//------------------------------// // Fly To Me // Story: A Bluebird's Song // by Ardensfax //------------------------------// A Bluebird’s Song ~~~ The ends of the world Form a ring from here As wide as the eyes Or as wide as the mind can be ~~~ Fly To Me The view up here was incredible. At such height, the world spread and melted into itself beneath her, scraps and swathes of cloud and forest blurring into one another. Dash had always felt so content up here, alone with her thoughts as she arced lazily towards Ponyville, saving her speed for the return leg, gaining height with each passing second to reach the thinner air. The sheer solitude of this most private of places never failed to take her breath away, no matter how many times she returned here. “I bet it’s quite a sight up there.” Dash smiled at the familiar voice, so close in her ear that she could almost imagine she felt the unicorn’s breath on her fur. Sometimes, the right company was infinitely better than solitude. “I’ll take you up this high someday,” she replied, shouting over the hissing air and glancing back over her shoulder at the rapidly-fading Cloudiseum. At this height, she felt herself breathing a little faster than normal, but she cut through the thinner air with a wonderful smoothness. The insulated suit protected her from the worst of the cold, but she felt it bite harshly at her face as she moved ever onwards. She had attained these speeds with barely a thought, her wings locked and unmoving at her sides. She knew that she must have been travelling at several hundred miles an hour; the buffeting wind howling in her ears was testament to that, but at such a height the ground below seemed to inch by, scarcely appearing to move at all. “I’d like that,” came Twilight’s quiet voice. Then her tone became businesslike. “You’re only a few minutes from Ponyville. You need to turn to begin your run as soon as you cross the Everfree border.” Dash looked down, her eyes sweeping the landscape ahead of her. In the middle distance lay the rustic scattering of fields and houses that comprised Ponyville, thatched roofs gleaming up at her in the midday sun, lying on the lowering edge of the dark green forest. The Everfree curved around, cutting a dark swathe through the landscape, dominating the north-eastern vista. Dash had never before appreciated just how close Cloudsdale was to Ponyville; at these speeds the journey had been a matter of mere minutes. She realized that her concentration was wavering in and out of thought, and it almost cost her. An errant gust of squalling air clipped one of her hooves, and her rear legs collided with a painful crack, sending a sharp bolt jabbing up the muscle. She let out an involuntary grunt as she forced herself back on course. “Are you alright?” Twilight’s voice was sharp and concerned. “Yeah,” Dash replied. “I’m good. Just a bit of turbulence.” “On the way back, the air’s going to be the most dangerous thing by far,” Twilight said, warningly. “Don’t take it lightly.” Don’t lecture me, Twilight, Dash thought to herself, a little irked. This is what I do best. She shook her head, dispelling the sudden burst of irrational irritation, and feeling rather angry with herself. She’s not lecturing you. She cares about you, and you owe it to her to keep yourself safe. Nothing’s going to happen to me, she thought, a warm burst of confidence filling her, replacing the self-criticism in favour of the thrill of the open sky. I can’t be touched up here. “I won’t take this for granted, Twi’,” she replied at length, although a nagging question sharp in her head queried the truth of her words. With a shake of the head to dispel the disquieting thoughts, she put on an extra spurt of speed, waiting for the moment to begin her run. Below her, the Everfree border inched ever closer. * An expectant hush had fallen over the Cloudiseum, as the cyan form of the pegasus arced beyond sight into the sky. The judges had busied themselves once again around their respective machines, and Twilight was darting from one to the next, keeping an eye on turbulence, as well as Dash’s speed, course, and altitude. Rarity and Fluttershy were watching her a little nervously; it was as if she were waiting for something to go wrong. Twilight knew that Dash had done this many times before, but something had seemed different about her today, just before her takeoff. She had not seemed the understatedly self-assured mare who had offered her comfort and reassurance on the stadium’s roof only a few minutes previously. Something about her demeanour was different, and a little worrying. She had caught the look in her friend’s eye many times before, before she attempted a nigh-impossible stunt or some insurmountable challenge. It was the look that had been on her face before she charged into a dragon’s cave in a moment of frustrated impatience. Perhaps it was the crowd; something about the sudden idolization and attention had begun to snap her back to how she had been before. No. No, she’s not weak enough to let that happen. Twilight trusted Dash more than anything, but even so, her self-assurance seemed weak and a little unconvincing. * I still can’t believe she feels the same way. As the speck that was Dash arced towards the Everfree Forest, Rarity’s eyes were focused not on her, but on