The Forgotten: Friends

by Jatheus

Chapter IX

Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria, there was a young mare who lost her memory. A wise old unicorn magister took her in and retrained her to speak, read, and many other things. Within but a year, the wise old unicorn passed away, leaving the forgotten mare alone. The seasons changed, and after intently studying the books that had been left behind, the mare was ready to set out to search the world for clues of her hidden past. This is the story of Mestra Amymone...

The shadow of dreamscape took hold of the mind, showing vague images of others that were obscure and yet somehow familiar. Those figures spoke, their voices calming, almost beckoning to be recalled into consciousness. As they began to fade, a clear soft pattering replaced them. The ghostly images from the night were drowned out, lost completely to the waking world with the breaking of a new day.

As her eyes opened, the mare blinked for the water that splashed against her face; the unmistakable scent of rain flooded her senses. Mestra Amymone had found a nice clearing in the forest in which to sleep, but it seemed that water was falling, not gently, from the sky. It had doused her fire, which was now steaming into the chilled air.

The mare sat up, groggily taking in her surroundings. Her blanket and clothes were soaked through. She shivered and sneezed. Removing the wet articles was the only sensible thing to do, and she packed them all up and tied them onto her back for easy traveling. A growling stomach demanded attention, so Mestra opened her ever-shrinking bag of oats. There was barely a mouthful left, and the forest seemed devoid of anything edible. With a sigh, the mare ate half of her remaining provender and stowed the bag.

After making certain that the fire was not going to restart, she left her little camp-site and continued heading south through the forest. The little golden glowing butterflies, her constant companions, swirled about her as she began walking, eventually landing on top of her head. They tickled her mane, but not half so much as the rain already did.

Minutes stretched on into hours, and the sun, though hidden by the clouds, made it’s trek up and over as the lone mare trudged onward, always south. Her magister had once told her that there was a town in that direction. The days since she had finally left the cottage behind had stretched into weeks. So far as she could tell, she was the only pony left in the whole world. She knew this was false, but there had yet to be any evidence to the contrary.

From her lessons, Mestra knew that it was a wise princess that raised the sun every day. Every night, the same princess would raise the moon, where her own sister was imprisoned for rebelling long ago. Also, pegasus ponies were supposed to be controlling the weather. She never had seen them, but they must have put the clouds overhead and brought the rain.

The forest through which she walked was teaming with life. Squirrels and rabbits, not to mention countless varieties of insects and other small mammals scurried about. Of plant life, there was an overabundance that was beyond identification. The magister had mostly taught her about which varieties were edible. The mare felt herself sigh; she missed her magister terribly.

The butterflies kept her company enough, but they didn’t speak. She always wondered what they actually understood about life and the world in general. They seemed to know something of sorrow, as it was their magic to take such upon themselves and so relieve a pony of the burden. With no means of communication, the mare could only wonder if they remembered the sadnesses that they consumed.

Noise up ahead caused Mestra Amymone to halt so abruptly that her butterflies lifted from her head and fluttered about nearby. She strained to hear. The sound was faint at first, but it was almost certainly a voice. The mare couldn’t make out the words, but it didn’t sound like talking. She crept closer as quietly as hooves through wet undergrowth can be. It was singing. A beautiful voice undulated with no particular words all across the vocal range. It was somehow soothing. Mestra, almost unwillingly, continued walking forward. The voice grew louder as she approached. There were two of them. The second voice picked up a harmony, and the two sang together as one.

Before she realized it, Mestra Amymone had come to a clearing and stood in plain sight. Not far ahead were two mares standing by a stone well. They wore leather saddles with lined leather bags into which they were pouring water from a bucket. One was much older, she had a golden-chestnut coat with a darker mane and tail. Her lavender eyes were filled with wisdom and joy. The younger was black as the night sky with vivacious blue eyes.

They sang together, not noticing the intruder initially. She was content to listen to them sing, but as her butterfly companions swirled about, the older mare saw her and stopped the song. The younger also became quiet and blushed. They all simply stared at each other in silence for a moment as the rain pattered on them. Mestra Amymone wasn’t sure what to do.

“Hello,” the elder of the pair spoke.

It was a normal greeting. The forgotten mare knew she should reply as her magister had taught her.

“Hi,” she said as confidently as she could.

Silence followed for a long moment. Mestra felt somehow nervous, but she didn’t know why.

“Those butterflies are beautiful.”

The mare wasn’t sure how to answer that statement. She felt like she should know what to say, but something restrained her.

“Ah,” she managed a half-smile.

“Are you lost?” the older mare asked, stepping forward.

“Lost?” Mestra considered the question.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Ah,” the mare tried to form the words. She had grown somewhat out of practice, “Was told… town... this way.”

“You were told correctly.”

Excitement stirred within the mare.

“I’m Misty,” the golden-chestnut said. “This is Stormy, my daughter.”

“Hello,” Stormy said with a smile.

“Hi.”

Misty asked, “Do you have a name?”

