> Off Like a Shot
>  by Dizzy Daze
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Simply Dashing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rainbow Dash pranced in her small stall impatiently. Her blinders were secured, her harness was tight, and her jockey, a slim female named Jen, was in position. A man outside the gates stood ready, holding a pistol in the air. He fired a blank, and the door to the ponies' stalls whipped open. Dash, true to her name, shot forward, her hooves pounding along the dusty track. Jen leaned against Dash's neck, urging her on, the words lost to the wind. Dash passed one, two, three ponies in two blinks. In the lead, Soarin whinnied anxiously as he heard approaching hooves, smelled the sweat and determination that poured off of the smaller mare.

They pushed on. Dash drew level with Soarin, but he pulled ahead once more. Dash smirked and drew her mouth tight, gathering up the energy to dart past him at the finish line. But the stallion continued to gain distance, and Dash soon realized that she wouldn't be able to catch up at the last minute. Jen slapped her neck, urging her forward, and Dash sprinted. Still, she could not catch up.

Soarin stumbled as he rounded the bend, his front hoof catching in a rut, and he went down. Dash passed him in a blur, shouting, "Later, loser!" as she flew by. The end was in sight, now. She snapped her head around and saw the ponies behind her. Judging their distance, she slowed to a trot, and strutted across the finish line. Cameras flashed, and Dash posed, kicking up a hoof to point to her chest in her trademark pose. 

Jen hopped down and peeled her helmet off, tucking it under her arm. She rubbed Dash's head appreciatively. "Almost thought we wouldn't make it," she commented.

Dash snorted. "Soarin's got four left hooves. There's no way he could ever win."

The pair walked leisurely over to the track's stables, and Dash slid into the rented stall. Immediately, she dunked her sweaty head into her water bucket, drinking noisily. Jen reached into a bag on the ground, pulling out a water bottle of her own. After taking a great gulp of water, she sighed. "Phew. I'm exhausted."

Dash emerged from her bucket. "You're tellin' me," she complained. "I was the one who did all the work. All you ever do is sit there."

Jen moved behind the pony to remove her saddle. The padded leather seat was hung on a hook on the wall, and the jockey ran a squat brush along the pony's back. Dash nickered in contentment as the bristles smoothed over her coat. Jen chuckled and dropped the brush. She walked over to a burlap sack and pulled out two apples, tossing one to her pony and sticking the other in her mouth. Dash deftly caught the fruit, chewing quickly. "When're we up next?" Dash mumbled.

Jen checked her watch. "Finals're in 'n hour," she replied, speaking around a mouthful of apple.

Dash stretched her sore legs. "I'm gonna go for a walk. Wanna come?"

Jen shook her head. "Sorry. Gotta go check on the horses."

Dash shrugged. She trotted off, leaving her jockey in the stables, and searched around to find somepony she knew. It was usually the same ponies that showed up at these types of events.

She passed a sturdy wooden stand. It sold apples, carrots, sacks of oats, and barrels of water, in case anyone was inexperienced enough to forget food and drink for their ponies or horses. A weathered old man stood behind it, and a yellow pony grazed to the side. Dash trotted over and introduced herself.

"Hey there," she said excitedly, shoving her head into the pony's line of vision. "I'm Rainbow Dash. I've never seen you around here before. I mean, it's usually just the same ponies, over and over. What's your name?"

The yellow pony looked up with a scowl. "Depends," she said angrily. "D'you want my actual name, or the name that these idiots call me?"

Dash looked confused. "Uhh, aren't they the same thing?" she asked blithely.

The pony shook her head vehemently. "No way! Here on Earth, I'm Carrot Top, the lowly cart pony, but in Equestria, I'd be Golden Harvest, carrot farmer! Doesn't that sound so much better?"

Dash stood there for a minute, considering. "Eh, not really," she admitted. "Y'know, everywhere I go, the locals are always talkin' about this 'Equestria' place. I've never been there, and my human, Jen, hasn't either. Where is it? It sounds kinda nice, I guess."

Carrot Top's head shot up from the sweet grass. "You're one of them, aren't you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Uh, maybe?" Dash answered.

Carrot Top sighed. "You know, them. Those ponies that think there's nothing wrong with living under the humans' thumbs. You think that it's great that we're treated like animals, while the humans laugh and take advantage of us."

Dash shrugged. "Well, my human's always really nice to me. Besides, we sort of are animals. My cousin? She's an actual horse. Can't talk or anything."

