AGC

Rainbow Dash awoke in a cold sweat: nightmares of that fateful day at the bakery would no doubt plague her for months to come. That had been almost two weeks ago, now; she was well on her way to recovery, physically.

Mentally, however, she was a fragile wreck: whenever she saw a bird or pegasus soaring in the sky, blissfully defying gravity, she was reminded of what had been taken from her. All pegasi are trained in flight from the moment they are born: for most, flying is second nature: one walks, runs, swims, and flies without a second thought to how or why they can. Being robbed of flight would be unthinkable to the average pegasus: it's literally a part of them, as taken for granted as a unicorn's magic or an earth pony's green hoof.

The sun was up, now; she'd been asleep for nearly ten hours. Dash got out of bed, mindful of the scarred stubs projecting from her shoulders, the only remaining physical scars of her near-death experience.

Why hadn't AJ come to wake her up? She was supposed to start working soon.

She emerged into the dining room, where the family was just finishing breakfast.

"Hello, Rainbow!" chirped Apple Bloom.

"G'morn'n, Dash. Ah tried ta wake ya'up, but you were out cold," said Applejack.

"He he... yeah. I... I really don't know if -" Dash started.

"Hush, sugar! Now's not the time to be worrying: today, you start earnin' yer rent!"

"Rent? What rent?" What kind of friend would charge a crippled pegasus rent?

"She means that'chya gotta start workin' today, Rainbow." said Big Mac. "Tha'ss all."

"Aaaallll riight..." she sighed. She'd been begging to start working, though as time went on, she was having more and more trouble hiding the reality of her night terrors from her hosts.

Rainbow followed AJ out to the orchard. "It's real' easy, actually." she said, propping a cart against the nearest tree. "All ya gotta do's give it a good kick, right in the center 'a the trunk." she continued, mimicking her words. The tree shuddered, and a dozen large, ripe apples fell into the cart. "You give it a try."

Rainbow Dash turned around and forced her rear hooves into the trunk as hard as she could. With a modest thud, the tree politely declined to release any apples.

"C'mon, you can do it. Put your weight inta it."

Dash wound up again and released her hooves, leaning backwards into the kick. Her leg collided with the trunk at an odd angle, and her hoof shaved the bark from the tree in an upward stroke.

This is going to be a long day...

Pinkie felt good.

Pinkie felt great.

She didn't know where she was, or how she got there, but that didn't matter. The last thing she remembered was doing her job, and being excited that her best friend Dashie was able to help.

All she saw around her was whiteness: in every direction, as far as she could see, nothing but flat white plain. Plain was boring. She preferred frosting. Or sprinkles. Or cu-

Come closer. A sourceless voice echoed across the room (if it was, in fact, a room).

"W-hah-who?-what?-where?"

Direct thy gaze upward.

Above her, Pinkie saw the most beautiful thing she'd ever beheld: its myriad of gossamer, fragmentary wings hanging lifeless; its downturned, desiccated face crowned with an echinated, charcoal horn, coursing with veins of magical light; all wrapped in the most wonderful linens, and suspended from gorgeous ebon chains which stretched as far upwards as the eye could see: Rarity simply must see this!

Suddenly, a dull pain rang through Pinkie Pie's head.

Pay attention.

"Teehee. You talk funny."

Thou shalt not speak unless thou art spoken to.

"Okie! So whatcha want?"

An... upset has been had. Thou art become—

Pinkie knew what the the problem was: this wasn’t the first time.

"Dead? But I'm right he-"

Images flashed in Pinkie's mind:

Playing with Dashie.

The door bursts open.

AJ says something. Pinkie can‘t understand her accent.

How rude. She was so close to finishing her game with Dashie, and Applejack barges in uninvited. She must want to play too!

She ran to embrace the workhorse: there was a crack, something hard, and then

Pinkiefeltgood.Pinkiefeltgreat.Shedidn’tkno—

"Why... that no-good... she ruined the game!" Pinkie was furious.

Exactly. She must be punished.

"But how? I'm dead!" she chirped.

Simple. Another will be appointed.

"'kie-dokie. Who's that gunna be?" Pinkie inquired, almost bouncing with glee.

That decision is thine to make. Thou art well-trusted: choose wisely.

Ooooo, and she knew just who it should be.

This was going to be rough, thought Rainbow Dash. 8 hours straight and she was still having trouble bucking a tree.

"You'll get the hang'a it, Dash. The more ya buck, the easier it gets." said Applejack. "Besides, hard work builds character, not that yer lacking there, and..."

Dash wasn't entirely listening. Her mind was on more important things: food, sleep...

Sleep. Definitely. She was as tired as a cloudworker during typhoon season.

Immediately after dinner, she scampered into bed and fell asleep.

Rainbow Dash came to with a start: the nearly-commonplace dreams of dark basements, glimmering knives, and cupcakes had a tendency to disturb her rest. But...

This wasn't her room. This wasn't a room at all. It was shapeless, endless, white; kind of how she imagined Pony Heav-

"Hello, Rainbow Dash!" said a familiar voice.

Dash's heart stopped. How-

"What'sa matter, Dashie?" mocked Pinkie. "Cat got your tongue? Don't worry, there aren't any cats here, just you 'n me!"

"I... how? You-" Rainbow Dash stammered, barely able to control the torrent of thoughts rushing through her mind. Pinkie was dead. Dead.

Dash was speaking with a dead pony. That meant -

Dead pony. Talking to her in Pony Heaven.

She panicked. "I'm sorry, Pinkie. I don't know what I did to upset you, but please... I'm not ready to die!"

Pinkie looked puzzled. "Die? Who said anything about dyin-Oh, right! Our game!"

As the words left her mouth, the surroundings blinked from stark white infinity into blackness.

She could here Pinkie breathing. She could smell sugar, cinnamon... blood. Dash knew this all too well...

The lights flicked on. The cellar. No. Nonono. Anything but this. Not again. Not the rack. Not the —

"Relax, Dashie. I'm not gonna hurt ya." Pinkie reassured.

Dash slowly noticed the lack of macabre decorations and surgical tools. Her panic softened.

"Wha-What do you want, P-Pinkie?"

Pinkie was hopping in place with excitement. She'd always been nice, but had never quite helped somepony so directly, so generously.

"I’ve got a job offer for you."