The Forgotten: Friends

Chapters

Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI

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.

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.

Chapter XI

Stormy and Bluebonnet walked alongside Mestra Amymone on a clear autumn day, her butterflies scouting just ahead of them. School had only ended minutes before, and the trio were on their way home.

“Some of us are getting together at my house if you want to come,” Bluebonnet offered.

Mestra had been to her house only once, and so far as she knew, that was the only time Stormy had been there since she’d arrived in Hollow Shades. True to her word, Stormy had been taking Mestra around the town in search of any of the forgotten mare’s friends or family. So far, none had recognized her.

“I don’t know if we can,” Stormy apologized. “I mean, I would, but Mestra has apparently never celebrated Nightmare Night before, so my mom volunteered me to put on a costume and take her.”

“Aren’t both of you a little too old for that?”

Stormy sighed, “Yes, but my mom wouldn’t give in. She just kept going on about how Mestra doesn’t have those memories, so we need to help her make them.” Looking up to the mare in question, she added, “No offense.”

“Uh!” came an ignorantly cheerful reply.

“I’d be pretty upset if I had... charity chores on my birthday.”

“At least I get candy,” Stormy rolled her eyes. “On the upside I don’t have to pick berries all afternoon.”

Mestra had been excited for Nightmare Night ever since they’d told her about the candy that she could have just for dressing up. She was also glad for the vacation from working in the fields. She had developed sore muscles after the first day, an unpleasant condition that passed eventually.

“You need a proper celebration.”

Stormy shrugged, “I’m kind of used to it by now. Nightmare Night has always eclipsed my birthday.”

Mestra perked up at the use of a word which was unfamiliar, “Eek... clips?”

“Eclipse,” Stormy answered, “Like when the moon passes in front of the sun and hides it.”

“Well, I think I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“You know, you could always come with us,” Stormy observed.

Bluebonnet snorted, “And hang out with all the little colts and fillies? No, thanks.”

Stormy’s friend turned and walked away. Mestra was almost certain she saw Bluebonnet Lace glance back at them and then take off at a gallop just before passing out of sight. The pair continued in silence until they arrived back at the house. Memories of butterscotch hard candies that her magister would sometimes share tantalized and fostered no small amount of anticipation.

Stormy opened the door and went in first.

“Surprise!” several voices rang out.

Stormy seemed as startled as Mestra felt, her body shuddering from fright. Her butterflies, which had flittered off, were suddenly back in front of Mestra’s face. She waved them away and saw Stormy grinning widely.

“You guys!”

“Happy birthday!” the group shouted in unison.

Misty was holding a cake topped with burning candles, standing at the center of a small group that included Verdant Thicket, Bluebonnet Lace, and a few of Stormy’s other classmates.

“Ah?” Mestra called.

Stormy didn’t seem to notice, but continued toward the others as Misty placed the cake on the dining table. The others sang a song again using the unfamiliar word ‘birthday’, about which Mestra intended to ask. They all wore brightly-colored pointy hats, and Verdant Thicket put one on Stormy.

“Make a wish!” Misty said.

Stormy blew the candles out, and the group cheered.

“What did you wish for?” Bluebonnet asked.

“Come now!” Misty interjected, “If you tell everypony, it won’t come true!”

Stormy rolled her eyes. Mestra found herself shrinking into the corner, being ignored by the group. Her butterflies swirled around, taking up their usual position on her mane.

Boxes wrapped with shiny paper and topped with ribbons were brought out, and Stormy tore into them. From Bluebonnet Lace, she received a ‘makeover kit’ that contained items for mane and tail grooming, as well as polishing one’s hooves and makeup.

From Verdant Thicket, she received a crudely homemade book of ‘kissing coupons’. Mestra wasn’t certain what that meant, but Stormy seemed as embarrassed to open it in front of the group as Misty seemed angered by it. They were quickly put aside.

From her mother, Stormy received new saddle bags, similar in color to her old set through which she had worn holes significant enough to lose smaller items. The new bags were large enough for an adult mare, and bore no flowery decorations.

It was at the end of the presents that Stormy noticed Mestra standing alone in the corner. She didn’t immediately approach, but made the first cut in the cake. It was only after Misty took over that Stormy crossed the room.

“Are you alright?”

“Ah.”

“Why are you standing over here by yourself?”

Mestra felt her brow furrow, “Mestra know not what go on.”

“Really?” Stormy seemed surprised, “It’s a birthday party.”

“Mestra know not what is a birthday.”

The room seemed to grow quiet, and all eyes were drawn to the pair.

“Well, I can explain in a bit. For now, come join us,” Stormy said.

She removed her party hat and put it on Mestra, displacing her quartet of butterflies. She then hooked one of her forelegs around one of Mestra’s, guiding her to the party. The forgotten mare stepped up to the table, and Stormy passed her a piece of cake. It was red with white icing. The sweetness of it was delightful, but Mestra was far more moved by Stormy’s effort to include her in the goings on.

“Were you surprised?” Misty asked.

“Are you kidding? I had no idea!” Stormy laughed.

Bluebonnet Lace grinned, “We’ve been planning to do this for months.”

“Since last year,” Verdant Thicket added.

“Well, I think it’s perfect!” Stormy praised everypony. “But how did you manage to get the ingredients for my favorite kind of cake without me noticing?”

Misty laughed, “That was a challenge. I know you can sniff out the cocoa if I keep it in the house, so I had arranged to take the day off and went to the store as soon as you left this morning.”

“That’s... actually really sneaky, mom.”

“I have my moments,” she smiled back.

“What for is candles?” Mestra asked.

Stormy was quick to answer, “It’s part of the tradition. Sometimes you’ll get one for each year you are older, but eventually that gets kind of tedious.”

“Most ponies I know just use a hoofful of candles instead,” Verdant Thicket added.

The conversation that followed was light, but ended up drifting to the Nightmare Night celebration.

“Never?” Verdant Thicket asked.

“Ah,” Mestra confirmed, “not ever has a Nightmare Night.”

“That’s why I’m taking her,” Stormy shot a glance at her mother.

Misty answered the look, “That’s just how it is, kiddo. To get the day off, I had to volunteer at the salon’s ‘scary hair’ booth in the square, otherwise I could take Mestra.”

“Well, I understand,” Bluebonnet Lace said, “I just wish you could do both.”

“I know,” Stormy said. “I’ll definitely come next time.”

Bluebonnet forced a smile; her eyes betrayed that it held no genuine happiness.

“Well, I can do both,” Verdant Thicket declared. “I have to see this, so I’ll come with you two for a bit and then head over to Bluebonnet’s.”

This time it was Misty that shot a look at Stormy; it seemed like a warning of disapproval. The young mare locked eyes with her mother and then smirked defiantly.

“Sure, Verde, we’d love to have you along for a bit.”

Misty let out a sigh and began clearing the dirty dishes and wrapping paper from the table.

“Speaking of which,” Bluebonnet Lace took the hint, “I think it’s getting time I head that way to get ready for everypony. Don’t forget, you two still have to get dressed up.”

“Oh... that...” Stormy said.

As the others departed, Mestra followed Stormy into the bedroom. Laying across the bed were the two costumes that Misty possessed which would best fit. The larger was in the form of a rabbit, while the smaller, which showed signs of modification to make it larger and repair damage, was that of a carrot. Stormy helped Mestra into the bunny costume, which was a better fit for the forgotten mare.

Looking in the mirror, Mestra thought she looked at least as ridiculous as her friend, though the reddened expression on Stormy’s face was an indication that she might have disagreed. While Mestra didn’t always have social context to know when she should be embarrassed, she was, in this case, able to easily tell from Stormy’s mood that it might be an appropriate reaction to being dressed as a carrot. It made Mestra glad that she was a little larger and better suited to be the bunny, even if the brown color of the fabric was not entirely complimentary.

As the pair emerged, Verdant Thicket and Misty were waiting for them. She stopped cleaning long enough to take in the sight of the pair. A grin was forming on the young stallion’s face.

