“You still with me, Daring?” In Situ asked.
Daring looked up at her young protégé, trying to tell herself that he wasn’t so young anymore. Every time he went out of her sight, she kept thinking of him as the gangly, bouncy colt who kept following her everywhere and pestering her with questions about the best way to clear away dirt without damaging a find, which period each piece belonged to, or how he too could dodge arrows and outrun boulders if only he had the right routine. But then she looked at him and saw a thicker stallion with a choppy beard and plenty of grey hair in his mane.
She’d lost all of her own gray hairs years ago, replaced by white. The ravages of age had been kinder on her than she could expect. She still had her eyes and her mind, after all. But the rest of her had taken the first step to mummification. All of her joints were stiff at best, flaring up at the slightest motion when she hadn’t taken enough medicine. The feathers on her wings looked ratty and frayed, the consequence of less frequent molting periods. Her glory days passed by decades ago, and the archaeological society had decided, after one too many reports of faltering hearing and reflexes, that her days of retrieving priceless relics had ended. Now she was one herself, or so she’d grown accustomed to thinking when she felt like joking.
“Huh?” she asked him. Her hearing had not fared as well as her eyesight.
Situ walked back over and tapped her on the shoulder. “I asked if you were still going to see our present. It’s just up ahead.”
“Really now?” Daring asked, glancing around at the end of the path. “Because I can’t help but notice you’ve led me to the graveyard. I should probably tell you you’re not on my will, at least not if you’re gonna be this obvious about it.”
He jumped back from Daring and tripped over his own hooves, almost planting his rear on the ground. “What? What do you think I’d—”
She let out a creaky laugh and reached out to help him back up. “I’m just kidding, Situ. I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that.”
“I can’t believe you’d joke about something like that,” Situ said as he brushed his legs off.
“Well, you still haven’t told me why I'm here, squirt.” Daring peered at the rows and columns of tombstones, decorated and carved with love and reverence so that no two of them looked alike. “You don’t need to tell me I’m gonna die. Surprised it didn’t happen sooner, honestly.”
A twisted, anxious frown crossed situ’s face, complete with an evasive look in his eyes. “It was the society’s idea. They thought you’d appreciate the expense.”
Daring would have tilted her head if she could trust her neck to remain flexible. “The what? No, don’t tell me. Might as well get it over with. Lead the way, Situ.”
He did just that, weaving through plots and tombstones to the back of the cemetery where the most ostentatious of monuments lay. More than once she passed by a statue of a confident, rearing stallion or mare eager to be remembered forever. But once she reached the corner with the mausoleums, she found herself having to do a double-take. The newest, largest, most impressive one had a compass rose cutie mark above the door. Instead of the fluted columns she’d seen on neighboring mausoleums, she saw the square spiral engravings and other decorations endemic to Neiztec architecture.
“Holy smokes,” she whispered. “Is this… is this mine?”
Situ nodded. “There are murals inside, too.”
Looking inside, she saw that he was right. Aside from their relative newness, the embellished depictions of her career’s highlights couldn’t be more authentic.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, a stunned smile on her face.
Situ sighed in relief. “They got you pegged, didn’t they?”
“Sure did! I’m just worried that ponies will plunder this place after I’m dead.”
They both shared a laugh at the idea. “That needs to be on your coffin,” Situ said after catching his breath. “Shame those weren’t your official last words, eh Daring?”
She shrugged. “You can just fudge the records for me if it’s so important to you. Or I’ll say it again when it’s time.”
“But that could be a few years, Daring.”
“Yeah,” Daring said. “I can only hope.”