A mare loses her memory and begins a quest of self-discovery.
When a mare loses her memory, even down to her ability to speak, she is taken in by an old unicorn and taught how to function and take care of herself. This is the beginning of her quest of self-discovery to regain what she has lost.
This story is based on an original concept by Marrow-Pony. https://www.deviantart.com/marrow-pony His artwork and concept used by permission. Story by me.
Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria…
The mare gazed by moonlight into the smooth surface of the unmoving pool that lay before her. Only the faintest hint of ripples disturbed the otherwise glassy surface. No doubt some gust of breeze or insect, perhaps even fish beneath had caused the flutter. Yet the mare didn’t have the presence of mind to be aware of any of these things.
She stared blankly, taking in her reflection. Blue eyes stared back at her from the face, a pony’s face. Gray fur made up her coat, and atop her head was a long and flowing, though somewhat unkempt mane of peach or salmon.
Though, she was uncertain as to the meaning of what she saw. Even for how long she had sat growing colder in the chilled air, she had no idea. There was only the moment and a feeling, an unpleasant sensation like a passing sorrow that was fading from her mind.
Looking up from the waters, she saw more of the wooded area that surrounded her, bathed in the same silvery light from above. It was filled with trees that anypony would consider unique. They bore long thin tendrils, much like a weeping willow. Leaves hung lazily down the length of the tendrils and luminesced golden.
A flapping tickled the mare’s ears, and she turned to her left to discover four sets of glowing leaves that had abandoned their tree and were flitting about on their own. She didn’t have the presence of mind to comprehend that in actuality they were not leaves at all; they were butterflies.
A smile contorted her face at the jovial way they danced through the air. The mare stood, more out of instinct than intent, and began to follow them.
Through a lush forested area, the mare pursued the butterflies in the night. They were rather mesmerizing to behold. As they walked, the forest changed. It was as if a fog had covered everything, obscuring all for a moment. Dawn broke the horizon and illuminated this new place as the haze cleared. The trees seemed shorter, and much larger and ornate. There were others beings there as well, moving about on legs as she was.
She didn’t recognize any of them, and they went in and out of the large straw covered trees. They somewhat reminded her of the face that she’d seen in the pond, though they were all different shapes and colors. Some of them looked at her and smiled. Most simply passed by, ignoring the mare entirely.
The butterflies entered one of the large square trees through a rectangular opening. The mare followed them inside. It was a quiet place, and yet, it seemed like it should be familiar. The mare looked around at the various ornaments and decorations. The shape of the interior was inorganic with many flat surfaces and corners.
One thing that did catch her attention was an image, smaller than the reflection in the pond, bound with a similar glassy surface and bordered by a shiny cold material. There were two smiling faces. One looked like the same face she’d seen in the pond, but she didn’t recognize the other.
Almost escaping her attention, the butterflies took flight again and made for the door. The mare followed. Her little companions stopped, flying in place in a pattern where they circled each other for a few moments, and then they continued on again.
The mare followed the butterflies until there was nopony around. They found themselves in another haze before another forest, somewhat more like the one where the pond had been. The odd group continued deep into the wooded area. The chilly air bit at the pony’s nose and ears.
A light grumble worked its way through the mare’s stomach just as they came to something curious. Much like the strange square trees they’d found before, there was another one there in front of them. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from the chimney, disappearing into the sky.
A gust of cold wind tickled the tree tops, making them sway above. Needles and leaves dropped, a harbinger of the coming change. The mare began shivering, an unpleasant sensation she could not remember experiencing before.
Still in pursuit of the butterflies, she would have continued deeper into the woods but for a sound that caught her ears. She turned to face the cottage as the door creaked open, seemingly of its own accord.
The butterflies stopped, flitting about in place as the mare gazed at the darkness of the nearby doorway. She stood starting at it just as her teeth began chattering all on their own. From within the darkness of the structure, an old and seasoned stallion’s voice called out.
“Come in out of that cold!”
Having no memories to draw on, the mare also had no fear. She was interested to see where the strange noises had originated, and she walked forward into the little house without so much as the slightest hesitation. She had only curiosity, and the butterflies, which followed her inside.
It took her eyes moments to adjust as the door creaked shut. It was much warmer inside, thanks to a warm flickering glow nearby. What she saw next was an old unicorn. His mane had gone gray from age, and patches of white were throughout his dark coat. The unmistakable scent of decay was in the house. The old stallion moved away, sitting in a chair by the fire.
"You can get warm too if you like," he invited cordially, his green eyes had a kindness to them.