Fluttershy. She had no idea what had made the timid mare change her mind, but change her mind she apparently had. It was all she could do to control the impulsive smile that kept threatening to break across her face, and she forced herself to temper her sense of joyful surprise with caution. Blueblood had taught her to approach romance extremely carefully, and never to take anything for granted. She knew that she risked setting herself up for a fall if she once again fell into the trap of idealism. Fluttershy’s not Blueblood, you know, she chided herself. She rejected you in the first place to avoid hurting you. She wouldn’t change her mind now if she didn’t know for sure that she could see this through. I just want to know why she changed her mind… Oh Celestia, I hope I didn’t make her feel guilty or beholden to me. Stop second guessing her. This is why you asked her to wait, isn’t it? These are the things you two need to talk about. She realized that she was staring vaguely at the back of Fluttershy’s head. As if feeling the impact of her gaze, the pegasus turned her head, blushing a little when she caught the direction of Rarity’s eyes, but smiling a small and nervous smile nonetheless, her eyes partially hidden beneath the coyly-angled hat. For a moment, she might almost have been mistaken for seeming flirty. The small smile held such promise, and now that she was getting over the shock of their interrupted moment, it seemed that Fluttershy was relaxing and letting herself feel the pleasant lightness of a shared burden. The timid pegasus had apparently realized that Rarity was genuinely not angry with her for her change of heart, and the gratitude in her eyes was palpable. Rarity felt her heart rise into her throat a little. Twilight’s voice cut through their moment of introspection, addressing Dash. “You’ve crossed the border over the Everfree, that should be enough of a run-up for you. It’s time to start heading back.” * Dash grinned as the words sounded in her ear, the moment of internal conflict long forgotten. “Let’s get this done,” she muttered, lowering her goggles and mouth-guard, so that she would be able to talk in spite of the wind. “I’ll tell you when you’re entering the measured mile,” added Twilight, her voice framed between nerves and excitement. There was a moment of silence, and Dash could sense the unicorn steeling herself. “Good luck, Rainbow.” “Thanks, Twi’,” the pegasus replied. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder, judging her next move. Forget the wings. They don’t matter. They’re only there for stability. She repeated the mantra that she had lately used to help control her flight with her mind alone. Don’t flap, don’t flare. She threw herself into a half-corkscrew, pulling hard around to the right, the distant land flipping and blurring as she twisted in mid-air. Fixing her eyes dead ahead, she locked her wings at their fullest extent, and closed her eyes for a moment. Let’s go. The effect was immediate. She could feel the familiar adrenaline-spiking tug of acceleration, as she cut through the sky like the blade of a knife. The air whipped at her, forming into a smooth slipstream in her wake, both freezing and exhilarating her in equal measure. Still, the earth below her barely seemed to move. A roaring filled her ears, and she willed herself onwards. This was the easy part. If something went wrong now, she could put the brakes on, and most likely bring herself to a halt without injury. Before too long, however, and this would not be the case. A few scraps of high flying cloud were the only clue to her true speed. They whipped past in blurred strands, vanishing almost instantly behind her, or ripped to shreds by the vortex created by her passing. She eased herself gently to the right to avoid a patch that she was swiftly approaching, not wanting to mist up her goggles, and shifted herself back onto course. She had been a moment too early, however. The tip of her wing clipped the edge of the cloud-bank as she passed. The sting shot along her primaries, and for a moment she veered off course. Her first thought was to try and correct the buffet, but she was trapped by her own slipstream, and if she tried to go against the flow of the air around her, the force of the impact would probably injure her. Instead, she allowed the motion to reach its natural conclusion, twisting herself around in a smooth barrel roll, finally leveling herself out, her heart pounding from the surprise, still willing herself into acceleration. She could have sworn that she felt the magical energy humming in her wings. As soon as she recovered and regained her sense of direction, she called to Twilight, realizing that she had wasted precious distance in righting herself. “I’m going higher, I need to get above these cloud patches.” “Got it. You’re on course, stay on that axis,” Twilight informed her. Dash smiled at the tone of voice. She could just imagine the expression on the unicorn’s face as she feverishly analyzed the data presented to her. There was nopony else more meticulous; nopony else she trusted more to be on her ground crew. She was in safe hooves, that much was certain. A tell-tale whine began to build in her ears, a conical silver corona forming around her, whipping itself away into the shape of her slipstream