“Not one word, Verde,” Stormy seethed.

He put a hoof over his mouth to prevent any vocalizations from escaping.

“Don’t be like that,” Misty said, “I think you two are a cute pair!”

Stormy made a low growl. Mestra was uncertain whether she should be concerned, but her friend forced a smile and walked to the door, turning to face Mestra.

“Are you coming?”

“Ah!” the forgotten mare again became excited at the promise of candy.

The costumed couple, with Verdant Thicket trailing close behind, left the house and entered the night. The neighborhood had been transformed into quite a spooky place, with eerie green lights casting shadows across the houses and few trees that were growing in yards. Bands of costumed foals ran to and fro, boldly approaching and knocking on doors with a chant.

“Nightmare night! What a fright! Give us something sweet to bite!”

Mestra was growing more excited by the second as the party made their way to the town square. Stormy had suggested they go directly there, as the games and decorations were always the best, and the quality of the candy would also be much higher. After all, Stormy had argued, they only had so much space in their buckets.

The very air felt alive with electricity as Mestra continued forward, blending in quite well she thought, with everypony else that was out and about. Nothing could have prepared the forgotten mare for the ecstasy of unbridled avarice that she beheld when they reached the square. A mass of ponies and foals milled about. Some played games, others told stories, but all had hordes of delectable sugared morsels.

Mestra’s hooves began stamping in place all on their own as she turned to Stormy, “Mestra want! Want! Want candy!”

“Take it easy!” Stormy let out a giggle, “Follow me.”

They approached a house that had an old oak tree in the front yard. Mestra remembered it from the first day that Stormy had taken her to search for her family, an endeavor that had proven fruitless thus far. The forgotten mare pushed those disappointments from her mind as she licked her lips, salivating at the promise of coming sweetness.

Stormy knocked on the door. It swung open to reveal an older stallion covered in a long black cape, of which the interior was lined in red. His mane was slicked back flat against his head. He waited a moment expectantly. Stormy nudged Mestra, who then remembered the chant.

“Nightmare... night! The... fright... give the... sweet to bite!”

He made a smile, revealing elongated and sharp vampire teeth. The stallion lifted a small container to the pair. Stormy held up her candy bucket, prompting Mestra to do the same. Several pieces of candy were dropped into them. The forgotten mare felt her jaw drop in disbelief.

Even though both Stormy and Misty had both affirmed that this would happen, she had never completely trusted the veracity of their claims. When she’d been living with her magister, she would at most have been given one piece of candy, perhaps two on rare occasions.

“Thank you!” Mestra gushed, eliciting a laugh from the stallion.

As they turned and walked back to Verdant Thicket, who had waited by the road, Mestra dug into her bucket, trying in vain to identify the various types of candies that she had gained. There were five in total, all of which were hard like the toffees with which she was familiar. Some of them bore differing colors within the clear wrappings.

She looked back to Stormy, who had a joyous smirk on her face, “Mestra like!”

“Do you want more?”

“More? Mestra get more?”

The smirk widened into a grin, “Of course! Just about every house you come to will give you at least that much.”

Mestra felt her own eyes widen with delight to the size of saucers, “Ah!”

Verdant Thicket and Stormy laughed. The other two were walking far too slowly for the now overexcited mare to wait, and Misty’s arrival brought them to a halt briefly as she spoke with Stormy. Unable to stay herself, Mestra left the others and charged ahead behind a group of colts and fillies, joining them in their chant at the next house, this one decorated with spiderwebs and other ghoulish adornments. They received marshmallow treats made of puffed rice and drizzled with chocolate. As much as Mestra wanted to dive into her little cache, there were still dozens of houses in the square, and she still had plenty of room in her bucket.

At the next house, the forgotten mare had to walk past an inflatable effigy of Nightmare Moon. It was surprisingly lifelike for how large it stood, making her take a wide course around it. Upon receipt of fare from this house, the chorus of little ones seemed disappointed, and Mestra herself felt almost cheated when they dropped a fresh carrot into her possession. She examined it as she walked, wondering why such a lackluster offering would be made. She looked up too late to realize how close she had come to the Nightmare Moon sentry. She was just about to back away when a figure sprang from behind it with a loud roar.

The gaggle of foals scattered in all directions, and Mestra herself fell to the ground, tripping over her own hooves and landing flat on her back, her little butterflies vaulting into the air just in time. Scrambling backward with her eyes shut, Mestra’s ears picked up laughing even over the sound of her own frightful scream. Her heart raced as she summoned the strength to look up.

Verdant Thicket stood near the inflatable Nightmare Moon, cackling at the prank he’d played on the hapless group. Mestra was about to say something, but found herself unable to do so, succumbing to a violent fit of hiccups instead. She wanted to laugh, but tears came out instead. Stormy charged into the yard like an angry bull, blowing by the frightful figure, rage emblazoned across her face.

“Verdant Thicket, you ass!” she lashed out with a jab, striking the stallion on his shoulder. Turning to her prone friend, her expression softened, “Mestra, are you okay?”

“A-“ she hiccuped, “ah.”

Verdant Thicket let out something like a giggle and mumbled a half-hearted apology, “I was just fooling around. It’s Nightmare Night. Also, you hit pretty hard for a carrot.”

Stormy shot him an infuriated look. Without another word passing between them, the stallion shrugged and left.

“Come on, let’s get your candy picked up and back into your bucket,” Stormy said with a forced smile.

It didn’t take them long to get Mestra sorted out, but the hiccups continued for quite a while. After getting candy from a few more houses, they played a few games, attempting to toss fake spiders onto webs and bobbing for apples, but the forgotten mare was so excited to get into her candy that her heart wasn’t in the games.

Stormy took her to make a customary sacrifice to the Nightmare Moon statue, this one a wooden carving, that had been set up near the school house. Mestra was a little sad to leave behind a few choice bits of her candy, but felt it worthwhile if it would keep Nightmare Moon from gobbling her up. The pair then returned home, ready to feast upon the gratuitous bounty of sweets that they had obtained.

Chapter XII

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.

Chapter XIII

The forgotten mare gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She detected a slight nervousness in her otherwise bright blue eyes. The salmon color of her mane, normally flowing somewhat straight, had been coiled into ribbon-like spirals that danced cheerfully when she moved. Most of them were bound up toward the back, but three hung loose, sometimes getting in her eyes.

The makeup that had been applied brought a border to her eyes, accentuating the lashes and making an almost catlike appearance at the corners. Rouge on her cheeks and deep red paste on her lips completed the work.

The dress she wore was somewhat cumbersome, but it did allow for movement well enough. It was of a light blue linen, a bit darker than the sky, but it complimented her eyes. There were white lacy frills at the collar and foreleg cuffs. She thought she looked not unlike a cupcake.

Stormy was similarly made-up mane and all, although her dress lacked the lacy frills. It was red, having only short sleeves on the forelegs, and it didn’t grow so large toward the flank as did Mestra’s. While she thought her own appearance was rather silly, the forgotten mare was amazed at how her friend was transformed. Normally somewhat boisterous, Stormy seemed quite elegant in spite of the simplicity of her gown.

Turning to Mestra, Stormy smiled, “Are you ready?”

“Ah...”

The forgotten mare forced a smile of her own, but truly she felt nervous. Her butterflies landed atop her coiled mane, able to gain their perch even more easily than usual. The pair exited the restroom and found Misty in the entryway, waiting for them. Mestra would have sworn there were tears in her eyes for a moment for how they glistened.

“Oh my... you two are so beautiful!” the elder mare beamed proudly.

She gave to each of them a flower that matched their dresses. Stormy had explained that they were for the stallions who would be escorting them. Mestra couldn’t help but feel strange. It was as if her butterflies were flitting about within her belly.

A knock at the door wrested Mestra from her nervousness. Misty welcomed Burble and Verdant Thicket into the home. They were dressed in black suits and white shirts, mainly standing apart in their neck ties.