Carrot Top narrowed her eyes at the blue pony. "Yeah, but we can talk. We think, just like the humans do. They're in no way any more capable of being in charge than we are."

Dash tilted her head. "So... what's that have to do with this 'Equestria'?"

The yellow pony's green eyes lit up. "In Equestria, the ponies are in charge. In fact, there aren't any humans at all. And there's different kinds of ponies; some can do magic, and some have wings, and some even have both! I'd still be just a normal pony, since I'm a farmer, but an athlete like you'd probably get wings. And we're ruled over by four benevolent princesses, and there's no apparent poverty, or hunger, or any kind of oppression. It's a waddayacallit. Utopia."

Dash stayed quiet for one beat. Two beats. Then she burst out laughing, rolling in the damp grass. "Princesses!" she gasped. "Wings!"

A dark red blush spread across Carrot Top's face. "You-you just don't get it," she protested. "It's perfect."

Dash caught her breath and stood up. "It's not real," she said. "Magic doesn't exist. Ponies can't fly. You're just one of those... Oh, what did Jen call them? LARPers. You're a LARPer. Don't get me wrong, it's a sweet game, but it's just a game. Don't drag me into it. I don't want to play."

The old man at the stand approached the two ponies, whip in hand. "What's all this racket? This here horse spreadin' lies again?" he asked, stressing the word.

Dash noticed the whip and calmed herself down. "No, sir," she said politely. "I'm one of the racers. Just stopped by to say hi. I should probably be going." She backed up and away from the other two, who were staring warily at each other.

As soon as the two were out of sight, Dash turned and ran back to her stable. Jen was across the way, chatting with the other jockeys, but she turned when she noticed her pony returning. "That was a quick walk," she said.

Dash snorted. "Ponies are crazy." 

Jen raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, she laid a blanket across the pony's back, took the saddle off its hook, and cinched it around Dash's stomach. 

"Already?" Dash asked.

Jen buckled her helmet and hopped on the saddle. "We've still got ten minutes," she explained. "But I think we should get there a little early, just in case."

The pair trotted to the track, where a few other ponies, horses, and riders milled about. The two horses stood next to each other, snorting and whinnying, while their humans discussed something rather loudly with the judge. No doubt they were trying to protest the ponies' presence in the race. Dash rolled her eyes, wondering when the humans would get over it. Ponies should be able to race if they wanted.

She stretched out her legs and jogged in place, warming up for the race. One of her friends, Spitfire, came trotting up. "Fancy seeing you here, Rainbow Dash," she smirked.

They hoofbumped, and Jen called down, "Hey, Spitz. How's Carl doing?"

Spitfire looked up at the jockey in vague discomfort. "I, uh, don't really know. I'm not exactly a people-pony anymore."

Dash looked surprised. "What, you mean you're...?"

Spitfire looked back at her friend and grinned. "Yep. One hundred percent free. Ain't nobody gonna own this pony. I'm actually not racing this one. Figured I'd come by and watch."

The judge shook off the two disgruntled riders, who returned to their horses and mounted. She announced that the race was about to start, and the racers stepped into their stalls, the doors closing behind them with a click.

Dash whipped her head around to grab a last look at Spitfire, who mouthed "Good luck!" at her friend. Then, Jen nudged the pony's head to face front just as the pistol shot rang out.

Dash scrambled to get her hooves under her as the door popped open and Jen nudged her forward. Dash stumbled forward, carried by the momentum of her trip, before she oriented herself, but she had lost valuable time. Only one horse trailed behind her, and he was rapidly gaining. In a panic, Dash poured all of her speed into her hooves, dashing past the middle of the group. Jen patted her neck reassuringly, muttering, "You got this. You got this," over and over.

Dash shot past the rest of the ponies, but her strength was fading. She was overtaken by Bulk, a hulking white stallion with a diminutive jockey. He sneered at her as he passed, and her blood boiled. She pounded onward, urging her muscles to keep moving faster. And faster she flew, drawing level with Bulk. She smirked, knowing that this race would end as the last one had.

Bulk drew ahead by half a nose, but Dash kept up. The finish line came into sight once more, and she drew a deep breath, as deep as she could take while running. She pushed herself to go faster than she ever had before, and drew ahead by a nose, then a head. Soon, Bulk's large, white head was level with her streaming, multicolored tail. She whooped in excitement, turning her head to stick her tongue out at the pair as she left them in the dust.

