Flag sat in the corner of the survivors’ camp, well away from everypony else. Once they’d had a moment to relax and reorient themselves about the fire, he and his brother had split off from the others and claimed one of the now unused huts at the edge of the camp. It gave them privacy, and they knew that none of the other survivors, save maybe Ratchet, would try to bother them.
But while Flag mostly kept his thoughts to himself and inwardly reflected on all that had happened that night, Roger restlessly paced in front of him. Once he’d been going for half an hour, however, Flag decided to intervene for his brother’s sake. “Try lying down and sleeping. You need the rest.”
“How are we supposed to sleep in a place like this?” Roger asked, maintaining his pacing. “We fall asleep, they slit our throats in the night and we’re done.”
Flag sighed and rolled his eyes. “They’re not going to do that.”
“They’re not going to do that?” Jolly incredulously stopped and turned to face his brother. “Are you out of your mind, Flag? We can’t trust these ponies! We’ve been fighting and killing each other for so long that it’s impossible!”
“We’ve also figured out there’s a lot more going on here than just pirates and survivors,” Flag growled at him. “It’s the living against the dead. And right now, the dead are winning, and we’re only on time out.”
Jolly Roger sneered and went back to his pacing. “It’d be too easy for them to just get rid of us in the chaos. I was expecting a knife in the back that whole fight on the tomb stairs.”
“Then you’re not seeing the bigger picture.”
“The bigger picture?” Once more, Roger came to a stop and fluffed out his wings. “The bigger picture is that we’re fucked! We’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, Flag. We’ve got these mummies on one side and a bunch of ponies that could kill us whenever they want on the other. In case you forgot, it’s just the two of us, now. That’s it. No Squall, no Hayseed, no nothing. And how many do they have? Six? Eight?”
“Enough,” Flag muttered.
“Yeah. Exactly. Enough to get us killed!” Roger pulled a knife out of its sheath and started playing with it using his feathers. “I say we just slice ‘em down, one by one, while they’re sleeping. You and me, we can clean this place out easy.”
Flag glared at his brother. “We will not do that,” he insisted. “These ponies are the only allies we have left.”
“These ponies will be the death of us!”
“Then if it comes down to it, I’d rather die by a knife in the back then the jaws of a snapping moon zombie.” Flag stood up and moved deeper into the hut, where he reclined on a pile of bedding. “I’m throwing my lot in with them. We’ll figure out how this all shakes out when we’ve got a way back to Equestria. But if you start causing shit, I’m not gonna bail you out.”
He flopped down on his side and shut his eyes. “If you’re gonna keep pacing, then keep it down. I’m exhausted.”
-----
Rarity’s vision was blurry and her hooves felt lifeless and heavy by the time she finally made it down to the beach. Walking in a straight line had simply become impossible for her; her tracks zigzagged and twisted all across the sand, sometimes taking her as high as the sparse grasses at the base of the mountain or as low as the water’s edge. The only thing that kept her moving was momentum, momentum and sheer determination, but even that was starting to fail her. The moment she fell over, Rarity knew, she’d never be able to stand again.
She shivered, and her teeth chattered in her jaw. Even though she knew it was still a warm night in the tropics, her blood loss left her feeling cold and clammy. Assuming she ever made it back to her supplies, she knew she’d want to start a fire to keep herself warm. But wanting to start a fire and actually starting a fire were two wildly different prospects. She didn’t even know if she had the strength in her to do that.
She also didn’t know if she had the strength in her to survive the night.
Rarity stumbled and only barely caught herself before she could fall into the sand, using the knee of her foreleg to prop herself up. She felt like her whole world was spinning around her, and the hazy hands of death started to creep in from the corners of her vision. It took all of her effort just to stay in that position and not completely collapse into the sand.
“Mmrff… mmmmfffffff!” Rarity grunted at herself through a throat as dry as the sand beneath her. “Come on… stand, Rarity! Stand up!” She groaned and her legs trembled as she tried to find the strength to stand up, but she couldn’t even get her weight off of her knee and back onto her hooves. She gasped for air after several seconds of effort, and her legs suddenly gave out on her, sending her toppling into the sand. Sediment slid into her open mouth as she lied on her side, gasping for air, feeling like she was suffocating even as her lungs heaved and hyperventilated. Her heart fluttered in her chest, rapidly increasing its beating while her pulse began to fail. Pins and needles climbed up her extremities and even began to penetrate her face and her core, and she started shivering profusely.
Her eyes spotted trees further along the beach, so close, yet so far away. She knew that her supplies rested beneath them, with lifesaving food, water, and bandages. But she was far too weak to reach them. Even keeping her eyes open seemed impossible. The only sensations she had left were the feeling of cool sand under her body and warm blood decorating her flank.
Bit by bit, Rarity felt her body begin to shut down. It started with her heart, which began to twitch and flutter weaker and weaker. Darkness forced its way over her eyes, completely stealing her sight from her. Her heaving chest started to slow as her lungs tried to get oxygen to her dwindling blood supply, a blood supply that was quickly becoming insufficient to keep her body functioning. Without anything to stitch up her wound immediately after cutting herself free from the stalactite, Rarity had simply run out of time as her life escaped through the hole in her flank.
As she slid further and further into the void that awaited her, Rarity thought she could hear singing in the distance. Sad, melancholy, slow singing. It was like a lullaby for the soul, a soothing farewell for her final rest. It calmed the lethargic worries of her mind, and soon the song was all she could hear, all she could experience. It flowed over and into her like water, and she submersed herself in its cool feeling. She thought she could hear it drawing nearer, but even thinking had become impossible.
She exhaled one more time, and then… peace.