She, however, was content to simply look around for a moment, taking in whatever fell within her sight. An old wooden table and two chairs were near a small window. One of the chairs had a layer of dust coating it. There was also a bed in the corner and a very small kitchen near the hearth. The ancient unicorn regarded her silently while she devoured the layout of his small cabin.
"You're not from around here, are you, young one?" He wore a tired smile now. Tilting his head to one side, he asked, "How is it that you have acquired your butterflies?"
The mare didn't speak, for she still did not know how. She simply smiled at him as a child might. She was happy to have stopped shivering. The unicorn looked at the glowing butterflies again, sniffed the air and nodded slowly.
"I see there is magic at work here. Well, there isn't a thing I can do about that. However, if you're willing to stay and keep an old stallion company this winter, I might be able to offer you something of which I possess a great deal."
She gazed back at him with pure innocence.
"Knowledge," he said with a grin that revealed several missing teeth.
The butterflies fluttered across the room, landing near the old stallion. The mare followed and sat down on the floor, her attention suddenly gained by the heat emanating from the flickering oranges and reds in the stone hearth nearby. It was rather captivating to watch.
“Since you don’t speak, I expect you won’t know your name either,” the old one continued. “I’ll have to think of one for you.”
Just as the mare was about to see if she could hold the flickering, the butterflies took flight again, swiftly coming straight at her face. She backed away, gaining a much safer distance from the fire.
“They seem to care about you… how curious…”
The mare sat down again, the butterflies this time landing on top of her head. The old unicorn grinned once more.
“I suppose it would be no harm in naming you for the kin of your little friends there, especially as your cutie mark looks just like them. I expect that is a result of the magic that drained your memories and not a coincidence. Back where I was a colt, we had the most beautiful type that shared the golden color, though, they were not magical.” He took a breath, “You shall be known as Mestra Amymone.”
The mare looked up to the speaking stallion, not understanding any of his words but finding his voice comforting.
“I’m not angry, Mestra,” the elder stallion seethed as he scrubbed the wooden floor of the cottage. “There are many things to which you must still become accustomed. Until you do… until you learn to understand the things your body is telling you, these things will happen…”
The mare, of course, did not understand most of the words that Magister used. Since they had met a few weeks before, he had constantly used new and different words. She had learned several of them, but it seemed the wellspring from which he drew them had no end.
She was becoming better at reading the unicorn’s moods, and despite the fact that he had used the words ‘not angry’, she was fairly certain that he was upset with her. She hadn’t intended to make a mess on the floor. By the time she’d realized it was happening, it had been too late.
The salt-and-pepper stallion stood, his work completed, and washed up. He drew out a small ladder and pulled a small green ceramic jar from one of the upper cupboards. Placing it on the table, he drew a candy from within and took into his mouth. A blissful smile twisted his face.
“Aaaahhh…” Mestra Amymone vocalized, reaching toward the jar.
“I’m just rewarding myself for the cleanup. It makes unpleasant tasks easier.”
“Aaahh!” she made her motion much sharper.
“Mestra, we have been over this,” Magister sighed patiently. “Use your words.”
The mare frowned and grunted, looking around for something to help her memory. Her butterflies were sitting above the fireplace, all basking in the warmth together. Mestra began working through the few words that she knew, trying to remember what they were supposed to mean.
She decided on a few and began, “Magister… candy… give.”
Her mentor smiled, delivering the request to the mare, which she greedily accepted.
“Good enough, Mestra.”
Her brain hurt a little from the effort, but any discomfort was quickly washed away by the sweetness of the hardened caramel against her tongue. She knew not to try and chew it up, as it was just to be sucked on until it dissolved. Magister put the jar and stepladder away.
Something caught the stallion’s attention, and he was drawn to the little window beside the door. A grin worked its way upon his face. Without a word, he went back to one of the closets and began rummaging around.
Mestra ambled over to her sleepy butterflies. Aside from an occasional opening or closing of wings, they sat perfectly still. Magister approached from behind, and the mare turned to face him.
He wore scuffed black boots, a green scarf, and a faded black knit cap. He also had a few items for her, a white hat similar to his own, a blue scarf, and boots. After getting her into hat and scarf, Magister gave up on the boots as she didn’t like their constricting feel and kept kicking them off, but the mare was content to wear the hat and scarf. The pair went to the door.
Magister stopped and spoke, “Mestra, there’s something outside that you need to see.”
Opening the door, it took a moment for the mare’s eyes to adjust, and she nearly choked on her candy when she saw how the land had been transformed. She followed the stallion outside, and the white blanket that covered everything crunched beneath her bare hooves, sending a shiver through her body as the cold assaulted her senses.
“It’s the first snow,” Magister grinned again.
