Down the Road

Earth; North America - Montana

"...and that is coming to you live from...." An overly lively feminine voice chisels through the chill morning air of a darkened bedroom, much to the moan and groan of something desperately trying to be anything but. Reaching out, but in growing desperation to it's futility, the wayward hand swipes the air just above the stand next to the bed. "...the last best place!"

"Tell that to my cold feet that just moved." The deeper voice with a bit of morning croak mutters out just as his hand collides and knocks several objects off the stand, causing the hand to slam down with the bed head ridden man pulling himself partially out of his bed, jabbing his voice towards the mess almost incoherently. Flaring his covers off just enough to jump out of bed and almost onto the floor on a snag, he shivers and grumbles all the way to the door, turning and pulling in all the warmth hovering just outside.

Stepping out and then closing the door behind him in a slam, he instantly feels the freezing claws of cold cut at his feet while the rest seems to enjoy the bathe of sunlight from the large windows aligned all across the home. Shaking his head while giving his brow a good rub, he wastes little time in walking along the open hallway of his small two story home to the stairs, stumbling but a few times in his temporary stupor.

Rounding the bottom banister, he heads not for the bathroom or kitchen, but the large open living room with but one couch, table, and overly large TV sitting on top of one and much too close to the other. Cracking out a cuss to the catching of his toe, he leans down and presses the one thing he greets every morning first and foremost.

Leaving the beeps and clicks to do their thing, he walks to the hamper next to the couch and pulls out a few balls of clothing before finally finding something to his liking. Getting fully dressed, he turns on the TV with his remote as he makes his way over to his kitchen and fridge, pulling out one of many bottles filled with blue liquid before lumbering his way back to his comfy throne.

Sitting back down, with his normal routine before him, he takes a swig before rolling his shoulders and lifting a long tray with a mouse and keyboard up and over his lap. Placing his hands on both, he briefly drifts out of his focus to the large desktop demanding his full attention to which he submits, even if the total relaxation of both hands shows but a moment of discontent only to the cat at his side.

"How did you get in here?!" Daniel yells in light surprise and annoyance to his supposed companion, staring intensely onto the Russian Blue cat who just falls onto it's side and begins to purr. "Dude, go home!" Of focused intent scratched and bitten in play. "Ow!"

Of another bout of claws and sharp teeth later, much to the light bleeding now upon his hands, does Daniel finally get the feline wrangled up in his arms and escorted quickly to the front door. Opening it up to but a beautiful day by even the most modest of standards, he lightly drops the cat on the wooden porch before sliding shut the door between them.

"Now stay out you little..." His eyes, focused on the cat, can only follow as it patters away with a lingering purr out of sight. Leaning in, he does his best to look alongside the glass to the absence of any annoying cat, until the noise from another room forces them to close with a cuss. "...bastard."

Letting his head touch the glass once more in self defeat, he finally opens his eyes while letting them drift to front and center, landing onto something that would remind anyone else the difference between the front and back of their home. Keeping with his solemn stare, even as distraction patters it's way back to between his feet, he flares his nostrils.

"This is all your fault."

Looking down towards his immediate frustration, at the same time being given a rather talkative response from one who beckons only more, Daniel shakes his head as another call rings out from far outside. Pushing himself off the sliding glass door to the noise, he moves but a bit quicker to keep farther ahead of she whom would try and trip him up for further denying tribute. Grabbing hold of his boots, he quickly slides them on while resting on the opposite knee before taking but another claw to the finger.

Taking comfort in his better armored legwork, he walks far more casually back to the kitchen, opening and taking but a few more bottles from the fridge before putting them in a knapsack on the counter. Ignoring further interference, he grabs but a few more items for an seeming long day away before slinging the knapsack over his shoulder. Walking back through the open doorway, he reaches over and nonchalantly drags a bag off a shelf and onto the floor in an explosion of clatter and purrs. "Beat you to it."

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was about time you started getting some pu-!" The new visitor, standing with the back door wide open, quickly closes it to the glare just sent his way. "It's been too long for you to still get this mad, man!" Only to crack the door open but a few inches, "Figure you could use some help and I ain't got nothing going on!"

But as a few inches suddenly becomes twice that, the man instinctively pulls back with all his might.

"Well what did you expect me to do? Let you become some old cat lady of the valley!?" The man struggles even more even as he begins to use both hands and even a foot along the frame to the ever increasing pull against his own. "Damn it, Daniel!"

