They met upon the old forgotten stile, far below the clouds of her home; the mareless moon waxed high above them, tauntingly close and yet so far, her light washing the colour from the town and its alleys.
They met to exchange secrets, because secrets are like gifts- to be given only to the right pony, and rude to give away once received.
There, Pinkie Pie told her a secret to rock her world, to stimulate her senses, to buckle her wings in flight. It was life changing, age defining- the ancient whispers of love gods in her ear.
Not.
"You ate twelve ginger snaps without asking when you were a filly. Is that honestly what you came here to tell me?" Dash asked incredulously.
"What were you expecting, silly?" the earth pony wondered, too loudly.
"I dunno!" Dash snorted. "Crushes, confessions, the good stuff!"
She once heard that an unrevealed secret is like a flipped coin. You don't know the outcome, but suddenly you realise what you want the outcome to be. For the first time, she understood what it meant.
"Dashie? Have you got a secret for me?" Pinkie asked, suddenly quiet.
"Not on your life," she lies.