An exuberance took over the mare, and she darted through the little clearing that was in front of the cottage, before stopping and turning back to the sound of Magister laughing. She spun and galloped around the perimeter of the area as fresh flakes of snow fell from the sky.
Her butterflies also came outside and began swirling around the mare as she charged back and forth, eventually flinging herself down on the soft bed of white into which her hooves had been sinking. The cold bit at her much more quickly when she did that, compelling her to stand again and shake the snow from her coat.
Magister had been busy, and now his efforts caught her attention. She padded through the snow toward him; it was not stinging her hooves as badly, but they were beginning to get numb.
“Aaaahhh?” the mare vocalized.
“Use your words, Mestra,” her mentor said calmly without so much as looking up at her.
He had been piling the snow up as if he were building something. She tried to remember the word for this. Presently, it escaped her. One word did come to mind, but she didn’t know if it was correct, so she decided to try it anyway.
“Magister… which?”
“Which? Did you mean, what?”
She nodded, “Ah!”
“Look,” he said as he made his finishing touches. “It’s a snow-pony.”
“What…”
Magister shrugged and smiled, “It’s just for fun, Mestra.”
She turned, beginning to shiver, and noticed from the door and everywhere she’d run, there were deep impressions in the snow. She leaned down to inspect the nearest set.
“Those are your hoof-prints, Mestra. They let you know where you’ve been. You can use them to find your way back.” He snorted, “I suppose memories are not dissimilar.”
As usual, Mestra Amymone didn’t understand most of what Magister was saying. She began shivering, just as she had when she’d first found his cabin.
“You should have worn the boots,” his smile faded somewhat. “Let’s head back inside and get you warmed up.”
The odd little group was soon inside again, the butterflies resting by the fireplace and Mestra basking in the heat as well. She decided that she liked the snow.
Mestra Amymone crept through the cottage. She suspected that Magister had fallen asleep as he often did in the early afternoon. These times were especially boring for her, as she didn’t get sleepy until nighttime. Though he had warned her to not go outside alone, she had taken to doing just that on those long afternoons. It was more out of an innocent foolishness than a tendency to rebelliousness.
On these excursions in the middle of the bright winter days, she would practice the few words that she knew, repeating them over and over to the butterflies that were her constant companions. She could see her breath on the cold air and wondered whether those were her words that she saw. Of course, butterflies don't ever talk to ponies; Mestra Amymone wasn't certain whether they were unable or simply had nothing to say.
The weather being particularly cold out, the mare found her favorite set of clothes to insulate herself against the elements, a red sweater, white crochet hat to keep her ears warm, a light blue scarf and black rubber boots. She had initially resisted having anything over her hooves, but she wouldn’t be able to walk far without going numb if she didn’t wear them.
Were she a suspicious pony, she might have wondered why the old unicorn had mare's clothes in her size. However, Mestra Amymone simply accepted the world as it lay before her. Now dressed for the cold, she cast a final glance back at Magister, sitting in his chair by the fire. His eyes were closed in a peaceful afternoon slumber, his chest slowly rose and fell with each breath.
She softly exited the cabin, being careful to not open the door too far, as it would creak rather loudly. Shutting it quietly, Mestra Amymone and her butterfly companions found themselves in a snow covered landscape, brilliantly illuminated by the sunlight that came though the naked branches of the trees.
She walked, crunching the snow beneath her booted hooves. The sound of it was a most pleasant munching. She never worried about getting lost, because her hoof-prints always led the way home.
Once the cabin was out of sight, Mestra Amymone began practicing her words, speaking them to the butterflies as they flittered about her. She walked, enjoying the brisk bite of the wind against her face, and watching her words as they floated away like little puffs of cloud. It made her wonder who was speaking to create the big clouds that hung in the sky up above the trees. Whoever it was, she knew that they were angry sometimes, because she could hear them. Those times were particularly frightening, as the booming voice thundered so loudly. There was little chance of that today. It seemed to only happen when dark clouds filled the sky.
Mestra Amymone stopped suddenly when her hooves didn't make the right sound. Instead of the soft crunching of snow, one of her boots made a clacking noise. Her hooves also didn't sink like she expected. Looking down, she discovered a new kind of ground. It was very hard but smooth. It stretched out in front of her, and no trees grew in this place. They were all around, but there were none in this perfectly flat clearing.
She stepped forward and the world spun a moment; Mestra Amymone felt almost giddy as she lost all traction and fell hard to the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quietly swallowed them. Her side ached where she had fallen, but it only hurt a little. This was a very slippery place! With care, she began trying to stand again. It was difficult, but with some effort, she made it back onto her hooves. This time, she was much more cautious as she moved about on this strange surface.
