The Forgotten: Friends

by Jatheus

Chapter X

Mestra strayed to consciousness from a dreamlessly peaceful sleep, her senses returning one by one. The wings of her butterflies quietly batting the air was nearly the only sound that disturbed her ears, that and the ambience of an unfamiliar room. She hadn’t noticed it the night before, when the sounds of the storm had been enough to lull her to sleep rather quickly.

The forgotten mare opened her eyes and sat up, taking in her surroundings. The soft bed had been such a delightful contrast to the hard ground upon which she had grown accustomed to sleeping. The house was somewhat larger than the cottage where her magister had lived. The floors were wooden, but the walls were of a white substance she didn’t recognize. Many of the furnishings were of a lavender color.

Her mind soon recalled the two nice mares she had met the previous day, the younger of which had promised to help find Mestra’s family. She let out a long yawn and then stretched out, a faint squeak escaping her muzzle as she did so. Upon standing, the butterflies quickly found their perch in her mane. She giggled quietly as they tickled her scalp. She exited the room, finding Stormy and Misty already buzzing about the house.

“Good morning!” Misty greeted with cheer.

Stormy looked up with bloodshot eyes and scratched her unkept mane, hardly nodding a greeting at their guest. Mestra approached them.

“Ah!” she returned the salutation.

They sat down to a breakfast of oats and hay, which was so dry that Mestra drank quite a bit of water to get it down without coughing.

“What do you plan to do today?” Misty asked.

Bringing her thoughts into focus and forming words, the forgotten mare made her reply, “Stormy take… Mestra find… family?”

Stormy made something of a grunt, but kept her focus on breakfast.

“She has to go to school first. It’ll be most of the day before she can help you.”

“School… where learn things?”

“Yes.”

“Mestra… go school? Mestra no have be to school.”

The other two exchanged a glanced. Stormy shrugged.

Misty seemed hesitant, “I don’t know whether Miss Acumen would allow you to stay. When she taught my classes, she certainly didn’t like distractions.”

“Mestra be quiet.”

“I suppose there’s no harm in asking. If you also accompany Stormy to work, I’m sure they could use you there. If you’re willing to help with some of the expenses, you might be able to stay with us while you are in town.”

“Ah...” Mestra wasn’t quite sure what Misty meant.

“That’s right,” Misty said to herself, “no concept of money.” Refocusing on Mestra, she added, “I’ll explain that to you later. For now, just follow Stormy.”

“Ah!”

Mestra felt quite excited for the coming day. Not only would she have the opportunity to begin her search in earnest, but she would get to see a school for the first time. Her mind was already buzzing with wonder at the things she might learn.

“Look at the time!” Misty exclaimed. “I have to go, and you two had best hurry if you don’t want to be late. Run a brush through that mane before you leave this house,” she directed at her daughter.

Stormy grunted as she stuffed the last of her breakfast into her muzzle and stood, leaving the table with her mouth full of food. She returned a moment later, brushing her mane quickly. She dropped the brush on the table, grabbed a faded and worn lavender saddle bag that looked a size too small, and headed for the door.

She turned and spoke around the food she was chewing, “Cmm on, rr wll be late.”

Mestra stood and followed, noticing a daisy print on the center of the flap cover on the saddle bags as she drew close. The pair exited the house and were soon walking through town.

The rain from the previous night had spent itself, leaving the land quite well soaked. Puddles had formed everywhere, and water still dripped from rooftops in the morning light. The forgotten mare felt somewhat awed by how many houses were built so close together.

Each street they passed brought more wonder than the last. In an area far smaller than the foraging paths she’d learned when she’d lived in the woods, there easily could have lived several hundred other ponies. Overwhelming as the town became with each passing step, it wasn’t until they came to a small stream that Mestra stopped.

The wooden bridge that arched its way across the little brook would have seemed commonplace enough to most, but Mestra had never seen anything like it. Rather than crossing, she went down underneath to investigate. She was amazed to discover that there were no pillars or supports holding the structure in place. The ground was soggy and wet beneath, a sort of thick mud in which she was tempted to leap with reckless abandon. Stormy’s voice made her think better of it.

“What are you doing?” her friend asked, approaching from behind and also sinking slightly in the boggy loam.

“Ah?” Mestra pointed at the arch overhead.

“The bridge?”

“Ah... is... bridge... How stay... up?”

Stormy’s brow furrowed, “It’s an arch. It’s supposed to stay up.”

