” Stormy explained. “His name is Burlap Yarn Ball. I think his parents are sack makers or something. He’s always been a little strange, but he means well.” “But Stormy said... Bur... bull?” “Burble, yeah. It’s sort of a nickname he’s had since... I can’t even remember how long. Probably from our first year of school. I only found out his full name when his parents invited the entire class over for his cuteseñeara... Only three of us went...” Stormy looked as though she felt bad for the stallion. Mestra didn’t know that much of those sorts of social gatherings, as she had only attended one birthday party. She concluded that for almost nopony to show up when they had all been invited would not be a good thing. “Come on. We’d best get moving if we don’t want to be late.” “Ah!” The pair cantered to their next destination. Stormy had told Mestra that the pay wasn’t great at the berry patch on the first day, but the forgotten mare still had not quite grasped the concept of the value of labor. Money was much easier to understand as the trading of bits for goods was fairly straightforward. Misty had attempted to explain skills and scarcity, but everypony knew Mestra hadn’t understood. The mystery of why one job would arbitrarily have ‘better pay’ than another... she was still working to understand. They toiled the sunny afternoon away, loading up their buckets with berries, and restraining themselves from sampling too many of them. The sun was moving low on the horizon when they turned in their cargo and received their pay. Mestra’s muscles ached from the effort, but she soon became excited. Each evening after work, Stormy would take Mestra down another row of houses in town. Each time they would ask the same question: do you recognize this pony? So far, none had known the forgotten mare. It wouldn’t be long before they would have searched the entire town, and Mestra Amymone was certain that either family or friends would soon be found. What would happen afterward was anypony’s guess. Several houses were checked, with the usual results. Some thought they were selling cookies, while others seemed generally confused. Some took a long hard look, searching their memories intently, but all had the same result. No pony seemed to remember seeing her before she came to town and took up residence with Misty and Stormy. They arrived at the end of their course as the sun was setting. The last house stood apart from the others. The yard was somewhat overgrown behind an iron fence. The pair walked a narrow path which led to the door. Stormy knocked. A shuffling was heard inside, and then hoofsteps against the floor. Teal eyes met them as Burble opened the door. His expression, initially one of slight curiosity became as one who had been petrified by fear. Mestra instinctively looked behind her, uncertain as to whether she should also be afraid. “Oh, hi, Burble,” Stormy greeted. The young stallion mumbled a reply that Mestra couldn’t understand. Stormy forced a smile. Though not overly skilled in social graces, Mestra felt certain that the situation had become awkward. “Hullo,” Burble finally managed. “Are your parents home?” Stormy asked. He nodded, but otherwise didn’t move. The forgotten mare decided that she would try, “Mestra are looking for ponies... who remember... Mestra.” A look of confusion twisted Burble’s face, but he said nothing. “She lost her memory,” Stormy added. “So we’ve been going from house to house to see if anyone knows her. I didn’t expect you would, or you’d have said something in class.” Burble nodded and then rather unceremoniously turned and trotted away, leaving the door ajar. Stormy and Mestra exchanged a glance. “What happen?” Stormy shrugged, “You’ve got me. It’s almost as if...” The darker coated mare didn’t finish, but it seemed as though a light of recognition filled her eyes. Before Mestra could ask what her friend was thinking, Burble’s parents arrived at the door. It was the same as all of the other houses. They looked her over, faces contorted in thought, but they eventually shrugged and apologized that they couldn’t help. No pony had yet remembered Mestra Amymone from before. She felt her shoulders slump a little as they walked back to Stormy’s house. She’d had high hopes that the search would have been easily completed, but the weeks had stretched into months. The lack of answers was beginning to feel like lowering clouds were hanging over her head. “Welcome home,” Misty greeted the pair cordially. Her searching eyes assessed them up in a moment as she added, “Stormy, would you set the table. Mestra, if you don’t mind, I could use some help in the kitchen.” “Ah,” she replied. They prepared the food in relative silence: an arugula salad dressed in a vinaigrette with apple wedges, a side of fresh hay, and a cranberry tart for dessert. Mestra could feel her mouth beginning to water as her stomach began complaining. As they finished getting everything put on the table, Stormy was straightening up the kitchen. “You seem a bit down,” Misty observed. Mestra shrugged at her, not particularly wanting to talk about her disappointment. The elder mare held the forgotten in her gaze as the butterflies danced above the table. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it when something is bothering you.” Mestra simply shrugged a second time. “Well, just know that anything you need, I’m here for you.” “Me too!” Stormy declared as she entered the room. The forgotten mare felt a warmth fill her from within, countering the sadness. Even though she hadn’t yet found any trace of her past, it was a comfort to have made new friends. It had all but erased the loneliness she’d felt after her magister had died. She found sleep much more easily that night, and the next morning she renewed her resolve to continue on, starting with more school. Her morning grammar studies notwithstanding, the lessons most days were a bit more advanced than Mestra could handle, so she ended up sitting in the corner and reading one of her books that she had brought with her. This one was about nature and the cycles of life and water that occurred in the world. The mare was amazed how the Pegasi would use a tornado as a waterspout to get moisture up into the air in preparation for coming precipitation. “Ahem,” a stallion cleared his throat. Having been lost in her book, Mestra was a little surprised to see Burble standing so close. Everypony else was sort of milling about as if class