Standing just inside, eyes half closed with a stare closer towards the floor, Daniel merely holds onto the doorknob as if stuck in thought rather than external struggle. With no warning in or out, he suddenly loses his grip along with with his lack of focus as sharp crack of splintering wood allows the door to slam past the frame and out onto the porch as something else falls clean off it.

"Ah shit. Hank!?" Daniel pushes the crooked splintered door off and out of the way in his rush outside, having instinct worry to the broken wooden rail of his floor level deck before he jumps down himself. "Hank! Hey man, you okay?!"

"Nnnnnnngh." Hank moans out with closed eyes, slowly in a shaky motion raising his forearm up towards the sound of his name, one sided doorknob still in hand. "Nnnnnnnngh!" Once more, with the sound coming more urgent and closer, until the swipe barely misses.

"Hey now!" Daniel yells with dying urgency to the relief of seeing his friend try and hit him with the doorknob, and subsequent quick rise both in body and glare. "Ah, h-hey you shouldn't go and try moving so much after taking a fall like that, Hank." Backing up a bit quicker, even as the partially hunched over figure of his best friend growled and grumbled to try and latch on. "How you feeling?"

"Well considering I just fell and busted my ass on a stump I feel great!" Lunging forward again, only to nearly topple over before reaching back and holding his palm like an old man to his left ass cheek. "Hold still and let me show ya!"

Raising his brow, Daniel decides instead to move backwards with a bit of a kick, much to the crazed wide eyed expression sent his way. Doing so but again several times, with even more bounce, Hank can take no more from the the pain in his ass as he gives chase with the most awkward of colorful cuss words to each hobble. With one almost skipping backwards and another holding onto his ass while trying to run with most effort on one leg, they both finally reach Hank's truck and begin to encircle it, much to their stumbles.

"Hey Daniel." A feminine voice with a flat tone mutters with her palm propped up against the side of her head, elbow resting on the rolled down window with the most unamused expression. Content to ignore Hank who slowly begins to come into his handicap, she waits until another pass to speak again. "How's life been treating you?"

"Fine." He responds before clipping the side mirror and taking a hard fall, to which he crawls into recovery. "You?"

"Not bad, I just..." Flicking her eyelids open a bit when forced to stop mid sentence until next pass. "I've just been getting things..." With but another, even more intense flare, with her chin dipping down just a bit. "Don't make me get out of this truck, Hank!"

"Wha.. what?!" Hank staggers into a standstill, with Daniel finally doing the same at the driver side window. "It wasn't even my dang fault! Daniel's the one who can't take a joke and decided to push things a bit too far!" Leaning a bit into the passenger window, much to the frustration of it's occupant, "Come on Dillon baby, don't be like that."

"Wasn't ever going to get serious or nothing." Daniel pokes his head in through the open window just a bit. "Hank made a joke. I made a joke. The stump got the last laugh. Animals all wondering where the hell their food is at."

"Well, go get anything else you need and throw it in the back. Less you're against some help, Hank and I been meaning to come visit and do some catching up." With a tone and reminder of priorities helping calm the situation further. "Right, Hank?"

"Uh, yeah yeah." Hank looks around a bit before finally making eye contact with Daniel. "L-listen, Daniel I'm..." Getting not even a few words in before seeing Daniel scoff and wave a hand before heading towards the garage. "Same old Daniel."

"Well, that's what you're counting on, isn't it hon?"

"Ain't been around in a year and it's like we never left. Was counting on lot of the good being around and hoping some of the bad up and finally got tired of hanging around doing..." Struggling to find the right kind of word. "Nothing."

"Hon, he's doing what he's always done, and getting along just fine. The house looks fine. He seems to be healthy considering you're the only one out of breath." Dillon makes sure to grin on the last part before continuing. "Just glad you didn't start where you left off."

"Almost did, I think." Quick to look away from the disapproving glance sent his way. "I... made a joke about finally getting some."

"Hank!"

"Well what did you want me to say? Hey Daniel, sorry I up and deserted you for over a year cause I think you're torturing yourself. Oh hey, I notice you still live like a hermit. Glad that punch did you some good!" Finally showing a bit of defiance to the one refusing to relent. "Far as I can tell, he got me back good and now we're squared away. Just cause you don't understand it, don't knock it."