behind her. She gritted her teeth, the familiar resistance pushing back on her, just as it always did moments before the breach. This part was always one of the most challenging. Keep those wings steady. Screwing her eyes shut, she forced herself to overcome the ever-increasing drag, feeling as if the air itself was conspiring to keep her on the dull side of the sound barrier. No matter how many times she performed this stunt, it was never any less taxing. The throbbing whine was shaking through her, filling her ears, clouding her mind. She made one more effort of will, pushing herself forwards. Then, the sky around her seemed to explode. Her vision whited out for the briefest of moments, as she came crashing through the sound barrier. * There was a collective intake of breath around the stadium. Twilight and her friends stared, awed as usual at the sight. Above the horizon, way up high, came a flaring blaze of prismatic light. The shockwave rolled out, glowing and vivid even so many miles above them. All was silent; almost eerily so. After all, Dash was bound to arrive before the sound of her Rainboom reached them. Then the cheers began to rise up from the crowd, who got to their hooves as one, the sounds rolling around the stadium as the wave of rainbow light dissipated into tendrils on the horizon. For most of them, this was the first time that they had seen a Rainboom. It had clearly not disappointed. One beam of light, however, remained; streaking towards them up high and drawing a die-straight rainbow line across the sky behind her, glowing in her approach. If Dash had been too small to see before, she was certainly visible now. Rarity watched the fading shine in silence, her eyes wide and her mouth open a little at the spectacle. She felt herself shiver slightly at the perfect balance of boldness and beauty. For some reason, the sight evoked those long days shortly after opening her boutique for the first time. Her only escape from the disorganization and the sudden workload had been her books. The compilations of pegasine poetry left behind by one of the line of stallions with whom she had, for such a fleeting time, shared her life. A history of imperfections, of temporary solutions, of lightning conductors, but still a history that she could not bring herself to regret. Or to forget. Her head was suddenly full of the memory of Fluttershy’s scent, and the questions that came bound up with it. One verse in particular came to mind, a few errant lines from a well-worn and long-lost anthology of poetry. She found herself murmuring the familiar words to herself, and she still found them rolling off her tongue with ease, despite the years. “But find me in the cloudscape’s amber swirls, The swathes you cut, the sights that pass you by Now rest your heavy head; your wings are free-” “So tell me, love, why do you fly to me?” Rarity’s eyes shot open at the soft voice near her ear, pre-empting her words, and she saw Fluttershy’s gentle smile as the pegasus stood at her side. Rarity blushed, partly that she had been overheard, but mostly in pleasant surprise at Fluttershy’s knowledge. “You’ve read that poem?” The timid mare nodded. Her cheeks were tinged pink, but less so than usual. She seemed almost composed, although it was clearly a struggle. Her voice, when she spoke, was low and measured. “Rarity, you know you said that we needed to talk? That you needed to understand me?” The unicorn nodded, blushing too at the intensity of Fluttershy’s expression. She knew that even discussing such matters as this must be cripplingly embarrassing for the eponymously shy pegasus, and she admired her resolve. “Well,” Fluttershy’s hoof pawed nervous circles into the cloud beneath her. Rarity heard her take a deep breath, and she looked up to suddenly meet the unicorn’s eyes. “Would… would you like to go out for dinner with me sometime?” It was all Rarity could do not to squeal out loud, but she could not contain her smile no matter how hard she tried. Fluttershy looked overjoyed at the alabaster mare’s reaction, but her blush had returned in full force and she hid behind her mane. It seemed that Fluttershy’s bouts of courage were as short-lived as ever. “I’d like nothing better, Fluttershy,” Rarity replied, gently, as soon as she felt sure that her voice was under control. Fluttershy let out an audible sigh of relief, and fluttered a couple of inches of the cloud surface in her excitement. She landed, biting her lip as if she wanted to explain her motives. “It’s just… I feel like I made such a mess of things up here,” she eventually blurted out. “I just want to start over. I want to do this properly, I…” The unicorn rested a calming hoof on Fluttershy’s withers, and the latter fell silent. “It’s okay,” Rarity murmured, soothingly. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me, darling. I trust you.” Fluttershy sighed, and the sound was unusually contented, free of the stresses of the everyday fears that the pegasus carried on her back. In one last flare of courage she turned and hugged Rarity tightly, nuzzling her cheek, her shivering breath tingling down the unicorn’s neck. “Thankyou, Rarity.” Above them, the shining rainbow streak approached, her speed rapidly building. * “You’ve broken thirteen-hundred!” Twilight’s voice was almost drowned by the roar of the air. Dash’s teeth were gritted, her mind honed into that now-familiar state of determination and focus. She knew that her slipstream was protecting her, but if she went even slightly against the flow of the wind around her, she would be utterly exposed at such deadly speeds, and the force of the air would shatter her wings like sugar glass. Don’t think about that. You’ve done this dozens of times in practice. Speech was largely beyond her now, so she did not reply to Twilight’s update, preferring instead to concentrate on keeping her course straight and level. She could see the Cloudiseum again now, a round speck far below her on the edge of Cloudsdale’s sprawling aerial mass. Her speed was still steadily increasing. The horrible drag of mental fatigue was beginning to weigh at her, but she was not worried yet. If anything, she felt better than she usually did at this point in practice. Usually her fear of what might happen if her wing edged outside the slipstream tended to nag at her, but today her worries were somehow allayed, leaving her free to concentrate on the task at hand. She did not know the reason for this sudden fearlessness, but enjoyed it immensely. “Nearly there, Rainbow. There’s a bit of turbulence just east of you, stay sharp.” Dash could already feel it; the slight shake in her primaries, the tell-tale signs that something was up ahead. Carefully, she eased herself to the left, as gently as possible. She missed the main body of the turbulence, but she felt her wings shaking hard as she was buffeted by the residual air flow. The Cloudiseum inched closer; it seemed almost directly beneath her now, the stands clearly visible, filled with microscopic ponies. She caught sight of the square dais in the centre of the pearly oval, although it was too distant to pick out individuals at this height. She realized that she was still trailing a rainbow pathway behind her, straight as an arrow as it lanced across the sky. Well, at least they’ll be sure to see me. Twilight’s voice sounded in her ear again, and with a sudden quickening of the heart, Dash knew what was coming. “Fifteen hundred, and holding. You’ll hit the measured mile in three… two… one.” * Twilight turned to the others, her teeth slightly gritted. Applejack had her hat pressed to her chest, Pinkie was bouncing on the spot with an ear-to-ear grin on her face, and Rarity and Fluttershy were standing beside each other, craning their necks to watch Dash’s overhead progress. The canary pegasus’s hoof was just barely touching the unicorn’s, and their motions had a strange synchronicity to them. But Twilight had no space in her mind to concentrate on anything other than Dash. The next few moments would determine everything; all the fears she had held so close and secret, for fear of acknowledging them. “Well.” She gulped, looking around at her assembled friends. “Here she goes.” Above them, the rainbow-trailing speck blazed across the sky, now close enough to be visibly pony-shaped, if somewhat blurred by her speed. The crowd had fallen silent, and even Celestia in her royal box was staring in quiet admiration at the sight. A low, tooth-shaking rumble filled the air, as it was split by the speed of the pegasus. Limelight and the judges were glued to their machines. Twilight wanted to screw her eyes shut, but forced herself to watch. Her heart hammered, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead, only to immediately melt into her fur. Now or never. If Sunset were going to act, they would have to do it now. The noise suddenly increased tenfold in volume as Dash roared overhead. Even at this distance her sheer speed was clearly apparent. The crowd seemed to be holding its breath. The arcing blade of light overhead was the only real thing in the world, for just this one moment. Then, one of the judges turned and nodded at Twilight, signaling her. That was it. It was over. Just like that. In a strange way, it was anticlimactic. “Rainbow… You’re done. That’s it,” Twilight whispered, her voice suddenly choked. Wave after wave of relief built up and suddenly broke, crashing over her. She sank to her knees, and realized without knowing why that she was crying. All the weight and the fear was lifted from her, and her breathing was heavy and a little laboured. Her friends rushed to her, surrounding her, but she forced herself back onto her hooves. The world seemed strangely silent. The lightheaded giddiness was overpowering, but she had a job to do, and would see it through to the end. Above her, the speck was slowing down, already distant due to its sheer speed. Slowly, Twilight picked her way towards the judges, her cheeks still streaked with tears of relief. For the first time, she allowed herself to think about the future. Without being able to admit it to herself, she had until now refused to think beyond this day, refused to make the plans that she may never be able to enact. As if mirroring the sudden freedom she found herself faced with, the crowd burst into cheers. Suddenly, she and Dash were no longer trapped. They had all the time in the world. She read off the number without really seeing it. The record was, of course, broken. More than that, it was smashed. Even so, Twilight knew deep down that Dash would be disappointed. Fifteen hundred