It didn't take Mestra Amymone long to discover that she could keep her balance and slide around. It was exhilarating! She would pick up speed, as carefully as she could, and then stop, sliding for quite a distance before stopping. After a while, she began to learn that she could also move her hooves and turn. She took to this quickly and zipped around with her companions. It must have been what it was like for her butterflies to move through the air.
A loud cracking sound startled Mestra Amymone, and she froze in place, eventually sliding to a stop. She didn't know what it was, but she could see in all directions. She was in the middle of the clearing, so nothing could sneak up on her. The wiser course seemed to be returning to the cabin. There were no hoof-prints directly around her, but she quickly located the set she had left in the snow.
As she took a step, she heard another loud cracking sound; it was coming from below her. The ground shifted, and a long, splintery fissure opened up. Not knowing what this meant or what to do, she made a final attempt to move. The ground split beneath, and she fell into it.
It felt as though Mestra Amymone had just been stabbed by knives all over. She tried to cry out, but bubbles escaped, and then the icy water poured into her mouth and lungs, stinging her eyes, freezing and burning her. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened as blinding panic overwhelmed her for a moment and drove rational thought from mind.
She lost precious moments before coming back to herself, her heart racing. There was no solid ground below, but she could see light above. She thrashed and kicked and did everything she could to reach up toward it. Her head broke the surface with much coughing and sputtering. She barely had time to take a breath before she went down again. Her heart was pounding, and the sound of blood rushing in her ears was deafening. She tried to remain calm, but she was shaking all over. She did not like this place, not at all.
Through the same efforts, Mestra Amymone once again made it to the surface. She had the presence of mind to remember a single word that Magister had taught her. He told her to use it if she ever needed him. Drawing in another lungful of air, she felt herself going down again.
Mestra Amymone screamed as loudly as she could, "HELP!"
Then the water was all around again. She couldn't feel her hooves, and the pain of the frigid water didn't seem as bad now. She was choking on it, but it was all she could do to fight to reach the surface again. This time, as she came up, she tried to climb back onto the solid ice again. It broke off under her weight. She managed to keep her head up, kicking hard and pulling at smaller pieces of the shattered ground that seemed able to stay on top of the water.
Unable to even find her butterflies, she cried out again, "HELP!"
Then another piece of the ground gave way beneath her, and she plunged into the water. She suddenly felt rather confused. It was difficult to remember why she was struggling so. She shook her head but realized it was no good. She couldn't overcome the water. Her muscles ached and her legs didn't want to respond anymore. This would be her last attempt to get back on solid ground, and the forgotten pony knew it.
Finding the sweet taste of air once more, the distressed mare managed to grab the icy edge. She didn't try to climb out this time but was able to support herself on it enough to keep her head out of the water. She was crying now, because nopony had come. She had used the word that Magister had taught her, but nothing happened. She was alone, tired, and numb from head to hoof.
Just then, the ground fell away, and Mestra Amymone felt herself floating up into the air. Her butterflies swirled around her and her perception of reality seemed to be fading away. It was almost like dreaming as she soared slowly through the air.
She landed on the snowy bank and with great heaving threw up the water that had been inside her lungs. She looked up to see the old unicorn, a sweat on his brow and a look of weary terror on his face. He wasted not a second as he picked her up, she was like jelly, but he managed to get her onto his back.
The trip back to the cabin was miserable, but Magister never stopped for even a moment. They burst inside, and he very quickly stripped the soaked woolen clothes from the mare and began adding logs to the fire. He left her for a moment and then returned with a large towel and began drying her off. It was rather a strange thing; the fire should have been warm, it always was, but Mestra Amymone couldn't feel it; she could barely feel the towel. The old unicorn used a second towel and continued vigorously rubbing her down, starting at her head, and working his way down each leg in turn.
It was nearly a half hour before she felt anything. It began with a prickling like sharp needles piercing her body that was accompanied by violent shivering. Eventually, the feeling worked its way down to her hooves, but it hurt significantly more by the time it got there. The old unicorn brought some hot chocolate as soon as she stopped shaking enough to hold it. He had been crying.
"Please," he said, his gruff voice somehow very soft this time, "Don't leave like that again."
Mestra Amymone nodded quickly at this request, deciding that there was quite a lot more she needed to learn before it would be safe to go outside on her own again. The old unicorn cleared his throat and began tending to the soaked clothes that were on the floor. He stopped.
“I... I’m glad you’re safe.”
He looked back at her a moment, his eyes glistening with what looked like sorrow before he wrung out the sweater, scarf, and hat and hung them on the opposite end of the room to dry.