"If you could of only seen the irony of what you just said." Dillon can only shake her head, even give a few bouts of subtle laughter, to the idea. Settling in, she slowly loses herself in her thoughts of years long since past, coming back just in time to hear the devious yell coming from her left just as the truck sinks down and up hard, losing much of what sat in the bed.

"Now! Now we're good!" Hank looks wide eyed into the rear view mirror while laughing far too happily to the yelling still coming from behind the locked tailgate. Showing a moment of possible concern, his grin returns to the rising reflection of the sole risen finger.

Flinching closer to her open window, she quirks an eyebrow to the invigorated return salute swing back and out the rear window, giggling when the one she gives to the driver only instigates antics further as a more somber laugh cannot help but escape her lips.

Several hours later

Having made a few rounds, much to the renewed memory of just how much land Daniel seemed to own, they eventually make their way past the growing and harvest fields towards one of several large barns. Old deep grey planks line it's entirety, complimented further by such a large center beam that no new building would risk showcasing. Showing it's age by in and out, such would displace the notion of how active and lively it's purpose might be, with cattle and even a few horses sharing but a home.

"All yours?" Dillon asks with a hint of curiosity, having opted to rest on the lowered tailgate.

"Dirt and wood, sure." Daniel answers while leaning against one of the more sturdy fence posts, paying closer attention to Hank having made his way farther inside to explore and possibly test his fate. "Should I tell him to stay out of the pasture there?"

Dillon, wondering if the question was closer to deflection, decides not to pester too hard. "Anything bad in there?"

"Just a bull." Giving a small shrug.

"How... long?" Her question, answered as a massive block of overly eager muscle jumps and kicks out of the barn, causes her some concern to the ability of one still with a limp getting clear. "I kind of need him, you know?"

"Bull won't hurt him none. Guy's just been waiting so damn long he's a bit over the top, is all." Lifting his chin a bit in distant observation. "Been known to nibble on ya, though. Ha! Dove inside the old hay feeder."

Continuing to watch with some concern and amusement, her fidgeting catches just enough to help push things along.

"You know, for someone who came back to make amends, you sure seem nervous." Daniel leans just a bit more on the post, crossing his forearms over the uneven top to no consequence of discomfort. "Never held nothing against either of you for acting like you did."

"Well, we... um." She begins to fidget even more with the fumbling of her words. "Did." Looking over as if to try and catch even the smallest clue or cue, her apprehension begins to shift into further frustration. "And I call bullshit! Don't... don't do this again, please?"

"Do what?" Finally turning to face she who seems unable to directly do the same. "Did you really wait a year to come back to ask me the same damn thing that only seems to piss you off?" Raising his palms up. "Just quit being so damn sensitive and..."

"That you don't care!" Sliding off the tailgate with hands shaking but slowly clenching save for the one beginning to point a finger his way. "Okay, I admit it! I can't stand... this!" Stomping on her way to meet him shy of only a few feet. "To any of us!"

"Well I..." He begins, only to grow silent to the sudden close of open space between them.

"Don't you dare make a joke." Narrowing her eyes.

"You know, not all jokes are meant to make you laugh." Finding his frank choice of words misunderstood with the light, and visibly hesitant, jab to his right shoulder. "Dillon, you grew up around me. Hank did too."

"So did Charlotte." Dillon keeping her less than happy expression, at least finds firm footing. "Didn't stop her from marrying you." Only to flare up again with a quick but missed lunge and grab. "That wasn't meant to be funny!"

Making a bolt here and there with just enough room to spare, Daniel seems to lag behind each escape until finally getting snagged by just a few clenched fingers of one whose temper only grew for each subtle snort of amusement. Finding little pull, Dillon affirms to standing firm, finding far more conflict inside than out as she seems unable to bring the situation back in line.

"We're moving."

Daniel huffs out a bit of air that ends in a subtle gruff, but remains silent in stare towards something farther away.

"Hank's uncle wants to retire before he ends up having a second stroke. It's a good business and would let Hank do some of the things that he's been unable cause of money. Most of our families are spread out now, and needing to be honest, nothing here holding us." She keeps her voice small, only to drift even softer. "Didn't want to leave on a bad goodbye, or a broken..."

"Bull's stealing your man." Lifting his lone finger to point towards the far off man getting roughed up to the pounding impacts of a playful bull with far too much pent up energy to the hay feeder. "Wanna go help him?"