and ten miles per hour. Just short of the target that she had set for herself. It did not matter, of course. None of it mattered right then. Dash was safe, and that was the only thing of importance at that moment. “Dash?” She spoke into thin air, having to speak loudly to overcome the noise of the throng of ponies, who had stood to deliver a standing ovation. The figure ‘1510’ had been projected onto the Cloudiseum’s many spires, the number shining down on the stadium from all directions, for all to see. From the overall reaction, it seemed as if the assembled ponies felt that they had been given their money’s worth. For some reason that she could not explain, however, Twilight felt a strange, nagging sense of incompleteness. She did not know its source, and largely dismissed it as paranoia, but her paranoia had led her right before. It seemed like a fool’s errand to ignore its voice this time it came calling to her. “Twi’?” The pegasus did not sound tired anymore. If anything, she seemed more fired up than before, if the tone of her voice was anything to go by. “How’d it go?” It was all Twilight could do not to laugh aloud. “You were amazing. I told you you would be. Fifteen hundred and ten! The crowd’s going crazy down here!” There was silence from Dash. It stretched out for long moments, and Twilight’s smile faded. She looked up, and saw that the rainbow streak was no longer slowing down. It accelerated again, thrusting away into the distance until the pegasus was nigh-invisible once again. A moment later, the trail of prismatic light began to turn, still supersonic, aiming herself back towards the Cloudiseum. Dash’s next words were like a kick to the stomach. Her voice was flat; her tone would brook no argument. “I’m going again.” Twilight felt her chest constricting, and for a moment she could not speak; she could not breathe. Her brain, however, did not rest in its constant stream of analytical thought. She lurched towards the silver machine that was being used to map out turbulence in the area, almost trampling one of the judges in the process. It was as she had expected. The machine’s screen provided her with real-time information about turbulence in the area. Red meant violent air currents, blue meant clear skies. As before, most of the screen was blue, but a thick line of red was boiling directly over the Cloudiseum. The wake of air from Dash’s first passing. If she made another attempt so soon, the roiling air would tear her apart. “Rainbow, no! You can’t!” she yelled, desperately. Immediately, Applejack was by her side, her eyes fearful. “What’s goin’ on, sugarcube?” “She’s going again,” choked Twilight. “I can do this, Twi’,” came the reply, sounding in her ear. “I’ve got to do this.” Dash’s voice was determined and self-assured. Twilight screwed her eyes shut, beginning to panic. Dash was an amazing flyer, but she could not perform miracles. Battling her way through turbulence of this magnitude would simply not be possible. “No, Rainbow, you don’t understand!” she exclaimed. “If you try again now, you’ll hit your own wake. You’ve left behind so much turbulence from the first try, even you can’t get through it!” Still the pegasus could be seen accelerating towards them once again. “It’s you who doesn’t understand, Twilight.” Dash’s voice was suddenly low, already strained with the effort of acceleration. The rainbow trail now had a slight wobble to it, as she caught the tail-end of the air she had disturbed. “If I don’t do what I set out to do, this’ll just be another failure. I wanted a new life, Twi’. A new life with you, and I’m not gonna start that with a failure. I’m doing this for you.” “No!” Twilight screamed. “Don’t you get it? If you try and fly through these conditions at those speeds, you’re going to die!” Dash laughed, and the sound made Twilight more afraid than anything the pegasus had previously said. “Relax, Twi’. I’m the best flyer in the world, you know that. This is a piece of cake.” Twilight sank to her knees, tears rolling freely down her cheeks, the awful sense of powerlessness eating her from the inside. “You… You…” The crowd was humming in confusion, none of them really knew what was happening. Limelight and the judges were hovering on the sidelines, in a state of equal confusion. She promised to come back when I asked her. How could she betray me like this? Do I mean that little to her? “Now look here,” Applejack’s angry voice came from behind her, shouting into the air above her, which was once again starting to hum with the noise of the approaching pegasus. “Ya’ll are not gonna do this to Twilight! You get your flank down here right this buckin’ second!” “She can only hear me, Applejack,” Twilight said, her voice utterly defeated, her tears falling and pooling on the cloud beneath her. “And she’s not listening.” Looking around, she saw that Celestia’s box was deserted, and what was left of her heart seemed to vanish utterly. One by one, the ponies who she thought that she mattered to were proving her wrong. “Please, Rainbow,” she begged, her voice a barely-audible whisper. “Twi’,” came Dash voice, suddenly gentle. “I’ll be okay.” You won’t. This is it. “You promised me… You told me you’d come back to me. Please, come back to me…” * Dash felt good. No, she felt better than good. She felt amazing. What