“Ah,” came the answer, “name… called Mestra Amymone.”

“It is nice to meet you, Mestra.”

The silence returned again. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. The forgotten mare couldn’t remember a conversation with her magister ever feeling quite so awkward as this.

“Hollow Shades,” Misty broke the quiet.

Mestra remembered the name. That was a place where her magister had once travelled. That was where he had made his family.

“Ah... Mestra go… Hollow Shades,” she smiled and was beginning to grow more comfortable speaking.

“Do you have family there?”

“Uh... no do... uh... not know.”

“Do you plan to stay at the inn?”

“Inside... what?”

“Not in like within, but an inn, like a tavern.”

Mestra tilted her head to one side questioningly.

“Is she okay?” Stormy asked.

The elder mare continued, “They sell food and drink, and they have beds to sleep in. You’d need money.”

“Mestra… not know... what is a money,” the forgotten mare answered.

“I see,” Misty smiled disarmingly before taking a moment to think. “What did you hope to accomplish in Hollow Shades?”

“Mestra… forgotten,” the reply felt inadequate.

“You forgot why you are going to Hollow Shades?”

“Uh.”

Misty’s face twisted up, “I’m not sure I understand.”

The mare had confused herself as to why she found this so difficult. She had never had trouble talking to her magister.

“Mestra mean… Mestra forgotten... in here,” she gestured to her own head. “Hollow Shades... maybe has... others... know Mestra… remember.”

“We can help you look,” Stormy offered. “I’m good at finding things.”

Misty smiled, “What others?”

The gentle pattering of the rain was the only answer that came; it seemed deafening juxtaposed against the lull in the dialogue. Mestra was frustrated with herself.

“Mestra… sorry,” she finally managed.

Fresh thunder sounded even closer than the previous report.

“We’d better be getting back,” the older mare said. “That lightning is getting close. If you want to, you can stay with us for tonight.”

Mestra started to walk forward but stopped short. She felt her own face contort as her butterflies filled her mane once again. She concluded that the months that had passed since she’d lost her magister had caused her troubles with the conversation. There was something she was supposed to say, and then she remembered.

“Thank you.”

Misty smiled uneasily, “It’s no trouble.”

The three of them walked away from the well, the two laden with water-filled saddle bags. This amused Mestra somewhat. Water was falling from the sky, and the two she’d encountered were carrying water that had come from the ground.

The wind began to howl through the trees, which bent and groaned under the strain. The rain became fat drops that pelted Mestra’s back. Her butterflies scurried down her neck and hid themselves beneath the load she carried. About that time, they entered a clearing, but it was more akin to a different kind of forest.

It was a forest of cottages, not dissimilar from the one that she had lived in with her magister. Smoke rose from the chimneys, only to be disbursed by the falling rain that pounded mercilessly down. They turned to their right, which Mestra remembered would be west. Amongst the other houses, Stormy and Misty led her to one with a small white fence that bordered the front yard. It was so short that they could have walked over it with little effort. Instead, part of it opened up to them like a door. After Mestra walked through, Stormy looked puzzled, but returned and closed the gate behind them.

As they entered the house, Mestra sneezed. It was dark inside, but Misty found a firefly lantern and agitated the creatures inside to give off their glow. It was always fascinating to watch the fireflies. They revealed that this cottage was larger than the one where the magister had lived. There were more rooms to the side down a hallway. Stormy retreated to a back room and returned with towels.

Mestra Amymone shooed her butterflies, which flittered about the room while she unpacked herself and dried her coat. No sooner had she finished than her companions again took up residence in her mane. She didn’t mind this, although they did sometimes tickle when they moved about. After the other two had unloaded their burdens and dried themselves, Stormy showed Mestra where she could hang her clothes to dry. Misty had gone to another room.

“You can sit down, if you like, or you can come with me. I have to help my mom out in the kitchen.”

“That where food… made,” Mestra heard herself say; the words were beginning to come more easily.

Stormy tilted her head to one side, “That’s right.”

The pair went into the kitchen. Mestra stood at the door while Stormy began removing things from cabinets. The floor was of white tile, the like of which Mestra Amymone had never before seen. Her hooves made a satisfying clicking sound against it when she set them down. It almost seemed familiar somehow.

The other two spoke to each other in whispers. The observer didn’t think much of this, but she didn’t understand why they spoke so quietly. She considered asking, but before she had a chance, Stormy turned to her.

“The food’s almost ready if you want to sit at the table.”

Mestra smiled and did as she was told. The rain continued relentlessly falling against the house and cascading down the exterior, most notably on the windows. Occasional flashes of lightning were punctuated by thunder that followed. The butterflies lifted off and flew away to explore the house. The hosts then entered, setting a tray of sandwiches down on the table along with a pitcher of water.

“I hope you like daisy and daffodil,” Misty said a little sheepishly.

“Mestra no have eat... that… before.”