The style of their suits were also noticeably different. Burble’s had a larger weave. Fraying was evident at the knees and one of the shoulder joints. His tie showed similar distress in its faded dark green coloring.

Verdant Thicket’s suit looked pressed and new with sharp creases running down every length. His neck sported a mustard colored bow tie, and golden links secured his cuffs in effigy of alicorns with emerald eyes.

At the sight of Mestra, Burble seemed paralyzed for a moment. She wondered whether he would run away as he had the day he’d asked her to come, but he held his ground this time.

“Are you two just going to stand there?” Stormy goaded.

The more finely dressed stallion replied, “Sorry about that. I think I speak for both of us when I say that we weren’t quite prepared for how lovely you two mares look tonight.”

Mestra and Stormy placed their flowers in their respective dates’ lapels as they had practiced. Misty returned with a camera.

“I need a photo before you go!”

“We’re going to be late!” Her daughter groaned.

“Stormy Nocturne! It isn’t every day my baby girl gets asked to a Fall Festival. You will humor your mother!”

Mestra felt herself instinctively stand more rigidly at the use of Stormy’s full name. In her experience, it always meant trouble. This time, however, Misty Fairweather’s tone seemed uncharacteristically playful.

The three others gathered close. A look from Stormy spurred Mestra into joining them, standing in the center with her friend, the stallions standing on either side by their respective dates.

“Alright, on three.”

Misty took aim and counted, the others all saying, “Peas!” in unison.

Before she could ask why they’d said ‘peas’, a flash blinded Mestra. She staggered backward, blinking against the brightness, and her butterflies scattered, eventually returning and taking up residence on her flank. Misty frowned.

“Just one more, dear. Mestra, it is customary to smile for a photograph. You looked almost frightened.”

“Ah? A... again?”

Misty smiled, “One more, and say ‘peas’ on three.”

The elder mare counted again, and this time Mestra was ready and smiled with the others. The flash was as bright as the first time, and the forgotten mare could see a distinctively off-colored spot in her vision.

“Okay, got it, let’s go!” Stormy said quickly.

As Mestra and the stallions exited, Misty caught Stormy and whispered something to her. Stormy nodded and rolled her eyes, continuing on. Tears of pride welled up in Misty’s eyes as she looked after them for a long moment before shutting the door.

Stormy and Verdant Thicket seemed excited by the coming festivities, though Burble was much more reserved. Mestra herself was uncertain how to feel, but settled on nervous as still being the predominant mood.

As they reached the edge of town, they came to the pumpkin patch, which had been quite extensively decorated in a rustic way which was common in Hollow Shades, but it felt appropriate. Hay bales served as tables, and displays of raw pumpkins, squash, and other vegetables which Mestra could not identify served as centerpieces.

Ropes had been strung overhead with numerous firefly lanterns hanging along them. Their soft glow provided a cozy illumination to the grounds. A stage had been set up at one end and was more brightly illuminated. A duo expertly wielded banjo and harmonica and wove blissful folk music to complete the ambiance.

In front of the stage, the area had been well flattened to serve as a dance floor. In the center, where the overhead ropes converged, was a buffet with a veritable plethora of savory and sweet delicacies.

It looked as though half the town had come out, mostly the younger stallions with their special someponies. Most, Mestra soon noticed, were dressed far more elegantly than were she, Burble, and Stormy, but Verdant Thicket seemed to blend in quite nicely.

“Come on!” Stormy led the way.

The group followed her directly to the dance floor. Stormy and Verdant Thicket took to the swaying and gyrating quite naturally. Mestra felt a lump form in her throat as she realized that she had no idea what to do.

Her gaze fell upon Burble. He managed what passed for a smile, though his eyes betrayed the fear within. He began to mumble something inaudible, but then stopped and took a breath.

“Have you ever danced before?”

Mestra shook her head, too nervous to even attempt words. The basic lessons that Stormy and Misty had given her on dancing were suddenly lost from her mind.

“Oh, I see... well, I haven’t really... I mean... not really...” he stammered. Mustering what courage he was able, he extended a hoof and said, “Just... follow my lead... I guess...”

Keeping an eye on Stormy and Verdant Thicket, Mestra stepped toward Burble and assumed a similar pose. As they began moving to the music, her attention darted between the other pair and her own hooves, trying to keep in step with her date. It was an exercise in futility.

Try though she might, Mestra simply couldn’t predict where Burble would step next, and found herself going the wrong direction as much as not. After the third time she stepped on him, they stopped.

“It’s okay, we can try again,” the stallion said sweetly as if he had detected the embarrassment that Mestra felt. “Don’t look at them this time. Just focus on how we are moving.”

She locked her eyes with his, moving rather clumsily with the music. Looking down at his hooves, she thought she had figured out the pattern. As she looked back up, Mestra saw stars for a moment as a sharp pain snaked from her head through her body as her crown connected with Burble’s chin. Falling down onto her knees, it took the mare a moment to realized what had happened.

Burble was lying flat on his back just in front of her. Before she could decide on a course of action, Stormy was there to help.

“Are you okay?”

“Ah,” Mestra said as she mussed her own hair to sooth her scalp.

Burble sat up, seeming somewhat groggy at first, but it soon gave way to alertness as his face flushed.

“I’ll bet you two are hungry, huh?” Stormy changed the subject as they all got back to their hooves.

“Yeah, that’s... sure...” Burble said.

Pointing, she continued, “How about you two stake our claim at that hay bale, and Verde and I will get some punch and maybe some of those cakes from the buffet.”

“Ah.”

The concussed pair made their way to the appointed place and waited in silence. Burble seemed as though he wanted to speak, but he didn’t say anything until Verdant Thicket arrived with punch.

“Here you go, drink up,” he said.

Mestra took a sip and found the bright orange liquid to be pumpkin flavored and wonderfully sweet. She unceremoniously gulped down the rest of it. Her throat tingled, almost with a slight warmth as it went down.

Verdant Thicket laughed, “Easy there. You don’t want to fill up on punch.”

“Ah... more?”

He grinned, “Why not?”

Walking away, he left the pair to themselves again for a moment.

Burble sort of shrugged and offered, “Sorry I’m not a good dancer.”

“Is... oh... oh... is fine. Mestra have never dance.”

Stormy arrived with several tiny plates that were loaded with samples from the buffet. Butternut squash bars, miniature pumpkin pies, as well as assorted less noteworthy items filled their plates.

“I forgot napkins!” Stormy chided herself. “I’ll be right back.”

Verdant Thicket returned with an entire tray laden with cups of punch. Mestra’s mouth watered in anticipation as she took her second serving.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Verdant Thicket directed at the mare.

“Uh,” she replied, indulging in the sweetness.

“She just hasn’t had enough practice is all,” Burble said.

Verdant Thicket took one of the tiny pumpkin pies and bit half of it off. He seemed to approve. Mestra felt her head swimming ever so slightly and concluded that she had bumped it harder than she’d thought. She took another drink of punch.

Burble dug into the the softer foods, still seeming somewhat nervous and nursing his chin.

“Try something. It’s all really good,” Verdant Thicket enticed.

Mestra decided to stick with her punch, “Uh.”

“Do... well... do you like Hollow Shades?” Burble directed his question at the forgotten mare.

“Ah... is... nice. Mestra have not be in... other city.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m not sure if Hollow Shades qualifies as a city,” Verdant Thicket interjected. “Once you’ve seen Manehattan or Canterlot, you realize just how small we are up here.”

“Big like Crystal Empire?”

“You’ve been to the Crystal Empire?” Burble asked in amazement.

“Uh... was not... had being there.”

“That place is just an old pony tale!” Verdant Thicket scoffed.

The mare was offended and sprang to her deceased mentor’s defense, “Mestra told about from Magister... Magister from Crystal Empire... He told Mestra so!”

Verdant Thicket snorted.

“I read a book of old myths once. It said the Crystal Empire vanished hundreds of years ago.”