the hell are you doing? The force of the wind was shaking her, but she did not care. She could take it. The sense of supreme ability flooded her with an easy, confident courage. The sensation was infinitely stronger than it had been earlier, gripping her, forcing her onwards. She felt as if she could achieve anything. Twilight’s fears meant nothing, for what fears could the sky hold for a flyer such as her? You promised her. This is insane, why are you doing this? The small voice of reason was smothered. I’m doing this for her. I want to be happy with her. I don’t want to always be looking back at this with regret. Don’t you dare use her as an excuse. You need to put a stop to this right now. Land and pray to Celestia that she forgives you. You wouldn’t deserve it. The buffeting sensation was getting stronger, but she could cope. I can do this. You can’t. You know perfectly well that you can’t. What’s wrong with you? Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m not going to be weak any more. She gritted her teeth, pushing into the whirling, stormy air. Dash realized suddenly that she was thirsty; that the exertion was finally taking its toll. It did not matter; she was running on determination now, and she had seen how far determination could take her. It was as if two sides of her personality were in conflict. Without warning or explanation, the egotistical, selfish braggart that she had worked so hard to repress had risen up and taken her over. She willed herself to be sensible, but she was riding a wave of euphoria and denying her instincts was nigh-impossible. She knew, however, that she must. She was travelling through the suddenly-violent sky at over a thousand miles per hour. This was not the time for an identity crisis. Twilight’s fear-filled voice was still in her ear, but over the howling air it was impossible to make out her words. Come on, Dash. You’re the strongest-willed pony you know, but what good is that if you can’t control yourself? She was still accelerating, despite herself. She must be nearly above the Cloudiseum now. Right into the teeth of a storm of her own creation. She had seconds, and deep down she knew it. Why? Why are you doing this? You know it’ll end badly, just admit it to yourself. What’s made you suddenly so overconfident? Overconfident. Suddenly, breathing was difficult, as if the air had been sucked from her lungs by the shock. It was so obvious. Such a simple trap, and they had walked right into it. Like all athletes, the last thing she had done before the attempt had been to take a drink. The words of a letter came floating to the front of her mind, penned seemingly an eternity ago by Celestia herself, regarding the members of Sunset. …One of them is the acclaimed potioneer, Root Blacksap, who you may know as the inventor of the Draught of Foolishness… Then, the ghost of Twilight’s voice: …makes the drinker overconfident, prone to rash decisions… Sunset did not need assassins; they had been infinitely more subtle. It was the easiest thing in the world to spike a drink, especially when the guards were all watching the crowds for suspicious activity. Sunset did not need to destroy her themselves. All they had needed to do was give her a little push, and watch her destroy herself. Oh, Celestia. Twilight, I’m so, so sorry. Dash knew what was happening to her. She could hear Twilight’s voice, even now calling to her. The unicorn who had saved her in so many ways. The one pony who had stood by her no matter what, almost putting her own loyalty to shame. Twilight needed her, and she had made a promise. Suddenly, she could control herself, and began willing herself to a halt. She was still travelling at well over a thousand miles per hour, and it was all she could do to keep herself in a straight line, let alone reduce her speed. The pearly oval of the Cloudiseum was almost immediately below her. She knew that she the turbulence would be the worst directly over the Cloudiseum, because that was where she had flown the fastest. She was braking as hard as she dared. Her speed fell by over a hundred miles per hour in just over a second. Of course, it was not enough. Time was no longer running out. Time had run out. “Twilight!” she yelled out over the roaring gale. “Twilight, I’m coming down now! Sunset are here, they…” It was too late. She had crossed too far into her old flight-path. The next instant was like nothing she had ever felt. The roiling wall of air that she had tossed to gale forces in her wake struck her. Her slipstream was gone, disintegrated, crushed and flung aside by the force of the wind. She felt like a rag doll; utterly exposed. The current seemed to wrench her in two directions at once with a sickening jerk, and her wings snapped backwards, far beyond their natural reach. Dash was aware of a dreadful splintering, tearing sensation; it felt as if two white-hot knives had been plunged deep into her sides. She screamed, but the sound was whipped away from her, ripped from her lips and thrown aside. Her consciousness waned. Direction and distance and time meant nothing. A sense of falling. The cold, spiteful bite of failure. The sound of the mare she loved more than anything, screaming her name in panic. The knowledge that she could do nothing to comfort her. The darkness took her.