//------------------------------// // Fall // Story: Rainbow's Lonesome Road // by Centurion Pike-Wall //------------------------------// You want to know the most cruel part of her fall? That it felt the closest to flying she had experienced in almost nine months. The wind shot last her exposed flesh, turning the area around her scars ice cold. Loose fur and feathers shot out of her body, falling much slower then her. She shifted over so her face was facing the ground. It felt.....Wonderful! The stress of her face; it felt like she was flying again! If she shut her eyes, she could truly imagine it. She was heading down to preform a Sonic Rainboom. Then, reality caught up to her. She wasn't flying; she was falling. In panic at this realization, she began to call her one wing. While she did slow for a few seconds, it didn't help her. She just rolled in a circle, looseing her progress, and just went back to falling. Her flailing limbs probably didn't help, either. The ship was up pretty high, so she had some time to think of a plan. She continued to flap, leaning to the left to try to keep herself righted. It didn't help though; she just couldn't stay level. And even if she could, she didn't possess enough thrust to keep herself up. She stopped trying to fly or slow her fall. She began to look for something to break her fall. A few small pieces of metal, likely from the Ship(s?) Above, fell past her from time to time. However, these couldn't work. They were too small, and falling faster than her. Some wood was above her, but that power the same problem. Then, it hit her; the Clouds! After a moment of feeling like an idiot, she soon came to a problem. She was falling through clouds. But then she noticed that they were actually quite small. Most could hold a young foal, one around Scootaloos age, no older. And she was falling too fast to be able to push some together. If she could find a bigger one, Then she may be able to land on it. Seemingly, fortune favored her today. She was a large cloud off to her right. Angleing her wing, she began to flap for dear life. Her efforts were rewarded, when her forehoof caught onto the edge of the cloud. After a few seconds of catching her breath, she pulled herself up onto the cloud. It was a decent size, able to hold her and another pony her age. It wasn't the stark white she first made most of the clouds out to be. Instead, they were a light grayish color. She also noticed that they weren't the same as Equestrian clouds. These ones were a lot less sturdy, as if it would fall apart if she stood in the wrong spot. She guessed this made sense;, these clouds were made naturally, and not by the Cloudsdale factory, after all. As such, she stayed as still as possible, as not to make it dissipate. She knew she couldn't stay on here forever. She had no food, no way to hold water, even if she could coax some out of the cloud, nothing to keep her warm. It was quite cold up here, and her numerous scars weren't helping. She felt like a frozen Haydog that had slits cut in it. She needed a way down to the ground. Peeking over the edge, she was that she wasn't too far from the ground. Well, she wasn't too far from a tree. Maybe, say, a good fifty feet. If she could get the cloud lower, she may be able to jump to that tree. However, without the ability to fly, she couldn't just push the cloud down. Maybe I can push it down, by.....Jumping on it? She knew that it likely wouldn't work, as when she jumped on clouds back home, all that happened was it would cause the cloud to rain. But maybe, since these were different types of clouds, it could work. Not like I have much of a choice. And so, she bent her knees slightly, and jumped up. She fell right through the cloud on her way down. She began to scream and flail once again. The tree that was her target, a tall pine, was too far away, and so she fell right past it. From her initial high up position, she had some control over her descent. But, from such a short distance, she had jack-diddily-squat. Fortunately, she saw a smaller, and much closer, tree. Tucking into a position where she showed as little surface area as possible, she rocketed toward that tree. At the last second, she tried to level out and grab a branch. However, another tree, this one much closer, smacked her in the flank as she did so. So, she instead fell forward, her head impacting the trees truck. She then was used as a paddle ball by the two trees, bouncing back and forth between the two. Finally, she hit the soft mud underneath the tree. Well, 'soft' mud. It was better then the hard-packed, dead leaf covered path next to her. It still hurt like hell, and probably had mud placed in her old scars. If those caused an infection, she would be helpless. She had been taught basic first aid; bandages, common medications and there uses, splints and the like. Not infections from scars on her ripped open sides and back. Even though it was a few months after the, 'incident', the sounds still were not totally healed. Speaking of splints, she noticed her right foreleg was broken. Yeah, broken was right; the whole thing, at the knee, was bent the other way! Not much, but still. As such, she began to look for sticks from her seated position. Finding none in the mud, she looked over at the tree. A few low hanging branches hung just within reach, so using her mouth, she goes them off. Now, all she needed was a binder, to keep it on. With nothing around, she had to use mud. It was going to be horrible for it, but better then nothing. She then realized, she had something else. Her hair. It had grown back, and in fact, was much longer then back in Equestria. Unfortunately, she had no way to get it out. No knife, no sharp rock, not even.... Her teeth. She sighed. She knew she had no choice. It was this or use mud that would come off as soon as it dried. Using her non-broken foreleg as a fulcrum, she paid some of the uneven mop over it, clenched her teeth around it, and began to pull. It hurt, sure, but not as much as Colds torture, or the blades, or anything else she had to endure. It was a weak pain, and she ignored it. Soon, she had pulled out quite a bit of the multi-colored hair, and began to run it through the mud. Then, she looked down at her broken foreleg, and looked for a way to right it. She found this in the form of a rock, and another, much larger rock. She took the smaller rock, and picked it up in her mouth. Resting the broken Foreleg on the larger one, she lowered her head. She then jerked it up and down in one motion. A sickening *crack!* And a muffled cry of pain followed. Ultimately, it did work. Her leg was, more or less, straight. She braced the sticks up to it, and began to wrap the hair around it. As she did, her thoughts wandered. She had fallen so far, and not just literally. She was, once, RAINBOW DASH, for cryin' out loud! Potential Wonderbolt, Loved daughter, an all around Awesome pony. And here she was, scarred beyond recognition, with one wing and one flank that still had a Cutie mark, binding a splint with her own muddy hair. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. And it's all their fault! She blamed her former friends, or course. They had gone along with Celestias idea, and drove her away with Mare-do-well. Plus, they had, even if on accident, went her into the river. She hated them. Wanted to see them dead, or at least put threw the same pain she had been. She wanted vengeance. But, she mostly blamed Celestia. It was her idea to erase her memory, and the one who got the royal guard. She wanted to cut off her limbs, then gut her with her own horn, then....then.... "Gods, what am I saying?"