“Ah... evil king... bad things...”

Verdant Thicket rolled his eyes. Mestra took another draft of her punch. She was coming to the conclusion that she didn’t like that stallion. Burble’s curiosity was somewhat more palatable, so she directed her attention back to him.

“Magister... not could stop king... not there when... when van... van...”

“Vanished,” Burble assisted.

“Ah...”

The mare felt pleased but also strange as Stormy returned with napkins. Her head felt light, making her somewhat giddy. Her stomach also made some strange motions, as though it were doing somersaults.

The musicians went silent and a different group came into the stage. It was a quartet of guitarists that had a propensity for harmonies in their vocal undulations.

“What’d I miss?” Stormy asked.

“Nothing much,” her date replied.

“We were dishcushing the Cryshtal Empire,” Burble slurred.

Stormy laughed, “What?”

“Cryshtal...” Mestra hiccuped, “Em... Emfire...” she felt herself giggle at the sound of her own voice.

Stormy looked confused as Mestra finished another cup of punch. They would have to get more soon.

“Pretty cryshtals... and... and... poniesh...” the forgotten mare hiccuped again.

“Pretty cryshtals,” Burble teetered, but his eyes were fixed on Mestra.

She returned his gaze, unafraid. Her face felt hot.

“Pretty... pretty... You’re pretty,” he said with a sigh.

Mestra giggled.

“Hold on a second! What is happening?” Stormy demanded.

Laughter rang from Verdant Thicket. Stormy turned to him.

“What did you do?”

He shrugged, “Have you tried the punch?”

Stormy took a cup and sampled the sweet deliciousness as Mestra grabbed at the last one. She felt good. Burble closed the distance between them, standing close to his date. Stormy spit out the drink.

“Are you crazy? You can’t give her spiked punch!”

“I told her to take it easy,” he replied with a smug grin.

Stormy shouted back at him, “She doesn’t know any better! What were you thinking?”

She walked around the hay bale, not stopping until she had pushed Burble backward. He staggered but caught his balance.

“I’ll deal with you two later!” she spoke hotly, “Mestra! We’re going home!”

“Come on,” Verdant Thicket objected, “it’s not like I did it to them on purpose. I spiked the entire batch. It’s not my fault they can’t handle it.”

“Yes it is!”

She grabbed Mestra’s foreleg and pulled her from the table. Confused as she was by the turn of events, the forgotten mare attempted to follow Stormy, but the ground shifted as though it were made of water, and the next thing she knew, Mestra Amymone had unceremoniously planted her face in the dirt.

Verdant Thicket stooped down, helping Stormy get Mestra up, “What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal!” rage contorted Stormy’s expression. “The fact that you don’t think it’s a big deal is most of the problem!”

He shrugged, “We all have too much to drink sometimes. It happens.”

Stormy reach around Mestra, pushing the stallion away, “Verdant Thicket, we are finished!”

“But-“ he closed the distance.

“Done! Quit! Broken up! Go do whatever you want, because I don’t care!” she shoved him backward a second time.

Stormy and Mestra walked away as Verdant Thicket’s objections to their departure grew louder behind them. Mestra wanted to run back and slap him, though she wasn’t sure why. She was, however, unable to do so, presently finding walking unaided far too challenging to accomplish.

Stormy mumbled fiery words as the pair left the festival and headed back home. Mestra began to be concerned that Stormy was mad at her. She tried to apologize, but the timing was poorly chosen.

Her stomach twinged, and before she could stop it, she retched, and all of its contents showered Stormy’s red dress. She instinctively backed away, and Mestra stumbled. Picking herself up, she vomited a second time.

“Great; that’s just great!” Stormy fumed.

Looking back up at her irate friend, the forgotten mare said, “Mestra... feel better.”

“By Celestia! I should hope so!”

The intoxicated mare felt wounded by her friend’s outburst. She hadn’t intended to throw up on her or to make her upset. Mestra burst into tears. Her butterflies, which had taken flight when she fell down, didn’t attempt another landing on such a shaky target, but instead flew around nearby.

Stormy did her best to help up her inebriated friend. Through much effort, several more stumbles, and no small amount of tears, they made it back to the house. Stormy delicately set Mestra down on the cold earth as she worked the door. The forgotten mare buried her face in the well cropped grass and continued to cry, though she couldn’t remember exactly what had made her so remorseful.

Stumbling into the house together, Misty wore a look of concern initially that quickly gave way to total shock.

“Nightmare Moon! What is going on here?” she demanded.

Stopping in their tracks, Stormy looked up, “Either help or get out of the way!”

“Stormy Nocturne! That is no way to speak to your mother!”

The pair shouted back and forth, mostly about Stormy’s attitude and something about her dress. Mestra felt ill once again. She heaved, but there was nothing within to bring up, a condition that felt far more painful than had the vomiting.

“I didn’t do this!” Stormy spoke hotly. “It was Verde and Burble who spiked the punch and gave her like six cups before I knew what had happened.”

Reigning in her own anger, Misty spoke with a calm fortitude, “Clearly we have had a misunderstanding.”

“You think?” Stormy snarled.

“I’m sorry for shouting when you arrived, but it doesn’t matter how angry you are, you cannot speak to me that way.”

Stormy growled, gritting her teeth, “I’m... sorry...”

Misty sighed, calming down, “Let’s get you two cleaned up.”

The bathing and getting ready for bed was somewhat of a blur. The dreamy fit that composed her sleep seemed to grow ever deeper into strange unknown worlds that would have filled a conscious mind with wonder.

Mestra awoke to a massive dull pounding in her head. Her butterflies swirled in the air above, somehow making her head hurt even worse. The shades suddenly were thrown open, letting eye stabbing sunlight in.

“Good morning.”

Mestra groaned at the sound, which seemed overly loud and piercing. She worked, making it up to her hooves, but it increased the pounding in her head several times over. She was about to collapse back down on the bed, but she was caught by Stormy.

“I’ve got you,” she said. “Let’s get to the table; you can sit down there.”

“Uh... much loud...” she made a shushing sound.

“Sorry,” Stormy whispered. “You had a rough night... we both did.”

She gave Mestra water to drink, but nopony had yet prepared breakfast, so the forgotten mare had to wait. Misty crossed the room, stopping long enough to make a sympathetic smile at Mestra, but she avoided eye contact with her daughter. She continued into the kitchen.

“Mestra,” Stormy spoke in a whisper, “If it’s alright with you, I want to move back into my room... with you.”

The forgotten mare tilted her head to one side, which pounded from the minuscule exertion.

“I think I’ve been spending a little too much time close to my mom, and we’re getting a bit... irritable as a result.”

“Ah... Stormy stay... with Mestra.”

A knocking on the door, soft though it was, nearly split the mare’s head open. She grabbed it with both hooves and groaned. Stormy went to answer the tapping, sighing loudly when she saw who had arrived.

Burble stood there, still wearing his suit from the previous night, though it was quite filthy as if he had slept in mud. Heavy bags were under his eyes.

“What do you want?” Stormy demanded.

Both Mestra and Burble grabbed their heads and made shushing sounds.

“Please, not so loud,” Burble begged.

Still in her normal and combative tone, Stormy continued, “I don’t owe you any concessions after what you pulled last night.”

“What I pulled?” his voice was cracked and hoarse.

“Yeah,” she shot back incredulously, “trying to take advantage of Mestra’s lack of experience. What was your plan if I hadn’t been there to put a stop to it?”

He held up a hoof, “Wait... You’ve got it all wrong. I had no idea that Verdant Thicket had spiked the punch. There wasn’t a plan, at least, not that I knew anything about.”

Stormy raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Please... no yell...” Mestra mumbled as loud as she would dare.

Stormy looked back at her sympathetically. Burble noticed her and redoubled his efforts with the guard.

“Please,” he whispered. “Let me apologize to Mestra.”