"If he was in any real danger you'd already be there." Her eyes burrowing into that which does not return even a passing glance. "Like you said, we all grew up together. I know the last thing you like talking about, is you."

"Cause there isn't much to talk about."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I'm satisfied with that." Daniel puts his hand in his pocket to bring out a thin metal rectangle. Turning it in his hand before sliding it back down inside the pocket, he quirks an eyebrow when he turns to see the concern in Dillon's eyes. "What?"

"Nothing." She huffs in reply, shaking her head before walking away from defiance to one in earnest need. "Nothing at all."

Nearing Dusk

Daniel looks into the driver side open window of the truck with little distinction across his face, aside from his stare slowly but surely crossing hairs with the driver, while merely causing agitation in it's passenger. Staying silent, it takes only that to bring it to an end.

"Alright, what happened." Hank taps his pinkie finger to the index on each hand in rhythm to his weary patience.

"Nothing." Comes an answer, both left and right, before left decides to forgo safety and take the plunge.

"Dillon told me you're moving." Making sure not to look past Hank. "Congratulations."

"Well it's a good job, you know. Hate to leave something so familiar but never was into ranching or... ranching." Looking up towards Daniel. "Neither were you, If I remember. But then again you've never been the type to try something new."

"Never saw the need in spending all your time trying to find something to waste it on." Letting his brow show his nonchalant honesty over the matter. "But then again I'm too old to be traveling clear across the country like you stupid kids."

"You're younger than me!" Narrowing his eyes to the thought. "And I'm not old!"

"You're almost thirty." Forming a grin to the growing frown. "But don't feel bad. Dillon's even..." Cutting his words off to the pressure against the hinges of a flung open passenger door. "Didn't think she could manage to still hear that."

"Not too old to still kick your ass you little..." Dillon yells while running after an already far ahead Daniel back around the two story cabin, causing the driver with the ache of an old man to just laugh and watch and wait.

Rounding the far front corner of the house, Daniel seems to keep his lead even as he begins to slow down halfway back to where he started. Looking around, with none giving chase in sight, he finally adopts a look of curiosity until the jerry rigged back door falls onto the porch with a loud crash. Gaining the quick attention of Daniel and Hank, Dillon seems to almost lose her nerve as she holds something tightly in both hands and hesitantly walks off the porch to just in front of Daniel.

"I... I'm going to take this, okay?" She can only hold her hands tighter under his unreadable stare. "But I'm going to make sure it's safe. A-and if you want it back, you'll have to come and visit!" Seemingly losing steam with each word, she quickly walks up and slides a piece of paper in his front shirt pocket before moving past and back into the truck. "Go."

"Dillon?!" Hank looks at her in confusion and shock, "Dillon, what did you go and..." but is gently pushes back when she reaches over and starts the truck herself, with a few tears beginning to fall. "...I hope you know what you're doing."

Backing out of the drive, the two keep an eye on their childhood friend for any sign of escalation, or maybe for just anything at all. Stopping only to put it in forward on the road, the truck sits for a few seconds before finally revving up and moving down the road.

"Goodbye, I guess." Daniel simply stares towards the steps of his porch, etching from his throat but the few words in an unusually solemn tone that even surprises it's owner. Closing his eyes as he breaths in deep and out, he finally moves forward to and up his steps before reaching down and picking up the splintered door once again. "Gonna need a whole new door frame now."

Walking inside his house, he notices the mess in the kitchen but thankfully, just that. Grabbing the broom and dustpan, he cleans up the food left on the floor in silence before going to the fridge with little satisfaction towards it's contents. Making a sour face to the mystery solved of several containers, he promptly throws them in the trash before exiting his house once more.

Heading towards the garage, he picks up a bucket and a shovel and walks back around the house towards a fenced in area, gatherer empowered to row after row of dead plant and plain dirt. Seemingly undaunted, he walks between the rows until he finds a bigger clump of dead plants before stomping his shovel deep in the soil and then up again. Repeating this process several times, he drops to one knee while rummaging with meager success.

"All the money It put into you and this is all the bigger you spuds gonna get?" He grumbles with being able to hold several in one hand. "I wanted skillet fried, not tator tots, damn it." Before digging his hands back into the dirt with brow raising surprised.