Then, something in her leg snapped. Like a block tower, she tumbled down in seconds, cringing at the pain running down her limb. Jen crawled out from under the pony as the rest of the contestants raced by. The cloud of dust settled, but Dash still lay there, crying silently and cradling a hoof.

Jen approached her pony and lifted up the injured leg to examine it. "It-it's my fetlock," Dash whimpered.

A thin, pale man approached from the sidelines. "I'm a vet," he explained. "Let me look."

He helped the pony to stand on her three uninjured hooves. He supported the injury as he examined it, lifting it up in his hand and evaluating it.

He heaved a sigh, and turned to Jen. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Your pony seems to have pushed herself too hard. Her leg... it's broken. When it heals, if it heals, she won't be able to race again."

Jen's eyes grew wide, and Dash grew hysterical. "What!? What are you talking about?" With a wince, she wrenched her hoof out of his grasp and set it on the ground. "See? It works just fine."

She tried to take a step, but her leg collapsed underneath her, and she gave a shriek of pain as she fell once more.

The vet drew Jen aside, murmuring to her in low, urgent tones. The jockey's face grew distraught, but she nodded grimly. 

Spitfire came galloping over to check on her friend. "Dash!" she cried.

Dash lifted up her head and chuckled. "Guess you're not the only one whose racing days are over," she said wryly.

Spitfire winced as she took in Dash's injury. The hoof was bent at an unnatural angle, and a white nub stuck out. She helped her to her hooves again, murmuring reassuringly that she'd be fine, but neither pony believed it.

Dash leaned against Spitfire as she stood, and Jen approached again, her eyes wet. The vet disappeared for a minute, and Jen latched her arms around her pony's neck. Dash bent her neck and looked awkwardly at her rider, confused. Jen was definitely not a hugger.

Spitfire glanced back and forth between Dash and the space where the vet had been standing. "No..." she whispered, terrified.

Jen drew back and gestured at Spitfire to be silent, but the pony refused. "No!" she shouted. "You can't do this! She's not just some common horse! I thought she was your friend!"

Jen drew her hands across her face. "Do you think I want to do this?" she returned. "Dash and I have been racing for years! But you know what happens when a racehorse outlives its usefulness. What has to happen."

The vet crept back onto the track, and grabbed Dash's neck. "Can we move off the track?" he asked her roughly. 

She shook her head, tears of hopelessness gathering in the corners of her eyes. "I can't walk on three legs. I don't know how." The vet sighed in exasperation. "What's going to happen to me?" she asked, panicking. She whinnied in terror.

Spitfire tried to race up to her friend's side, but two bystanders held her back. She bucked with all her might, but they remained firm. They clamped hands around her muzzle to prevent her from speaking. Dash looked around, her bewilderment building.

"C'mon, guys," she said. "That's not cool. Spitz isn't hurting anyone."

Jen put her hands on either side of her pony's face and gazed into her eyes. "Listen to me, Dash, I need to you look at me. Right at me. You're going to be fine."

Something in the corner of Dash's vision stirred, and she tried to look at it, but Jen held her head firmly in place. "Just look right at me. Everything will be fine." Her voice cracked, but she cleared her throat and continued. "They're just going to get a stretcher, and then we'll get you out of here."

Unseen by Dash, the vet raised a rifle and leveled it at her smooth, blue chest. A shot rang out, but it was different than the ones Dash was used to, the ones that started the race. It seemed deeper, more sinister. Then, a terrifying pain ripped through her chest, and she looked at Jen with betrayal written over her face.

Jen's tears were streaming unchecked, now. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she let go.

Dash slumped to the ground in pain. She picked up her head and tried to look around, but her vision was going fuzzy. She saw an angry, yellow blur with a shock of orange on its head trying to race towards her. Spitfire, she had assumed at first, but at a second glance, it appeared to be the pony from earlier. Dash struggled to remember her name. Carrot Top, right?

The pony's voice danced around her head, annoyed. "In Equestria, I'd be Golden Harvest," the voice said.

Equestria. Dash remembered everything else the strange pony had told her about that magical place. It had seemed ridiculous at the time, but now, as Dash struggled for breath, she yearned to find it.

Rainbow Dash closed her eyes, but it didn't make a difference. Her vision was still black. One lone thought floated through her mind as she drifted off.

"In Equestria, they wouldn't have done this to me."