Her hard expression wavered, and Stormy glanced back to her friend. Mestra nodded, and Stormy took a step backward, clearing the way for Burble to enter. He slowly approached the table, a pained expression on his haggard face. He looked at least as bad as the forgotten mare felt.

“Mestra,” he spoke softly. “I came by to try and say how sorry I am for last night. I had no idea Verdant Thicket had messed with the drinks. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

His eyes were filled with devastation.

“If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you... I...” he hesitated. “I just hope... maybe we can still be friends.”

It took Mestra Amymone a long moment to realize that Burble was awaiting her answer. Her butterflies swirled around his head. She looked to Stormy, who only shrugged in reply.

“Ah... um... friends,” she said.

Relief flooded his eyes, and the little glowing insects returned to Mestra, landing in her mane. Even as small and delicate as they were, it felt like hammers pounding on her head. She waved them off with a groan.

“Come on,” Misty said from the kitchen. “I think you two could both do with some rest and plenty of water.”

“Thanks, I’m fine to make it home,” Burble declined. “I’m sure my parents are worried about me.”

Without further ceremony, he made his departure. Mestra certainly had much to consider after the events of the previous night, but she was glad to be able to put Burble at ease. He seemed nice enough, and she didn’t want to hurt him. She did wish that Verdant Thicket had been as considerate before bringing the drinks.

Chapter XIV

Mestra Amymone felt herself bristle, her mane standing on end at the base of her skull.

“Never like that,” came a full voice, a little deep for a mare. “Try again.”

“Yes, Miss, Acumen,” she spoke slowly to ensure proper enunciation.

Stormy sat across the classroom, working on her homework from the previous day. The pair had been coming early since Miss Zenithal Acumen’s invitation to help Mestra improve her language skill and Stormy with her own schooling.

The room smelled fresh with the oily scent of the well-conditioned wood floor. Her eyes wandered for a moment. She shivered from a draft, but was unable to detect from where it had come. All the doors and windows were shut. The heat from the stove in the corner did seemingly little to help, though Mestra had been in the schoolhouse on days when it was unlit, and the winter cold would have been far more piercing were that the case.

“While walking the plain, mainly does, the rain, fall, on the mane.”

“Adequate,” Zenithal Acumen looked down her horn-rimmed glasses at her pupil. “When would one use the subjunctive?”

“If Mestra was to guess-“

“Incorrect!” the teacher reprimanded. “One must refer to herself by the personal pronoun, ‘I’. Try again.”

“If I was to guess-“

“Incorrect! That is precisely where you should use the subjunctive. You should say, ‘If I were to guess.’”

Mestra took a breath, swallowing the frustration that grew within, “If I, were to guess, the sub, subjunctive is for, to be used while stating something as possible, but not likely.”

“Good enough. More to the point, it typically expresses what is imagined or wished.”

Mestra was certain she saw Stormy smile for a moment, but Miss Acumen was quick to continue the lesson. The months of morning studies had made the forgotten mare’s head hurt daily with the new facts and figures, mostly language and reading skills, with which she was bombarded. It seemed an eternity before the other students finally arrived to give her some relief.

Lessons began, and Mestra was glad to be sitting with Stormy near the front of the room and no longer drawing the direct attention of Miss Acumen. They couldn’t talk to each other during class, which Mestra had discovered by drawing ire from the teacher one morning.

When they eventually concluded the lesson, the students broke into groups to work on some math problems. Stormy and Mestra sat together with Burble. The advanced mathematics was far beyond the forgotten mare’s abilities, but she did get to practice on her own level. This also gave her an opportunity for less formal practice on her language skills.

A snapping sound was followed by a curse from Stormy.

“Nightmare Moon!”

Mestra looked up to see her friend’s pencil lead had broken.

“Here,” Mestra volunteered, “you can use mine, and I will sharpen yours.”

The frustration evaporated from Stormy’s expression and was replaced by a smile.

“You just made a compound sentence.”

“I did?” the forgotten mare asked.

“You did!”

Burble looked up, “Didn’t you do it on purpose?”

Mestra felt her face scrunch in thought, “Uh. It just happened.”

Stormy giggled, “Okay then. Sharpen away!”

The pair traded pencils, and Mestra walked to the sharpener. Sitting nearby, not grouped with anyone, was Verdant Thicket. The forgotten mare had only passing interactions with him since the Fall Festival, but he seemed pleasant enough considering the things Stormy had since said about him. Those two were no longer romantically involved as a result of that incident, despite the stallion’s continued efforts to win her back. For her own part, Mestra had concluded that Verdant Thicket hadn’t meant her any harm but simply didn’t understood how little she’d known at the time.

She began sharpening the pencil, one of her favorite classroom activities. The sound of the grinding within the box as she cranked it combined with the scent of freshly ground wood was almost magical. Her butterflies lifted from her back and fluttered about the device. The mare shivered from the chill in the air.

“Cold?” Verdant Thicket asked.

“Ah,” she answered.

“Yeah, me too. I’ll bet it’s a little warmer where you sit, since you’re closer to the stove.”

“Uh, Mestra... um, I get cold over there.”

“She could keep it warmer if she wanted to,” he replied nonchalantly, “then we could all be comfortable.”

The mare tightened her scarf, “The sweater and scarf keep Mes... keep I warm.”

“Me, keep me warm.”

“Ah, keep me warm.”

He shrugged, “Well, you wouldn’t need them in here if she’d use these.”

From a pocket in his jacket, the stallion produced some chestnuts. Mestra had eaten some previously and so recognized them.

“To keep warm?”

“Yeah, they burn hot, so I’d bet this little bunch would make it nice and toasty in here.”

“Why not use them?”

“I didn’t think anyone else was cold, and I didn’t want to heat up the whole room if it was just me. Besides, I need to finish my work,” the stallion returned his attention to the mathematics assignment on his desk.

“I can do it,” the mare volunteered.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

She nodded, “I have time. It is a small matter.”

“Nobody says it like that. Either, ‘I don’t mind,’ or, ‘it’s no big deal.’”

“Ah! I don’t mind.”

Almost reluctantly, he held out the chestnuts. Mestra scooped them up and walked gleefully to the other end of the classroom. The metal stove was simple enough. It was made from cast iron and had a latch that kept the grilled door shut should the wood inside shift or fall.

The mare rotated the latch and opened the door, tossed in the chestnuts and closed it again, securing the lock as she did. Returning to her seat, Mestra continued working on her math.

“What took you so long?” Stormy asked.

“I was talking to Verde.”

The black mare looked up, nostrils flaring in agitation. There was a question on her face, but she didn’t get to ask it. A loud pop startled everypony and was followed by a shriek from those closest to the stove. Mestra’s butterflies shot straight up into the air.

Pop! Bang! Pop, pop! Bang!

The explosions in the wood heater sent students scrambling away as Miss Zenithial Acumen shouted for them to move to safety in an orderly fashion. As suddenly as it began, the cacophony stopped. Mestra’s heart pounded in her chest as she peeked over her desk, underneath which she had hidden. The commotion from the students was quickly silenced by the teacher.

“Well?” she asked expectantly. “Who is responsible for this disruption?”

Silence met her initially, but then a mare at the front raised her hoof. The teacher turned to her.

“I saw Mestra go up to the stove just before it happened.”

As a predator’s full focus comes to bear on its prey, so did Miss Zenithal Acumen trap the forgotten mare in her gaze, “Mestra Amymone!”

The forgotten mare felt her heart leap up into her throat as her name was called out by the teacher. She slowly stood, opening her mouth to explain.

“Not one word!” the teacher cut her off. “Outside, now!”

Mestra’s hooves felt as though they were shod with lead. Stormy’s eyes were wide with horror as her friend trudged across the room and went down the stairs and out into the frigid air. Day old snow had piled up and become a bit hard from trampling. Her butterflies managed to follow and flitted gleefully nearby, seemingly unaware of the trouble in which Mestra had found herself.

