Rainbow Dash was tired of mountains. She had climbed what, two? Three? Five mountains in her lifetime? That was six too many mountains. She had dreams of destroying one when she was younger. She told Twilight about that one; received a talking to about the airspeed required to demolish a small hill. She didn’t dream about destroying mountains after that. She did dream about flying but then again, what else would she dream about?
She dreamt about flying and about falling and about the softness of a mare. More recently she dreamt of drowning; of getting lost in the night sky as the whole world turned its’ candles off one by one. She dreamt of a cold you couldn’t shake even with a kerosene bath. Even with a lit match. She tried not to dream anymore if she could help it. To dream was to struggle against an immovable object, to throw worthless force against a wall of feeling.
To struggle and strain against the earth was far more familiar to Rainbow Dash. To beat her wings in desperate defiance of the nature of the world around her was commonplace. She lived constantly at odds with many things; physics being chief among them. Still she strained and struggled, hooves scraping and ankles aching as her body protested up the side of one of the steepest mountains in Equestria. She opted not to use her wings; the stories of pegasi with theirs torn clean from their sockets by the wind was enough to keep her earthbound.
She hadn’t used her wings in what felt like ages actually. Months spent motionless at home watching her savings dwindle, a month after that spent at Fluttershy’s cottage. She made her peace the first time there, with Tank and the girls. All the merch sold, all the money donated, all the dreams handed down to somepony who could carry them. She didn’t use her wings on the train of course. A long train ride it was. It felt longer than a trip to the Crystal Empire, longer than a balloon to Yayakistan, longer than a night spent listening to Twilights’ lectures.
She fluffed her wings open for a moment just to make sure she and her body were still on good terms and the air caught their broad surface from behind. She collapsed, eating a mouthful of dirt and gravel and sharp stone. She spat out earth and licked blood from swollen lip. She gritted her teeth and carried on. Perspiration stung her eyes and clung to her tongue, the salt a welcome change from iron. Iron and bitter herb, having chewed a leafy bundle she had been gifted many moons ago that was only now coming into play in the final days of her life.
These were not meant to be final. Most days’ weren’t meant to be final but were instead chosen at random to carry with them that lofty distinction. To live the last of your life in full awareness was not a feeling most ponies were fortunate enough to be burdened with. For most it was quiet; like a soft breeze into a gale, like gentle rain on tin rooves before the twister hits. For Rainbow Dash it was a single solid suggestion in a haze of many long and aimless years.
Meet the Sky for the last time, Rainbow Dash.
That’s what Spitfire had suggested as she plucked the Wonderbolts pin off her chest, as she folded her flight suit, as she folded her last dream up and stuffed it away to be forgotten. Meet the Sky. Rainbow Dash had met the sky a million times, a million and one or two or three times. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow; always melting into the blue infinite like she was returning home. Now she would return home fully, release the last of her idle body to the vast knowingness of the Sky.
Remembering the past like this was a good way to pass the time but the past was passing her like a blue bolt hurtling towards the ground. That was the herbs, their leafy presence gone from her life but present still in the acrid taste that stuck to the roof of her mouth. She sucked her palate, grinding her tongue against the roof of her mouth in vain. This kept her content until she crested a hill. She moved her wings next; first opening the right then the left then both at once. It was important to remember she still had them. After all, she wasn’t jumping. She was flying straight down.
She allowed herself to fly a short distance or perhaps forgot of the danger inherent in doing so. Maybe danger to her was a foreign concept. It always was in one way or the other. Now it was more so, like language or the face of her friends from… Ponville. Or Manehattan? Whatever. That is where she met them and that is where they would stay, despite their best efforts to convince her. Convince her of what? Right, flying down. Sky. Meeting again, for the last time, for the first real time since she came screaming into this world.
The pinnacle. The world stretched out in front of her but it was of no concern. The sky stretched up and out and above her, darkening in blue as her eyes traveled upwards. Her soul followed her gaze and she found herself climbing. Her wings moved of their own accord, called out to the Sky by instinct alone. She climbed and climbed and climbed. Her wings strained and her heart hammered in her chest and her mouth stank of anise and foxglove and blood and sweat and she climbed and she gasped for air before sinking. She fell. She caught the air and beat her wings against the world and it responded, pushing her down even faster. She saw the ground rushing up to meet her and she rolled onto her back and the Sky rolled into her and she—