Pushing harder and harder, with fingers failing to grip over the rather large potato, he finally manages to twist it out for even greater reward of even more hidden just under it. Picking up the shovel, he carefully digs around the find enough to get a good wide clump to twist out, eagerly rolling the dirt off each and every one before dropping them in the bucket. "Huh?"

Tipping the bucket towards his vision, he rolls it back and forth while looking inside with inquisitive eyes. Shaking it a bit with both hands, he noticed nothing different before throwing half a dozen more ample spuds in, satisfied with his haul and upcoming dinner.

Picking himself back up, he grabs the shovel and handle and walks back to his house, dropping off the shovel before climbing his steps and just inside on the mat. Untying his boot laces, he smacks them a few times out the open doorway before dropping them back inside. Sliding the splintered door over, he jiggles and crushes splinters before finally getting it to stay under it's own power.

"Bout damn time everything calmed down." He talks openly to himself as he dumps the contents of the bucket into the sink, pausing only to consider the louder than expected thud. Scanning the sink as he turns on the water, he shrugs it off as he far too quickly washes each one before putting them in a large plastic bowl on the counter, only to grab a towel and knife before heading to the living room couch.

Cutting into the first potato, he seems to pay more attention to the news feed on the large TV as each peeled is casually placed aside and a new one given a clumsy grab. Shaking his head from the contents upon his screen, he jolts and looks down upon his hand as the sting begins to fill out across the outside of his left hand's index, crimson already beginning to creep into every crease.

"A rock?"

So damn far away that the time doesn't matter; Canterlot - Exhibition Gallery

"This, is so boring." The filly hangs her muzzle down almost to the marble tile floor, much to the huff of her mother and father whom seem to be far more content to the nature of their current activity. "Please say it's almost over!"

"And that brings us to the half way mark of today's tour! Next we have...!"

"Oooooooh..." The filly moans loud enough to be lightly chastised by her parents, whom now pick up the pace to catch back up to the forefront of the tour as they look around in awe and genuine interest. "Who cares about a bunch of old things, anyhow."

The tour, a few dozen strong of stallion and mare both young and old, trot along behind the mare guide as she eagerly boasts each and every display shown. Of every tidbit of information, both formal and with a bit of theatrical play, comes across loud and clear as the unicorn uses her magic to help boost her verbal performance. But it is one particular display that garners even more...

"...and it was through tireless trial and error that we have come to know all that we have today. Of one such trial, personally ventured by the fabled Starswirl the Bearded himself, was the means of teleportation! Every pony, not just the unicorn, has benefited from the research into what was once considered far too dangerous and forbidden. For he who crafted each of these stones, filled with the guise of seeing pony kind see but a better day, we shall be sure to remember no matter the passing day."

As nodding and light single hoof taps ring out to the speech, to which the mare guide holds her muzzle just a bit higher to her pride, does the one little filly move past her parents. Seeing nothing in the harm, the guide nods towards the mother and father as the filly gets closer and closer until she stands almost side by side with the guide, facing just the other way.

"Why's one missing?"

"Hmm?" The guide mare looks first down towards the filly before following her guise. "Ah. That would be the 11th stone, little miss. Written documents along with the Royal Sisters themselves confirm that one had been lost during the very earnest of trials."

"But what happened to it?"

The filly looks back and forth from guide to ensemble of oval stones, each marked with a number up to the number fourteen. Taking a cue to add a bit more interest to the display and it's history, the guide mare looks towards the parents for permission before continuing.

"It was lost, to where, no pony knows. But I did hear of something used often through the elder years of Starswirl the Bearded to try and lay to rest that very question!" Leaning in closer with a small smile. "But I might need your help to do it."

"W-what do I have to do?" The filly asks of the unknown, to which the mellow whistle garners even the seldom whisper nearby to cease almost immediately. "Huh?" To the slow but gradual change in decibel at least a dozen times. "You went too fast!"

"Don't worry." The mare giggles a bit. "All you have to do is your part. It's the final part, the most important part even. I'm going to lead off and just listen a few times, and when I am done..." She once more does the first sound with her pursed lips, "Okay?"

Trying to mimic, the filly makes several attempts, much to the gentle corrections made each time by the guide mare until finally reaching perfection. Having to smile at the amount of interest shining through the filly's smile, she herself messes up on her first attempt to lead off with but a small rush of blood to her cheeks. Holding well to the innocent laughter, they finally begin.