At a near panic, she wanted nothing more than to run as fast as her legs would carry her back to Misty’s house. Before she was able to muster up enough courage to flee, the door shut behind her, and Zenithal Acumen was giving a harsh glare from behind her glasses. Mestra was petrified. Even her butterflies seemed to be moving in slow-motion as they glided through the air.

The elder mare breathed a deep sigh, “I have seen many odd things in my day, but this... from you?”

As much as she wanted to speak, a lump had formed in Mestra’s throat, and she couldn’t find her own voice.

The teacher’s expression was hard as iron.

“Explain yourself,” she said evenly.

Mestra’s breaths were shaky, coming with great heaving effort, and she tried to summon enough air to break the lump in her throat. Her first attempt came out something like a squeak. She tried again.

“Mestra did... I did not know. He told me the chestnuts would be warm in the fire. The room... was going to be warm.”

Her steely visage remained, but one eyebrow raised, “And just who told you to put the chestnuts in the fire?”

Mestra looked down at her hooves, “Verde.”

“You will remain here,” the elder mare said.

The forgotten mare was able to get her breath back, and her butterflies seemed to be moving as normal again. They landed on her back, burrowing into her scarf. It seemed only moments before Zenithal Acumen returned with Verdant Thicket, a look of confusion on his face.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Well what?” he asked.

“She tells me that you gave her chestnuts and said that they would make the room warmer if she threw them into the fire.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any chestnuts.”

Mestra’s eyes went wide as she turned to look at Verdant Thicket. His returned gaze was cold and distant.

“You deny any knowledge of the disruption in class?”

“Of course,” he answered. “She must have been either confused or lying. She’s just using her bad language skills to make you think she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

Mestra felt a rage burn within. Strength surged into her legs, and a drive to slam into Verde and knock the passively smug grin from his face nearly overcame her. The fear of Zenithal Acumen, it turned out, was sufficient to keep Mestra’s hooves firmly planted.

“Return to your seat.”

Verdant Thicket went back inside, leaving the pair alone again. Mestra looked back to the teacher, tears welling up in her eyes at the betrayal.

“Miss... I did not know... I would not do that...”

The harsh gaze on Zenithal Acumen’s face slowly evaporated, “Oh, I know it, dear, but I had to be certain. I can see the truth written on your face.”

The forgotten mare felt lost. It was as if the teacher, whom she’d been getting to know for months was suddenly somepony else entirely.

“Mestra... not in trouble?”

A chuckle escaped the teacher, “Not for the disturbance, but that is no excuse to let your grammar slip.”

Mestra felt herself stand up straighter at the gentle scolding, “Yes, ma’am!”

“I’ve been teaching Verdant Thicket and his brothers since the eldest first attended school. They have quite a penchant for mischief. If he goes the way of the older two, he should begin to settle down soon. For now, I’ll have to keep after him.”

Zenithal Acumen took a long breath, staring into Mestra’s eyes, “You’d be best served to not be too close to troublemakers. Your friend, Stormy, is a good young mare, being occasionally a little rough around the edges notwithstanding. She has taken her father’s death harder than she’d ever admit. That’s when she started associating with Verdant Thicket. I don’t think you realize just how good for her your arrival has been.”

“I... good for... Stormy?

“Indeed, yes. Having someone to take care of, that needed her, it seems to have done her a world of good. Even if all you had done was show her how pernicious that young stallion can be, you’d have been a breath of fresh air.”

Mestra shivered at the cold, entranced by the way Miss Acumen was speaking. She’d never seen such a soft and caring side of her before.

“What do I does... I do now?” Mestra asked.

“We will return to class. Tell nopony about our conversation until the end of the day. I’ll deal with Verdant Thicket when the time comes.”

Mestra returned to the warmth of the classroom. The students had settled back into their group work, but Stormy and Burble looked up immediately as the forgotten mare entered the room. Her butterflies took flight and swarmed Stormy’s face, causing her to shoo them away.

“What happened? Are you in trouble?” Stormy asked as Mestra took her seat.

“It is okay. Mestra... I be... I am not in trouble.”

The three went back to their studies, but the forgotten mare found herself somewhat distracted. She couldn’t help but watch Zenithal Acumen with abject curiosity. She had turned out to be far different than Mestra had expected. She cared far more about her students than just teaching lessons and maintaining order in her classroom. The discovery was a pleasant surprise to be sure.

Chapter XV

The students were settling down before class, some soft chatter filling the air. Mestra Amymone’s thoughts had wandered to her coming adventure. Disappointing as it had been to not have found any of Mestra’s family in Hollow Shades, the prospect of seeing new places was somewhat alluring. As for the unknown marvels awaited her, she indulged to speculate.

“So,” Burble broke the mare from her reverie, “are you really going to be leaving soon?”

She turned to him, “Ah, when spring is. I need to find family. No family in Hollow Shades.”

“Oh,” he looked back down to his homework from the previous day.

“But we’ve still got a few weeks, and I say we make the best of it!” Stormy said cheerfully.

Mestra knew Stormy well enough to understand that her apparent good humor was a facade. They had talked many times about their coming separation, and Stormy was sad about it. If she wanted to put on a happy face for Burble’s sake, it would probably be best to simply play along.

The school day went without incident. As they were departing, Mestra noticed that Verdant Thicket had been chosen for classroom cleanup. Normally they would do this on an assigned schedule, but it shouldn’t have been his turn for at least another week. She surmised that Miss Acumen was giving him extra turns because of the chestnut incident.

“Thanks, Burble,” Stormy said as Mestra approached. “See you later!”

“Buh-bye,” he replied, trotting off.

“Stormy and I to see Burble later?”

Turning to her friend, Stormy seemed a little surprised, “We... you’d say, ‘Are we going to see Burble later?’”

“Ah.”

“No?” Stormy sounded unsure. “I mean, yes, eventually. It’s another way to say goodbye.”

“Ah,” Mestra nodded.

It had not yet ceased to amaze the mare how many different phrases meant similar things. It was not a mystery to her why after two years of study, her language skills were still somewhat lacking.

Mestra did not enjoy their winter job nearly so much as she had the berry picking. Shoveling walkways in front of other ponies’ houses was grueling work, especially while being bitten by frigid wind. By the time they finished with the drudgery, her nose and hooves were somewhat numb in spite of the activity and clothing she wore to protect against such. The pair walked back to their house as the sun slipped below the horizon.

“So, on to the next town, huh?”

Mestra didn’t feel comfortable with small talk, but she always tried to humor Stormy when she could.

“Ah...”

“I don’t blame you. I’ve always wanted to leave Hollow Shades.”

Mestra stopped, feeling confused by the statement.

“Why Stormy would want to leave?”

The dark mare shrugged, “There’s a whole world out there, and I’ve only seen this one little town.”

“Home... is home for Stormy not with family?”

“You’re right. I have a home, family and friends, a place where I belong... My mom would say it is one of those quirks of life that we always want something we don’t have.”

The icy breeze compelled her to continue moving if for no other reason than to keep warm.

“Para...” Mestra tried to remember a word she had found in her Magister’s journal, “Para-ducks?”

“Paradox?”

“Ah! Paradox is when are things opposite of their should be.”

Stormy’s brow furrowed a moment, “There are so many things wrong with that sentence, but the meaning is pretty accurate.”

Mestra couldn’t help but grin at her friend, who playfully pushed her away. They giggled a moment as they continued down the path, soon growing silent. It was as if a damp heaviness were hanging over their cheer. Becoming filled with a serious demeanor, Stormy spoke again.

“It’s just not going to be the same around here without you, Mestra. I...” the young mare stopped.

Mestra turned to face her still companion, waiting as she searched for words. A glistening filled her eyes as she looked up, locking gaze with Mestra.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

The forgotten mare felt something of a churning within her belly. She wasn’t sure what to say. She had also enjoyed her time with Stormy, but the need to find her own place was strong. The thought that her own family and friends could be missing her terribly was too much to bear. Stormy sniffed, wiping her nose.