They each took a sandwich, and Mestra examined it briefly before taking a bite. She wasn’t suspicious in the slightest, and in fact, really didn’t know enough about the world to entertain such a notion. Curiosity was the only thing that drove her scrutiny. The bread had a hard crust, but the inner white part was fluffy and seemed to melt in her mouth. The flavors of the insides combined in a wonderful way. It was almost sweet.

“Mestra like it!”

“My momma can cook,” Stormy offered proudly.

Misty smiled. They ate in silence until the meager sandwiches were consumed. Only then did the older mare began asking questions.

“So, Mestra, where are you from?”

Considering her reply, she decided on, “North.”

The other two were looking at her with expectation in their eyes.

She continued, “Mestra live in... cottage... with Magister.”

“Oh? I didn’t know anypony lived in the woods.”

“What about the sorcerer that lives out there and eats up little fillies who wander off?” Stormy offered.

“That’s just an old mare’s tale to keep foals out of the forest,” Misty chided gently. “Aren’t you a little old for such things.”

Stormy rolled her eyes at the correction. The forgotten mare didn’t know whether the legend was referring to her magister, but she did know that she’d never seen him eat up a little filly. Also, what magic he had done was only ever to help her.

“Mestra and Magister live in forest. Magister finding Mestra. Magister teached to Mestra things.”

“What kind of things did he teach you?”

“Magister teaching Mestra all the things. Mestra know numbers and letters. Mestra learn make words,” she beamed. “Magister taught to Mestra… the Crystal Empire and Equestria and the mare that raises the sun.”

“So, you were with him since you were a filly?” Stormy asked.

Mestra shook her head, sorrow filling her again, as the butterflies returned and swirled about her.

“Mestra only spend... one year with Magister. He d... go away.”

Stormy looked as if she would say something more, but Misty shot her a look that brought silence from the younger mare.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Mestra Amymone met Misty’s eyes. They were filled with a sadness as deep as the one in the forgotten mare’s own heart. The butterflies flew over to the older mare, beckoning her to follow.

Unaware of their call, Misty asked, “What about before?”

“Be-fore?”

“Yes, before you met your magister.”

Mestra thought deeply. It was always a place that things became difficult to recall.

“There was pond... and butterflies. Mestra walk... through forest. Mestra find magister. Nothing before. Magister tell Mestra that… Mestra forgotten. Mestra once was filly... grow up... know ponies and learn things... Mestra not remember. Mestra wish Magister... here.”

Sadness met her from both of the other mares.

“We lost somepony too,” Stormy said.

“Yes, dear.”

“Did Stormy have magister?” Mestra asked.

Stormy shook her head, “No, it was my poppa. He was helping build a bridge in the forest, and there was an accident. He died.”

The butterflies now were flittering about the two other mares. Mestra could see in their eyes the beckoning. It had formed as the faintest spark, but it was already growing larger in their gaze. The butterflies were trying to take them away.

“Not follow.”

That seemed to snap them out of the trance into which they were beginning to fall. Thunder crashed outside.

“What do you mean?” Misty asked.

“Do not follow butterflies.”

Stormy looked confused, “Why not? What do they do?”

“Butterflies make… to forget.”

“Forget?” Misty asked.

“Make forget... sad… what make sad.”

The other two looked horrified at the thought of it.

“I’d never want to forget,” Misty said. “It would dishonor his memory.”

Mestra offered a bitter smile at this. The wind and rain only seemed to intensify.

“Stormy, would you get dessert, please.”

The younger mare said nothing as she trotted to the kitchen.

“Mestra, I would very much like to learn more about you. Certainly we can’t send you away in weather like this, so I insist that you stay the night. Tomorrow, we’ll have to discuss what to do.”

“What... to do?”

“I’m afraid so,” Misty hesitated, “I’m not sure we can keep you here indefinitely.“

“Mestra not know... what is indef... def...”

“Indefinitely, it means undetermined or sustained without ending.”

Stormy returned with a somewhat yellow-colored cake with flecks of orange in it. Mestra took one of the small pieces and bit into it. There was sugar and cinnamon that blended perfectly with the carrots. It was incredibly delicious as the sweetness danced across her tongue.

“Carrot cake; it’s my own recipe,” Misty said with a proud smile. “For the night, you will sleep in Stormy’s room. She’ll stay with me. As for a more permanent solution, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Remembering her manners, Mestra said, “Thank you.”

Misty smiled and said, “It’s no trouble.”

After dessert and brushing her teeth like the magister taught her, Mestra took a bath and went to bed. It felt good to be properly clean. The butterflies seemed interested in the other two, but eventually found Mestra again and rested on her pillow.

The forgotten mare’s mind was filled with the events of the day. She had met two new mares that gave her delicious food and a place to sleep inside. It made her glad, but she so very much missed her magister. She wasn’t quite sure, but she felt as if she had made some new friends. The thought of it warmed her heart as she drifted off to sleep.

Comments

[platogkrone]

YES! IT IS FINALLY HERE!

[Jatheus]

9496731
The rest of this arc is already together... just a few finishing touches and I’ll be putting up new chapters soon!