Montana

"A rock?" Daniel stares at the object as the sting begins to grow. Reaching for the towel, he gets but a single flap in the air before he nearly falls forward into the table as the voice is stolen from the shock of immense pressure, and pain.

Holding himself just inches from face planting into the table, he finds barely enough to breath as for just a moment the pain and pressure taper off to the utter confusion settling in it's place. "What the ever living faaaaaaaah!"

Canterlot

"We did it! We did it!" The filly jumps in place in excitement as the guide mare stares with wide eyes onto the display in ever growing fear as each stone leading up to the missing eleventh pulsates with light until a deep resonating vibration resets them. The filly, turning to her parents, looks on with confusion as the mother rushes up and picks the filly up in her teeth. "But I was good!"

The display, shielded in very thick glass, continues to shimmer from the white light of each stone pulsating with growing intensity to the vibrating vacancy. With the guide mare slowly backing away, much to the spread of her anxiety to her audience, the glass finally shatters to the boom of another sequence denied as ponies begin to panic and run away.

"It... it's trying to force... oh Celestia." The guide mare whispers in a fear repressed voice. Barely noticing the other attendants flying or galloping to the ruckus, she can only see her own reflection growing through each and every one. "Help!"

Montana

"This is for emergency calls only! I don't know who you think you but it's a Federal offense to...!"

"Fucking listen to me! The god damn rock is trying to kill me!" Daniel begins to yell in anger with the phone's receiver right against his mouth as the tone of denial reaches his ringing ears. Throwing the house phone against the wall, he falls down to another sudden influx of pain and pressure as the dishwasher, fridge, and every loose drawer is pulled towards him.

Grasping his free hand to the mid forearm of his other, he screams out as the eventual pop of his fingers slowly begins to erode his judgement as he searches for relief. Coming into a stare upon the serrated knife somehow hovering mid air, he serves himself only further damage when his hand smashes into some unseen barrier. Giving a few good kicks while sprawled out on the floor, he only then notices the lack of anything immediately underneath him before another pulse almost blackens his vision.

Canterlot

"Come on, come on!" A mare pushes past any notion of patience as she tries to help a few stragglers evacuate, literally using her tail to whiplash one who stops to look back at what could very well be their end. "Get your flank in gear!"

Reaching over and taking another one of more elderly handicap by the side scruff of their neck, she does her best not to injure them just as another pulse knocks enough debris loose to knock them to the ground. Yelling out in pain along with several others, she manages to find just enough strength find out that she can no longer stand, forced instead to try and crawl a bit closer.

"I'm sorry!" The mare cries through dirt laced eyes as her form along with the others shimmer and shine. Brief golden glow before an resounding succession of pops, all vanish into thin air as the presence of another takes their place.

Clarity.

He always thought of it. Sometimes, he even wondered if he had maybe achieved it. Through trials and ventures, success and failures, he always latched onto the very notion that out of anything he might find something that he could carry with him. It was his song, his motto, his defiance. No matter what might happen, he wouldn't let anything keep him from moving forward.

Even now, laden with confusion and pain, all seems to cease for but a instant in time. Perhaps a gift, or moment of insanity. But there never lay a time in his life, as he stares towards the 500 gallon propane tank rolling elegantly in the air towards him, that he might finally understand but such a simple word. Even as the light around him dims to the authority of even greater brilliance, he cannot help but try and sum up his life in preparation of his answer.

Showing no resistance to the slow but eventual crawl of darkness once more, for which he just as openly accepts as a fitting finale, he seems to find only comfort in knowing that he can finally move on.

"Thank you."

She would stand there, for some time longer. Her muzzle lifted high into the air as her guard ponies handled moving any of their injured to the local hospitals. Of her knowledge, and temporary relief, no pony would have perished in such a tragic turn of events that would bring full swing mishaps mistakenly forgotten. But she cannot open her eyes even as her sister frantically calls her name, for if she were to do such, she would also be forced to lower her muzzle and lay claim to what paid that which they did not owe.

Battered. Burned. Broken. In her moment to contain such precious novelties of her long lost youth, she forced the point of entry to cannibalize it's push for air in on itself. She strained to saved all her little ponies. She worked to protect that which once belonged to those long since gone. But she will struggle against the life she so easily sacrificed in the name of those who would never have approved, when only she would open her eyes.

"<...thank... y...>"