The cold of winter gave way to the new life of spring. Trees budded new leaves and fruit, flowers bloomed, and birds returned to the forest to sing their cheerful songs. Mestra Amymone strode alongside Magister, each with saddle-bags half-laden with various fruits they had collected. The one type that really stood out to the mare most were the apricots.
The orange-red skin had the appearance of fire. The juicy sweetness was a wonder to the mare, truly remarkable of all the things she’d experienced in her short memory. The experience of falling through ice some months before had left her far more timid, and she hadn’t left Magister’s side since. Her butterflies had been scouting about nearby, attracted by the flora. The stallion coughed.
“You… is… okay?” Mestra asked.
“Yes, Mestra. The spring air is fresh, but some of the things in it irritate my old lungs. The proper way to ask that is, ‘Are you okay?’.”
“Are…”
The old unicorn stopped, something having caught his attention. He stooped down.
“Scallions. These will be useful.”
“Scal… scalleeons?”
“Scallions. They are of the onion family,” he held them up for her to see. “I wouldn’t recommend eating them plain. They are best used to flavor other things in cooking.”
“Aaah… ingredient?”
Magister smiled. It always warmed Mestra’s heart to see him pleased with her.
“That’s right, Mestra. Very good.”
She felt a smile grow on her own face as the pair continued walking. It was several hours before they completed their circuit, eventually returning to the cabin.
“Here we are,” the stallion panted. “I for one am ready to sit these old bones down for a while.”
“Home…”
“Yes, Mestra, this is home.”
She stopped, a thought growing in her mind as she cocked her head to one side as she regarded the quaint little cottage. Magister also stopped, turning back to face her. He didn’t speak, but waited for her to do so.
“Are this, my home?”
“Is this your home? Yes, Mestra. We’ll have to work on your verbs some more.”
“Why?”
“You don’t quite have subject agreement yet.”
“No… why… is? Why is… my home?”
“Because you live here.”
The mare’s brow furrowed as her butterflies returned, landing on her back. She was not satisfied with the answer, and she realized that Magister hadn’t yet understood what she was attempting to ask. He didn’t continue on, but simply stood there as if waiting for her to say more.
“Why… I live… here?”
Magister pursed his lips as he did while he was in thought. He hummed and nodded slowly, his green eyes looking away to nothing in particular. For a moment, it looked as if a pained expression crossed his face. The butterflies took flight, flittering about Magister’s head as he continued thinking. He ignored them, his eyes finding the mare again before he spoke.
“That is a story, I’m sure. However, I’m afraid there are some things of which I have little knowledge.”
Mestra almost stepped backward, shocked by the revelation that there were things that her mentor might not know. Surely he had never misled her to think such, but he had taught her so many things since they’d found each other on that cold day.
“Mestra, you came to me from the forest, do you remember?”
“Aah,” she nodded.
“Use your words, please.”
“Yes.”
Magister smiled, “I had never seen you before that day. Do you remember where you came from before?”
The mare put her brain to work, trying to remember back, but it had become foggy in her mind. The previous few minutes she seemed able to remember with great clarity, but that first day was much more difficult. She remembered finding the cabin, and Magister calling to her, though she hadn’t understood his words at the time.
Before that, she had some vague recollections, almost like dreams of other ponies and houses with thatched roof tops, and a photo. Her butterflies were also there. As for what the place had been, Mestra simply couldn’t remember.
Magister coughed again. Mestra Amymone finally shrugged and shook her head, then let it fall toward the ground in disappointment.
“It’s alright, Mestra. I didn’t expect you to know that.”
She looked back up at him.
“This is your home because you had no other. When you came, I could tell that you didn’t know anything, a curious state for an adult mare to say the least. I couldn’t let you wander off into the forest like that.”
“Danger… dangerous?”
“Oh yes. Very dangerous. Knowledge and experience can be used to protect you from danger. You are giving me companionship, and a bit more purpose than I’ve had the past few years. I’m giving you knowledge. Life gives you experience.”
“I… stay home?”
Magister smiled, “Yes, Mestra. You can stay here with me as long as you like. I expect some day you may want to see more of the world, but know that you’ll always be welcome and have a place here.”
Mestra felt warmed inside, “I… never leave Magister!”
The old stallion smiled at her, but he looked down.
“Come on, Mestra. We need to get this fruit put away. I’ll teach you some cooking tonight, but first, we are going to work on writing and numbers.”
“Aah!”
Magister chuckled as she followed him into their home. Mestra felt something for perhaps the first time: a sense of belonging. She didn’t know much about the world, but she knew that she had a place in it, a place to call home.