were over. Stormy was talking to Bluebonnet Lace, but the stallion was staring directly at the forgotten mare. “Ah?” she asked. Sort of shrinking back and gaining the lightest red hue to his face, Burble mumbled something. But for his lips moving, Mestra wouldn’t have known he had attempted to speak at all. “Ah?... er... What?” His visage becoming bright crimson, the stallion muttered a second time some inaudible message. “Mestra sorry... Mestra no hear.” The stallion’s pupils and irises shrank, leaving large whites of his eyes as he opened his mouth, an ear-splitting shout escaping, “DO YOU WANT TO GO TO THE FALL FESTIVAL WITH ME!” A shiver of fear gripped Mestra as she dropped her book, scrambling backward as quickly as she was able, spilling from her chair. Silence had fallen over everypony else. The little butterflies left their perch on the mare’s back and zipped through the air, directly at Burble’s reddening face. He bolted away, dodging what otherwise might have been an ineffectual attack. Laughter erupted from the other students as the stallion galloped from the building. Mestra’s heart raced as Stormy helped her up. “Are you okay?” “Ah,” Mestra nodded, her heart still pounding. The rest of the class took up a chant, “Mestra and Burble, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Burble pushing a new foal’s carriage!” The sound of their tone more than the words sang made the forgotten mare’s face flush. She wasn’t accustomed to being teased, even though Verdant Thicket had soundly introduced her to the concept. “Hey!” Stormy shouted over them, “Knock it off!” The group as one blew kisses at Stormy. She simply waved them off. Mestra also felt the need to run away, not to follow Burble, but emotions were churning inside that she did need to sort out. Stormy followed her lead but wouldn’t let her flee, and the pair walked out of the classroom with what dignity they had left, the quartet of glowing butterflies following behind. “Are you okay?” Stormy asked a second time once they had gained some distance from the school. “Ah... Mestra fell not far.” Stormy stopped, commanding Mestra’s gaze, “I didn’t mean from the fall.” The forgotten mare shifted uneasily, looking to her butterflies. They had assumed a flight pattern making a wide circle around Mestra. It comforted her, but she didn’t receive any answers from them. Stormy had a fiery brightness to her eyes, but there was something else: concern. Mestra squirmed and shrugged, unsure what she would say. Stormy gave what passed for a smile, “Well, if anypony bothers you, you can tell me about it. I’ll help if I can.” The words did make the embarrassed mare feel better. “Ah!” she nodded. They continued on in silence until they arrived for their afternoon job picking berries. The work was easy but tedious. Mestra several times caught Stormy looking at her, as if something were on her mind. She had considered asking about it when Stormy broke their silence. “So, Mestra, I had seen Burble over there with you before... well, before his outburst. Did he say anything else?” “Uh,” she shook her head, feeling uncertain as to where this question might lead. “Well, I guess... I mean, I saw you didn’t have a chance to answer him after that. So, what are you going to do?” “Ah?” “He asked you to the festival.” Mestra tilted her head to one side questioningly. Stormy’s brow furrowed, “You have no idea what that means, do you?” The forgotten mare shook her head. Her butterflies lost their perch and flitted about, eventually settling down on her hindquarters. “Okay, this is going to take some explaining,” Stormy began with a sigh. “When two ponies like each other, they spend time together. So, when you get asked to go somewhere, you know, on a date, it’s a good thing.” “Mestra do not know what is a date.” “Erm, well, kind of like an appointment, but for fun.” “Ron... ron... duh...” “Rendezvous, yes. Where two ponies meet up at a pre-arranged time and place.” “Like Mestra and Stormy meet... to work.” “No, no, not like that.” “Spend time together. Stormy do not like Mestra?” Stormy began to look a little flustered, but she took a breath, “It’s a little different. I mean, of course I like you, but he might like you, like you.” Seeing no change, she continued, “So, there’s liking and liking... they’re not the same thing.” “Ah?” “When a stallion and a mare like each other... it’s... different. Have you not even heard of romance?” “Ah! Is where foals come from. Magister told me so.” Stormy’s face turned a bright shade of red, if possible, even more so than had Burble’s, “Not so loud!” Mestra looked around, but seeing no pony else nearby, she turned back to Stormy. The other took a breath, “Ultimately, yes if all goes well, and the stallion and mare both really like each other, that can happen.” “Ah, Mestra not need foals. Mestra not go... date.” “But that’s not why you go on a date. I guess it’s kind of like a journey. If you go all the way down the path, then foals can come, but the date is sort of the first steps in that direction, so there’s plenty of time to... well, to get off that path if you don’t like who you’re traveling with.” “So, go date... get know... Burble?” “If you want to, yes. For him to ask means he already likes you.” Mestra felt her face flush. “Oh my Celestia! Do you like him?” Mestra shrugged, feeling somewhat uncomfortable but unsure what to do. Stormy thought quietly for a while as the pair continued their work. She eventually made one final attempt. “Mestra, if nothing else I think the experience would be good for you, and I was thinking about going anyway. There’s a few days before you have to decide. I guess I just want you know that I can be there for you.” Mestra considered the complication to her routine. The deviation from their daily disappointment did sound nice. “Also, you could always tell Burble that you would go as just a friend. That way you wouldn’t have to worry about the romance,” Stormy added with a wink. Mestra felt herself smile, “Stormy be there... Mestra go.” A grin crawled across Stormy’s face, “Oh this is going to be so much fun! We can get dresses and we’ll have to get our mane’s done. First, we need to tell Burble that you accept. We can do that tonight.” The forgotten mare felt mostly pleased with her decision. However, it was Stormy’s reaction that gave her pause. The darker mare was so uncharacteristically exuberant that it made Mestra wonder to what she had actually agreed.