Mestra was not at all satisfied with the answer, and tried to rethink the question. Stormy did not wait for her to do so.

“Look, we have to go. We’re going to be late.”

Mestra tilted her head to one side, “Mestra not know what is a late.”

“Come on,” Stormy said, walking back to cross the bridge.

Mestra followed, feeling somewhat confused by Stormy’s reaction. Their hooves made a deep thumping against the oaken deck of the bridge. As they reached the crest of it, the forgotten mare was amazed how far she could see. It was not unlike being upon a large hill. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang.

“Nightmare Moon!” Stormy swore under her breath. “Hurry!”

She took off at a gallop, not waiting for Mestra, who also began running when she realized she would be left behind. She followed Stormy at their quickened pace past shops with various scents, most notably that of freshly baked bread, which greeted them as they raced by.

Coming around a corner, a large building came into view. Unlike many of the others, it was not constructed of wood but of a rich yellow brick instead. It also stood somewhat taller, with windows up high in a second row above the first. Atop the roof at the center was a small bell tower. Not so much as pausing, the pair hurtled toward the entrance.

Stormy still leading the way, they went inside the school house, finding themselves in a corridor with hooks lining the walls on either side. All along the hallway were pairs of muddy rain boots. Not having worn such, neither Stormy nor Mestra had any choice but to track the mud with them. They climbed the stairs to the second level, passing two classrooms on the lower floor.

The corridor at the top of the stairs was similar in appearance. The scent of old polished wood permeated the air. The two raced down half the length of the upper level hall and arrived to find a closed door. Stormy muttered something inaudible as she opened it. Mestra followed her inside.

There were two-dozen or so students seated at desks all facing the front of the room. They appeared to be the same age as Stormy. A lone elder mare stood at a blackboard at the front, near where the tardy duo entered. All eyes of the students darted to them as the teacher continued speaking.

“... the perimeter. Now the area of a triangle is not quite so simple as that of a rectangle.”

The elder earth pony paused, turning around to face the newcomers.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Stormy mumbled.

“Stormy Nocturne,” the older mare looked over her glasses, “What is so important that you not only arrive tardy, but are also tracking mud through my classroom?”

She motioned for Mestra to step forward. “This is Mestra; what was the rest of your name?”

“Amymone.”

“She will be staying with my mom and I, and she wanted to see the school.”

Turning a steely gaze to the forgotten mare, she sized her up in a moment and spoke sternly, “You may sit there. I will not tolerate disruptions to the lessons.”

Mestra felt herself shrinking away in fear, uncertain how to respond to such posturing.

A stallion in the back of the room piped up, “Where did you find a stray?”

The students giggled, and Mestra felt her face grow hot. She sat down, hoping to disappear.

“One more word, Verdant Thicket, and I’ll have you cleaning the mud from the hallways this afternoon.” Turning back to Stormy, “Do you need an invitation to take your seat, Miss Nocturne?”

“No ma’am,” Stormy said as she quickly shuffled to her desk near the back of the room.

“Now, as I was saying, the area of a triangle is not so simple as that of a rectangle. As a refresher, who can tell me the formula for the area of a rectangle?”

Hooves shot up.

“Bluebonnet Lace.”

A blue mare with an almost white mane stood, a gleam in her yellow eyes, “To find the area of a rectangle, multiply the length by the width.”

“Correct. Why won’t that work for a triangle? Any pony? Stormy.”

The black mare stood and spoke somewhat sarcastically, “Because it isn’t the same shape.”

The teacher’s eyes narrowed, “For a right triangle, if you duplicate it and flip one over so that the ninety degree angles are opposite each other, what will you have?”

Stormy thought it through as it was being drawn in chalk.

“A rectangle,” she got out before the picture was complete.

“Correct. Can you find the area of this triangle?”

“I guess.”

“Tell me.”

Stormy regarded the drawing a moment, “Well in this case, you could multiply the length and width, and... then divide that answer by two.”

“Very good.”

Stormy sat down as the teacher continued.

“Now, not all triangles have a right angle, and so you can’t simply make a rectangle from them, but I used the example to show you that relationship. To find the area of every triangle, you need to multiply half of the base by the height. You can choose any side to be the base.”