Beginning to walk again, Stormy continued speaking in a much more nonchalant tone, “Well, it’s just bad timing is all. I can’t leave until I finish school or my mom would have a fit. And really, you’ve already made sure that nopony here knows you from before, and you’ve put aside enough supplies to make it a couple of months on the road.” She smiled, “That’s not bad for a year’s work.”

Fresh snow began to fall as they neared their destination, prompting them to pick up their pace. Mestra shivered against the growing cold as the pair made their way up the walkway to the house. The door creaked open at Stormy’s push, and the two friends entered the dark, stamping their boots against the rug to dislodge dirt and ice. Mestra shook to drop any snow that had piled onto her back, displacing her butterflies.

As the door shut, the little glowing insects were the only light. Mestra found this quite curious, as the windows always let light in, and it wasn’t quite dark enough out to have so obscured the inside of the house. Additionally, Misty was normally home and had lanterns ready. Mestra was just about to ask Stormy about it when her heart leapt into her throat.

“Surprise!” a half-dozen voices shouted together.

Confetti streamed from pop guns as light flooded the room, the lanterns having been previously covered by blankets. Decorations had been strewn all over the house, making for quite a cheerful display. The smiling faces that met Mestra left her mostly confused. She then saw a banner above them that had been crudely fashioned, but the meaning was not wasted on the forgotten mare, ‘Happy Birthday, Mestra!’

She looked immediately to Stormy, who had a smug grin upon her face. Clearly she had known that this gathering had been planned.

“Come in, you two!” Misty greeted them.

“Are you surprised?” Burble asked.

“Ah! Mes... I am surprised! How is this I... this my birthday? How you did know it is when?”

“Well,” Stormy shrugged, “technically we don’t know. But, I was talking to Miss Acumen, and she told me that the date isn’t so important. So we just picked one for you.”

Mestra couldn’t help but smile at such a delightful way to bend the rules of the social construct so that she could fit in. A warmth spread through her chest at the thought.

It was a small gathering, but the mirth of friendship was quite abundant. They sang to her as Misty brought a cake from the kitchen, the top alight with burning candles as was tradition.

“Make a wish,” said Misty.

“But you can’t tell anypony or it won’t come true,” Burble warned.

Stormy gave a reassuring look, “It’s just a tradition... there’s no real magic to it.”

Mestra’s mind was running too quickly to formulate something that felt appropriate to wish for, but focusing upon the journey ahead, the forgotten mare knew of one thing that seemed appropriate. She closed her eyes and made a wish that she could have Stormy travel alongside her. The forgotten mare blew out her birthday candles to the cheering of the guests. Cutting through the cream cheese icing, Mestra discovered carrot cake, a delicious surprise.

“Yum!” she voiced her delight.

“Do you remember the first time you had carrot cake?”

“Ah! I come to Stormy’s house for the first time. Misty gave carrot cake.”

“That’s right!” the dark mare affirmed.

“You are making good use of your improving language skills,” Miss Zenithal Acumen praised as she took a slice of the cake. “I still think you’d be best served staying here to learn more.”

“Thank you,” Mestra replied. “Mes... I will learn more. I study... and practice.”

“I’ll hold you to that, but there is no substitute for proper tutelage. Practical application is quite useful, but you may acquire poor habits if you aren’t diligent.”

“I will make good habits.”

Miss Acumen smiled behind her glasses.

The conversation turned toward Mestra’s coming journey which led to notions of excitement and wonders that one might find on an adventure. Burble became excited at the talk of amazing stories.

“So I heard this one the other day from a town to the south. It’s about a group of fillies and a colt that pulled off a stunt so amazingly stupid that it became immortalized in the town’s lore and was referred to afterward in hushed whispers as, ‘The Carrot Incident’.”

“Come on, Mestra,” Stormy spoke as though unaware Burble was only beginning a story, “it’s time to open presents!”

Burble shrank back a little, but the promise of gifts was too much for the forgotten mare to ignore, and she practically squealed, leaping from her chair. Misty and Miss Acumen began bringing the wrapped offerings. Light glinted off of the sparkling paper and glittery bows as Mestra eagerly tore into them. A bit of laughter rose up at the gusto with which she ripped paper to reveal her first gift.

“That’s from me,” said Stormy.

Mestra opened the box to find a hat, woven of straw, dyed white. Shooing her butterflies off of her head, she put the hat on and looked at Stormy, who gave her a smile.

“It’s not so much for fashion, but when summer comes, it’ll keep you a bit cooler when the sun gets hot.”

“Thanks!” Mestra grabbed Stormy briefly in a hug and then reached for the next gift.

It was a slightly worn book entitled, ‘Delicious & Nutritious: A Field Summary to the Best Tasting Edible Wild Plants’. Mestra looked up, a little confused.

Miss Acumen explained, “My own personal copy. I traveled a fair bit before I settled down and became a teacher. That is the best guide I have ever found to have on hoof if you are living off of the land for a few weeks.”

Mestra gave her a grin.

“I know it’s not so fun or exciting,” Zenithal Acumen added, “but I hope you’ll find it useful. I have left notes on several of the varieties listed.”

“Thank you!”

Given to her next was a small package, a square box. Mestra undid the crude wrapping and opened the container, discovering two items inside: a folded paper with Equestria drawn in a moderate amount of detail, the other a silver round casing held a northward pointing needle.

“That one’s from me,” Burble mumbled.

“It is a map!” she smiled at him. “And a compass.”

“I thought that you could cross off where you’ve been, and maybe you can find towns a little more easily. Also, I marked Hollow Shades so it is easy to find, just in case... if you ever wanted...” he began to blush lightly as he stopped talking.

Mestra would have filled the silence, but there was no need, as Misty brought forth a final gift, “This one, we all contributed in part, but I picked it out.”

Savagely ripping her way into the box led Mestra to discover a new set of blue saddle bags.

“Pretty! Is Mes... my favorite color!”

Misty smiled, “We thought you’d need a better way to carry your things than tying them up on your back. Now you have a place to store your winter clothes and keep some provisions while you travel.”

“Thank all of you!” Mestra grabbed Stormy in another hug.

The forgotten mare was a bit overwhelmed with glee. The thoughtfulness of the gifts and the party had put a grin on her face that it seemed might be a permanent resident.

In spite of the fact that each of her friends had in turn asked her to stay in Hollow Shades, they had given her gifts that would no doubt aid her on her journey. She was truly lucky to have made such good friends.

Chapter XVI

Mestra Amymone sat on a stone bench in the town graveyard. Slushy old snow gradually melted, a harbinger of the end of the season and much anticipated ‘winter wrap up’, for which the entire town was in preparation. The cold seemed to have lost its teeth; the mare loosened her scarf.

The frigid granite on which the mare sat seemed appropriate. There was a singularly solemn feeling, not unlike where she’d buried her magister when the time had come. Going there, to that resting place, made Mestra feel a little closer to her mentor. Memories became vivid, and she could almost hear his voice as she drew a book from her new saddle bags.

Her glowing butterflies danced around the cover, eventually darting off to play in the brilliant sunshine that ignited snow covered tombstones in its warmth. The mare opened the journal to a marked page which she had read many times, but it always gave her comfort, renewed her focus, to see the passage again.

Her eyes scanned the final message her magister had written, “Mestra, it is my hope that you will find this after I am gone. The things I have been teaching you were to prepare you for the greatest adventure that could lie ahead: your life....”

“I don’t know your path forward. But consider one thing. Before you became forgotten, you were somepony else. You had family, friends, an entire other life before you met me. Clearly it was a life that had some great sorrows, but perhaps there was love there as well. You may have family that misses you as you now miss me....”

“Whatever you choose, do an old stallion proud, and remember the things that I taught you. Remember the good times. Remember the sad times. Unpleasant though they are, you can learn so much from them that they are an invaluable source of wisdom. You can overcome because you are strong. Farewell, Mestra Amymone, in all your journeys. Magister Pyxidis.”

