The Forgotton Story: Jatheus 2

Did I ever tell you about the time when Mestra Amymone learned about fear? It happened while she was living in a small cottage in the woods one winter. The wise old unicorn that had given her that name also taught her many other things. Above all, he warned her to never go into the forest alone. As so often happens with youth, a certain amount of innocent foolishness accompanied Mestra Amymone's ignorance of life and the dangers that can exist.

Sometimes, when the old unicorn slept in the afternoon, Mestra Amymone would quietly sneak out of the house. By this time, she had learned some rudimentary speech. It would most accurately be equated to foal language, but the old unicorn was very patient with her. On these excursions in the middle of the bright winter days, she would practice the few words that she knew, repeating them over and over to the butterflies that were her constant companions. She could see her breath on the cold air and wondered whether those were her words that she saw. Of course, butterflies don't ever talk to ponies; Mestra Amymone wasn't sure whether they are unable, or simply have nothing to say.

On one of these excursions, it was a particularly cold and sunny day. Mestra Amymone remembered to put on a red sweater, boots, mittens, a bright blue scarf and a white crochet hat that kept her ears warm. Were she a suspicious pony, she might have wondered why the old unicorn had mare's clothes in her size. However, Mestra Amymone simply accepted the world as it lay before her. Now dressed for the cold, she cast a final glance back at the old unicorn, sitting in his chair by the fire. His eyes were closed in a peaceful afternoon slumber, his chest slowly rose and fell with each breath. She softly exited the cabin, being careful to not open the door too far, as it would creak rather loudly. Shutting it quietly, Mestra Amymone and her butterfly companions found themselves in a snow covered landscape, brilliantly illuminated by the sunlight that came though the naked branches of the trees.

She walked, crunching the snow beneath her hooves. The sound of it was a most pleasant munching. She never worried about getting lost, because her hoofprints always led the way home. She had discovered this on a previous outing, which I'll have to tell you about sometime.

Once the cabin was out of sight, Mestra Amymone began practicing her words, speaking them to the butterflies as they flittered about her. She walked, enjoying the brisk bite of the wind against her face, and watching her words as they floated away like little puffs of cloud. It made her wonder who was speaking to create the big clouds that hang in the sky up above the trees. Whoever it was, she knew that they were angry sometimes, because she could hear them. Those times were particularly frightening, as the booming voice thundered so loudly. There was little chance of that today. It seemed to only happen when dark clouds filled the sky.

Mestra Amymone stopped suddenly when her hooves didn't make the right sound. Instead of the soft crunching of snow, one of her boots made more of a clacking sound. Her hooves also didn't sink like they was supposed to. Looking down, she discovered a new kind of ground. It was very hard but smooth. It stretched out in front of her, and no trees grew in this place. They were all around, but there were none in this perfectly flat clearing.

She walked forward and the world spun a moment; Mestra Amymone felt almost giddy as she lost all traction and fell hard to the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quietly swallowed them. Her side ached where she had fallen, but it only hurt a little. This was a very slippery place! With care, she began trying to stand again. It was difficult, but with some effort, she made it back onto her hooves. This time, she was much more cautious as she moved about on this surface.

It didn't take Mestra Amymone long to discover that she could keep her balance and slide around. It was exhilarating! She would pick up speed, as carefully as she could, and then stop, sliding very quickly around. After a while, she began to learn that she could also move her hooves and turn. She took to this quickly and zipped around with her companions. This must be what it is like for her butterflies to move through the air.

A loud cracking sound startled Mestra Amymone, and she froze in place, eventually sliding to a stop. She didn't know what it was, but she could see in all directions. She was in the middle of the clearing, so nothing could sneak up on her. The wiser course seemed to be returning to the cabin. As she took a step, she heard another loud cracking sound; it was coming from beneath her. The ground shifted, and a long, splintery fissure opened up. Not knowing what this meant or what to do, she made a final attempt to move. The ground split beneath her and she fell into it.

Suddenly, Mestra Amymone couldn't breathe, and it felt as though she had just been stabbed by ten-thousand knives all over. She tried to cry out, but bubbles escaped, and then the icy water was in her mouth and lungs, freezing and burning her. There was no solid ground below her, but she could see light above. She thrashed and kicked and did everything she could to reach up toward it. Her head broke the surface with much coughing and sputtering. She barely had time to take a breath before she went down again. Her heart was pounding, and the sound of blood rushing in her ears was deafening. She tried to remain calm, but she was shaking all over. She did not like this place, not at all.

Through the same efforts, Mestra Amymone once again made it to the surface. She had the presence of mind to remember a single word that the wise old unicorn had taught her. He told her to use it if she ever needed him. Drawing in another lungfull of air, she felt herself going down again.

Mestra Amymone screamed as loudly as she could, "HELP!"

Then the water was all around again. She couldn't feel her hooves, and the pain of the frigid water didn't seem as bad now. She was choking on it, but it was all she could do to fight and reach the surface again. This time, as she came up, she tried to climb back onto the solid ice again. It broke off under her weight. She managed to keep her head up, kicking hard and pulling at smaller pieces of the shattered ground that seemed able to stay on top of the water.

Unable to even find her butterflies, she cried out again, "HELP!"

Then another piece of the ground gave way beneath her, and she plunged into the water. She suddenly felt rather confused. It was hard to remember why she was struggling so. She shook her head, but realized it was no good. She couldn't overcome the water. Her muscles ached and her legs didn't want to respond anymore. This would be her last attempt to get back on solid ground, and Mestra Amymone knew it.

Finding the sweet taste of air once more, the distressed mare managed to grab the icy edge. She didn't try to climb out this time, and was able to support herself on it enough to keep her head out of the water. She was crying now, because nopony had come. She had used the word that the wise old unicorn had taught her, but nothing happened. She was alone, tired, and numb from head to hoof.

Just then, the ground fell away, and Mestra Amymone felt herself floating up into the air. Her butterflies swirled around her and she shivered and shook uncontrollably in the cold. She landed on the snowy bank and threw up the water that had been inside her lungs. She looked up to see the old unicorn. He wasted not a second as he picked her up, she was like jelly, but he managed to get her onto his back. The trip back to the cabin was miserable, but the unicorn never stopped for even a moment. They burst inside, and he very quickly stripped the soaked woolen clothes from her and began adding logs to the fire. He left her for a moment and then returned with a large towel and began drying her off. It was rather a strange thing; the fire should have been warm, it always was, but Mestra Amymone couldn't feel it; she could barely feel the towel. The old unicorn used a second towel and continued vigorously rubbing her down, starting at her head, and working his way down each leg in turn.

It was nearly a half hour before Mestra Amymone felt anything. It began with a prickling like sharp needles piercing her body. Eventually, the feeling worked its way down to her hooves, but it hurt significantly more by the time it got there. The old unicorn brought some hot chocolate as soon as she stopped shaking enough to hold it. He had been crying.

"Please," he said, his gruff voice somehow very soft this time, "Don't leave like that again."

Mestra Amymone nodded quickly at this request, deciding that there was quite a lot more she needed to learn before it would be safe to go outside on her own again. The old unicorn cleared his throat and began tending to the soaked clothes that were on the floor. He looked back at her a moment, his eyes glistening with what looked like sorrow before he wrung out the sweater, scarf, and hat and hung them on the opposite end of the room to dry.