Mestra’s head was already hurting from the lesson, having not learned much about mathematics apart from simple counting and subtraction. She did her best to instead pay attention to other details. She was fascinated how the teacher commanded the attention of the students. Most of them did look at Mestra with curiosity when they could steal a glance. For her own part, the forgotten mare was already far too afraid of the older mare behind the horn-rimmed glasses to cause any sort of distraction.

In spite of her best efforts, Mestra was unable to keep interest in the goings on for long and fell asleep, no doubt due to exhaustion from her journey. She thought she heard her butterflies batting about her ears, but was surprised awake by the students packing up their saddle bags.

It was only moments later before the forgotten mare found herself surrounded by young mares and stallions. They seemed friendly but bombarded her with questions more quickly than she was able to respond.

“Who are you?”

“Where are you from?”

“How did you meet Stormy?”

“Why did you want to see the school?”

She blinked, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. She attempted to form a response.

“Mestra... from forest. Mestra no... do be school. Mestra meet Stormy... from forest... ground water.”

“Wow, where did you learn how to talk?” a stallion snickered.

It was the one the teacher had addressed as Verdant Thicket. Mestra didn’t completely understand the teasing, but she found something in his tone demeaning. It struck a nerve, wounding her within; before she could think, tears burst from her eyes.

Murmuring ran through the students like a wildfire through a dry under-story. They were quickly silenced by the teacher, who had been standing just outside the crowd and paying close attention.

“Verdant Thicket! As you seem bent on causing trouble today, you will assist with cleanup of the classroom and the corridors immediately.”

“Aww, come on! I was just teasing.”

Silence fell over the group, and several students quietly made an escape into the hallway. The teacher eyed Verdant Thicket with her steely gaze.

“Yes, Miss Acumen,” the young stallion finally muttered.

He reluctantly got to work while the others exited. Stormy brought Bluebonnet Lace over.

“Mestra, are you okay?”

Drying her eyes, she simply answered, “Ah.”

“This is my friend, Bluebonnet Lace.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Mestra happy... meet Blue... bonnet Lace.”

Stormy was about to say something but was interrupted by Miss Acumen.

“Mestra Amymone, is it? For the species of butterfly?”

“Ah! Mestra name... gived from Magister.”

The teacher pursed her lips and addressed Stormy, “Your grades have been slipping. Starting tomorrow, I expect you in class an hour early for extra assignments.”

“That’s not fair!” Stormy objected.

“Perhaps if you spent your time studying rather than flirting,” she shot a glance at Verdant Thicket, “your marks would be better.”

Stormy’s face gained a red hue.

Turning to Mestra, Miss Acumen continued, “I’m surprised your command of syntax is not much higher, considering you studied under a magister. You’d do well to accompany your friend when she comes early; I can help you improve your language skills.”

“Ah,” Mestra replied.

Without another word, the teacher walked away. Stormy held Verdant Thicket in her gaze for a long moment before the three young mares made their way to the safety of the outdoors.

“She must be the most difficult teacher in Equestria,” Bluebonnet Lace sighed.

Stormy chided, “Big help you were in there.”

“You’re joking! She was tearing every pony apart today. I wasn’t about to get in the middle of that. You’re lucky she didn’t have you cleaning too.”

“She’d never keep me and Verde at the same time,” Stormy kicked the ground as they walked.

“What do you even see in him anyway?”

Stormy shrugged, “He can be sweet... when he wants to. He just doesn’t like most ponies enough to try.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Bluebonnet asked, “Want to come hang out? My dad’s grilling hayburgers. You can both come,” she added uncertainly.

“I can’t. I have to work.”

Bluebonnet Lace seemed disappointed, “Maybe next time, then. Bye!”

“Later.”

“Ah!” Mestra chimed in.

The pair crossed the bridge, turned off of the path that would have led home, and walked until the houses thinned. Mestra was amazed to see fields of berries stretching off into the distance. When she’d learned to forage for food, she’d never seen anything like it. A bush here or there, a pair of fruit trees perhaps, but this one field had more berries than the mare could have eaten in a year.

“Ah...”

Stormy snorted a laugh, “I think the word you’re looking for is, ‘wow.’”

“Wow...”

Mestra’s butterflies took to the air, cheerfully darting amongst the neatly arranged flora. School had been something of a mystery, but even though she’d never seen a field such as this, Mestra knew what to do here. It was a comfort that the part of the day she had been most concerned with was more familiar than the part to which she’d been looking forward. After checking in with the forepony, Stormy and Mestra took a bucket each and got to work.