Sorrow filled the mare’s eyes as she remembered the time she’d spent in that cabin with the old unicorn. She ached to return there, but felt herself sigh at the realization of such folly. It wasn’t the cabin or the woods that she missed. That for which she languished could no longer be found.

Hearing the crunching of snow, Mestra was drawn from her reverie and looked up to see Misty approaching.

“Hello,” the elder mare greeted warmly.

“Hi.”

“Enjoying the sunshine?”

“Ah.”

“I see. I am heading to the market to pick up a few things. I could use your help and certainly wouldn’t mind the company, if you’re not busy, that is.”

Mestra stood, replacing the book into her bag, “I am not. I will come shopping.”

Misty looked somberly past the forgotten mare across the graves. With something that passed for a smile, she turned and began walking toward town. Mestra followed. They strode in silence until they had left the graveyard.

“I see you still like to visit the cemetery,” Misty spoke idly.

“Ah.”

It took Mestra a moment to remember the lessons which Stormy had given her on ‘small talk’.

“I like the s... the quiet.”

Misty nodded, humming to herself, “It always feels lonely to me, and sad.”

“Ah,” the mare replied, “That is when I remember Magister the best.”

A pained smile crossed Misty’s muzzle, “I understand.”

They continued walking as a silence fell between the pair, the steady rhythm of their hoofbeats notwithstanding. Misty’s every step seemed heavy and deliberate.

At the market, the older mare seemed to become more her usual self as they picked out choice shallots, chard, peas, and asparagus. They also picked up flour and a few essential toiletries.

Once loaded, the two made their course toward the house. Misty seemed to grow contemplative again before eventually breaking the quiet.

“Would I be correct in assuming that your plans have not changed?”

Mestra nodded. She wasn’t entirely certain as to why, but thoughts of the future had been making her sad of late.

“I will leave tomorrow.”

“To continue your search?”

“Ah.”

The elder mare’s gaze dropped to her front hooves as they plodded along. Her pace slowed as they approached the bridge. Mestra also curbed her speed, the two of them coming to a stand-still atop the arch that spanned the little creek. The wind had a bit more potency up there, though it still had little bite. The mare took in the town in which she’d now lived for nearly as long as she’d lived with her magister in the little cottage in the woods. The quaint little houses seemed so much more welcoming and familiar than they had that first day in the thunderstorm.

The golden rays of the sun lit Misty’s face and glinted off of her lavender eyes, “I don’t want you to go.”

Mestra felt somewhat surprised by the declaration but didn’t know what to say. Her butterflies danced through the air about Misty.

“I would never have guessed a year ago that your coming would have affected me... affected us so. We were struggling just to keep ourselves fed; I wasn’t sure we’d be able to help you, whether we wanted to or not. And Stormy... I’ve seen such a change in her. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have her back.”

Mestra responded thoughtfully, “I am glad. My search is not done. I may have family. They might miss me.”

Misty took a deep breath, wiping moisture from her eyes, “But what if it was all sadness. You told me that’s how you lost your memories. The butterflies took you to that place where sorrow is forgotten. Did you ever think that maybe your life from back then was so sad that you’re better off not knowing?”

It was a troubling possibility, but one that Mestra knew she would have to confront because more lives were in consideration than hers.

“I may have been sad. My family may be sad now. They might look for me. I need to find them.”

Misty redoubled her attack, “You could spend years trying to find friends or family that may not even care that you’re gone, but think of what you’ve already built here. If you go, if you leave Hollow Shades, Stormy and I will miss you, and I doubt we’re the only ones.”

Mestra felt her brow furrow. She hadn’t considered the impact on the new friends she’d made. It was certainly an unintended complication. She wished her magister were there to give her proper advice on how to proceed. She watched her butterflies as they joyously flitted about. The words from her Magister’s journal stayed at the forefront of her mind and helped form her reply.

“I must know if they are out there,” she finally said.

Misty nodded, a single tear escaping before she wiped her eyes. She took a breath and started walking again. As they reached the bottom of the bridge, the elder made a final statement.

“I understand that you need to do this. I support you, but just remember that if you’re ever in the area, you’re always welcome at our home.”

“Ah,” Mestra felt quite warmed by the sentiment, “thank you!”

They walked back to the house in silence, and the forgotten mare put her rudimentary culinary skills to good use, assisting Misty in the preparation of dinner. A hearty salad with spinach and pecans served as the main course with fresh garlic bread to go alongside it. Baked cinnamon apples rounded out the meal as dessert.

The three also enjoyed their fellowship and warm conversation. All too soon, it was time for bed, and Mestra found herself packing her saddle bags for the coming journey the next morning. She knew what needed to be stowed within, but found herself moving at a snail’s pace. Her butterflies danced about cheerfully in spite of the sullenness she felt inside.

Stormy entered the room, her toothbrush hanging from her mouth. She grabbed a brush for her mane from the dresser, awkwardly tucking it in one leg and walking back out again on the other three.

Redoubling her efforts, the forgotten mare was able to make a final push. By the time Stormy returned from her evening toilet rituals, Mestra had double-checked her supplies. She was packed and ready. All that remained was to get some sleep. Stormy threw herself into the bed and shut her eyes. The forgotten mare turned out the light and delicately walked through the darkness, sliding under the covers near her friend.

Mestra lay there for some time in thought. She had initially tried to sleep, but found herself wide awake, just counting the hours until she had to set off on her own once again. Her butterflies were resting on her new straw hat, their glow seeming dimmer while they slept, though still bright in the darkness.

“Mestra,” came a whisper, “are you awake?”

Without turning or moving, she replied, “Ah.”

“Big day tomorrow, huh?”

“Big day,” the mare repeated absently.

“I just wanted to say that I’m really excited for you. I know you’re nervous, but just think of all the new ponies you’ll get to meet, and the new places you’ll get to see...”

“Stormy want... wants to travel.”

“You know I do. Someday I will.”

“Someday.”

“Someday, you’ll find your family too.”

Mestra rolled over and gazed at the blackness, just able to make out the silhouette of her friend in the dark and the reflection of the butterflies glinting off of her eyes.

“The way you went through all of Hollow Shades, I have no doubt, Mestra, with that kind of determination, you will find them.”

It was an encouraging thought. Mestra could only wonder whether the next few towns would take as long to get through, if Hollow Shades were only a small one as many of its inhabitants had often said. But, if she didn’t use up time in schooling and only stuck to taking what jobs she needed to sustain herself and devoted the rest of her time to the search, her speed would no doubt increase.

“Also,” Stormy continued her hushed tone, “I’m really going to miss you.”

Mestra didn’t reply, but she felt a shrinking in the wellspring of her emotions as her eyes began to water.

“Getting to know you has been so much fun, and nopony is as surprised about that as I am. You’re just... you’re an amazing pony. I wish I could go with you.”

“I...” there was a catch in Mestra’s voice, preventing her from speaking.

The tears erupted from her eyes like a spring rain shower. Stormy reached out, pulling Mestra close in an embrace. Mestra let her emotions flow for a time, Stormy patting her back as she held her there. The closeness was comforting.

Mestra didn’t want to be alone. The wish she had made on her birthday, Stormy had just spoken it aloud, even though Mestra had told nopony. She hoped that was a good omen, that perhaps it would come true, in spite of having been told that wishing on birthday candles wasn’t real magic.

It seemed the truth of the matter was that the forgotten mare would be alone, and soon. Mestra felt sad at the prospect of leaving her new friends behind, almost as sad as when her magister had died. Misty and Miss Acumen, even Burble had tried to convince her to stay. Stormy was supportive, but clearly saddened as well. The forgotten mare was resolved; she would take the next step forward. Whatever adventures lay ahead, Hollow Shades would always hold a special place in Mestra Amymone’s heart.

Author's Note

I can’t say for certain when... but I don’t believe this is the last we’ll hear of the forgotten mare and her search...

But that’s a story for another day.

Thanks for spending time with me, in the whimsy of my imagination! :twilightsmile: