Twilight Sparkle knew that she'd made a mistake: the exact second that she'd finished making the laborious turn on to her right side, a harsh beam of sunlight struck her face, eliciting a tired groan of irritation from her pinched muzzle. In her dozy state, she swatted futilely with a hoof at the light, hoping to divert it around her.
You planned this, didn't you?
It was a stupid thought, she knew, but she couldn't help thinking it all the same; Princess Celestia was known to play the long game when it came to her pranks, and it would be just like her to alter the axial tilt of the sun just so that it would filter in through the tiny gap in the curtains in Twilight's bedroom.
Is it because of what I said at the last Grand Galloping Gala?
If she could've just rolled over on to her other side, or hid under the duvet, or squeezed her eyelids tightly shut that would've been fine, but Twilight felt the familiar pain in her hip beginning to flare up once more; dragging herself into a seated position, she tried to contort her wizened body into a position that would lessen the agony. Bitter experience had taught her, however, that she would just have to suffer it merciless prodding.
“How much longer must I endure this?” she mentally asked Celestia. Her one-time mentor deigned not to answer, though Twilight was certain that she could hear her giggling somewhere in the back of her mind. “You get too much of a kick out of watching me suffer.”
A curse, that's what it is, Twilight reckoned with a mocking shake of her head; no matter what she did, she was doomed to never again enjoy the bliss of a peaceful night's sleep. When she'd been younger, it had been because of various friendship crises or the threat of world-ending disaster.
Now it was inflammation of the joints.
It was certainly one of the more novel calamities to befall her, and Twilight wondered just how much more success the various villains that she'd faced down over the years would've enjoyed if they'd tried attacking her and her friends with irksome medical conditions rather than ultraviolet lasers.
She opened her heavy eyelids to discover her alarm clock staring balefully at her, as if daring her to try and grab a quick nap before its relentlessly winding hands reached their apex and filled the Castle of Friendship with its hideous, droning wail. “Go on. You know you want to. You know you want to have a nice drooling-session on your pillow.”
Snuggling deeper into the fluffy covers, inhaling its familiar heady, musky scent, Twilight did her best to ignore the stabbing sensation radiating outward from her flank. The pain had been bothering her for close to a decade now, but there was nothing to be done about it, nor any of the other myriad conditions that came with – ugh – getting older. The standard analgesics and medical cantrips had little effect on alicorn physiology in such an extreme state of flux, so it was just something that she had to grit her teeth and cope with until it finally vanished of its own accord.
Princess Celestia, with charming vagueness, was a mite fuzzy on when that might happen. In fact, her exact words had been, “Just as it was for Luna, Cadance and I, it's something that you have to allow to run its course. No force in Equestria will speed it up nor make its side-effects any more pleasant, unfortunately. Think of it-” she'd smiled that famous enigmatic smile of hers “-as just another test that you have to face.”
With an exaltation of profound exasperation at the thought of having to expose her snug hooves to the wrath of the unforgiving crystal surface below, Twilight was caught – almost literally – between a rock and a hard place: staying in bed meant dealing with unendurable pain, but getting out of it required braving the arctic chill of the castle's floor. “Why isn't there a carpet?” she asked the wall.
Naturally, the wall didn't answer. It knew well enough by now that it was better to stay quiet than to give Twilight Sparkle an answer that she didn't want to hear.
Pausing with the covers sliding halfway down her chest, Twilight was suddenly struck by something. Didn't we have a carpet in here at one point? Or was that back in the old place? What was it now, the Silver Pines Library or something?
As she allowed her body to drop uneasily to the floor, the stray memory clicked back into place. “The Golden Oaks Library! Celestia, how could I have forgotten that?” A wistful sadness thrilled through her as she recalled the many good times that she'd spent there and she sighed softly, but before she could really commit herself to enjoying a little nostalgia-trip Twilight felt a frigid shock eating its way upwards from her hooves. If nothing else, she reflected as she reached out with her telekinetic grasp for a dressing gown perched on a nearby rack, at least the cold is better than coffee for waking me up. She shivered as she wrapped the thick gown around her body, not sure she'd ever felt this frozen … even in the depths of one of Ponyville's notoriously harsh Winter Wrap-Ups.
Stretching, Twilight winced as she felt the knot of tension that had taken root in her lower back and was refusing to loose its death-grip on her; leaning on her forelegs, she pushed against the ground as hard as she could until a hideous pop echoed noisily from the general direction of her spine. Grunting in satisfaction, she repeated the motion with her hindlegs, and she started to feel that much better about the morning. There's nothing quite like having all of your vertebrae in the proper order to make you feel a bit like your old self.
Her relief did not last long, however, as her glistening mulberry eyes alighted upon an empty basket that habitually stood at the foot of her bed. Why she hadn't yet cleared it away Twilight couldn't say. Once upon a time, she and Spike had been as close as siblings, now … he was off somewhere beyond Equestria with Ember, exploring his dragon heritage; she didn't begrudge him wanting to learn more about his past, of course, but she missed him terribly. It didn't help that he'd made the decision to go so soon after Rarity's funeral.
A chill that had nothing to do with how cold the castle was gripped her. For the second time that morning, Twilight felt herself close to tears.
A hollow growl emanating from her stomach that brought her back to the present; even though nopony was around to see – or, indeed, hear – her a blush spread across her cheeks all the same. Some problems might be intractable, but at least this one was easily-remedied: breakfast first, regrets later.
*
The hoofwriting on the note was definitely her own – impossibly neat with only the odd loop here and there to add a bit of zest – but the foul language accusing her of being a lazy slob who couldn't even be bothered going grocery-shopping once in a while belonged to a complete stranger. So it was that Twilight found herself sitting quietly at a small table in her kitchen munching on a piece of stale toast whilst slurping tea from a mug that hadn't been rinsed in a week or more feeling suitably chastised over her inability to keep a clean house. To make matters worse, the tea-bag had certainly been used before.
Probably more than once, actually.
Twilight sighed distastefully around her mug, little bubbles forming on the scummy surface thanks to her forceful breath. With a burst of magic from her horn, she flipped the note over with the intent of writing yet another reminder to herself to get some supplies in. Her muzzle stiffened when she discovered that she'd already done just that.
“I really have to start making notes keeping tabs on all of my notes.” Grimacing, she pinned the note back on the fridge and went back to enjoying her breakfast.
After she'd finished the last mouthful of tough, chewy bread Twilight tried to recall whether or not she had anything planned for the day; tapping the tips of her hooves to her temples, she sifted through her mental agenda whilst saying, “C'mon, think!” over and over again. There was … something, wasn't there? The strain began to show as a bead of sweat broke out on her forehead. It was something about an appointment, wasn't it? At the hospital, maybe? She considered for a moment, tilting her head from side-to-side. Yes, her body wasn't in the best of health, and she had been feeling a mite more scatter-brained than usual, but these were – so Celestia had assured her, anyway – all perfectly normal symptoms for an alicorn in her condition.
That was always assuming, of course, that she hadn't manufactured the conversation with Princess Celestia. She smiled ruefully; ironically, Twilight couldn't remember whether or not she'd ever had problems with her memory failing her before.
She had just entered the bathroom to take a shower when the recollection hit her full force and actually caused her to stagger back a few steps. The appointment wasn't for her, it had been extended to her! There was somepony in the hospital that she was supposed to visit, though – much to her chagrin – she couldn't quite remember off-hoof who it actually was. It was somepony important, that much Twilight did at least know. As frantically as she could, which wasn't very much given her infirmity, she pulled the living area apart until she found the scrap of paper upon which she'd written down the details the day before.
Eventually, Twilight recovered it from underneath a crushed grey/brown sofa that, in a bizarre sartorial touch, had a set of mismatched antlers sprouting from its frame. Something about it bothered her, but she couldn't quite explain what it was. Vaguely, she recalled having arrived home the night before and more or less collapsing on its padded cushions when her back had given out; most likely, the note had slipped out of her hooves when she'd been writhing in pain from the spasms and, when she'd recovered enough to move into the bedroom, she'd simply forgotten to ever retrieve it.
Since most of the rest of the night was a blur of pain interspersed with a few hours of sleeping, that didn't seem at all unreasonable to Twilight; still, she would've felt guilty as Tartarus if she'd missed the appointment over something so stupid.
A quick glance at the clock told her that she was due at Canterlot Hospital in only a couple of hours from now; she knew that she could teleport there, but lately Twilight had gotten the distinct impression that her enhanced alicorn magic was the only thing holding her fragile body together and she didn't want to risk using up so much of it in one go. On the other hoof, she hadn't taken the train in a long time, and it would be nice to feel the wind in her mane once more.
Returning to the bathroom, Twilight caught sight of herself in the mirror for the first time that morning. “Whoa,” she said, peering at the deep wrinkles, sagging bags under the eyes, and unkempt grey mane. “Time's really done a number on you, hasn't it?”
“It has, indeed,” said a familiar mischievous voice.
Twilight wished she could say that her ugly sofa transforming itself into a strange hybrid of dragon and equine features to make fun of her was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her, but it didn't even make the top hundred. “Discord,” she replied, her eyes going wide, muzzle reddening deeply, as the realisation hit her, “you mean to say that I fell asleep on top of you last night?”
The draconequus regarded her with a toothy but affectionate smile. Time and mutual loss had quelled their initial stubborn rivalry into something more like a genuine friendship. “Fluttershy,” he said, just managing to the get the word out without hesitating over it, “insisted that I look after you once she was gone. Besides, at your age I couldn't very well let you hit the floor, could I? Poor Celestia once spent six weeks in traction after she slipped in the throne room during her own elevation.”
Touched as she was by Discord's gesture, Twilight still couldn't help but feel slightly weirded-out that it had been him that she'd been squirming in agony all over the night before. Then again, she realised that it probably hadn't been very comfortable for him either. He was one of a handful of extremely long-lived beings in Equestria, and his company and counsel had been invaluable in keeping her grounded … especially during the more difficult moments. Latterly, she'd even come to tolerate his love of chaos magic. Her heart ached at the thought that it had taken her so long to see past her suspicions and doubts. Fluttershy, you were right about him. “Thank you,” she said, leaning forward to nuzzle against his cheek. “Now,” Twilight said more sternly, “can you give me some privacy?”
“Why?” asked Discord, his face a mask of confusion.
“So I can shower,” replied Twilight, indicating the still-flowing water with a flick of her head.
“Ah, of course, Princess.” With a snap of his fingers, Discord was gone in a blink of bright white light.
As she went about her ablutions, Twilight remembered what it was that Celestia had told her about alicorns: “Alicorn magic is on a scale beyond unicorn magic, and it necessarily requires a much larger body to safely house it. This creates an effect very much like ageing while it re-orders things in its host to its liking. Once this elevation – as our kind call it – is complete, you will have access to a greatly-improved store of magic. You will be capable of feats that you can scarcely even dream of at the moment.”
Though the near-constant aches and pains were sometimes burdensome, while the greying mane, sagging neck flesh and bags under the eyes startled her every single time she happened to catch a glance of her reflection, Twilight found herself grateful for the appearance of ageing. Being able to grow-up and grow old with her friends had been a source of comfort to all of them. They knew in her hearts that she was eternal, but at least she had been there alongside them on their journey – for better and for worse – every step of the way.
Until now when there was just one of them left.
The one who refused to acknowledge when she was beaten.
The one who refused to give up.
*
The train pulled into the station almost ten minutes later than scheduled and the screech of its brakes jolted Twilight out of her unplanned but pleasant nap; a few years ago, this sort of tardiness would've given her a conniption fit, but now she accepted it with a wry grin. If you weren't flying – either under your own power or via balloon – teleporting, or taking a coach, then getting to Canterlot was always going to be a hassle. Seeing the imposing, snow-capped peaks of Mount Cayuse with the majestic gleaming spires of Celestia and Luna's shared castle jutting from it could rob even the most stubborn mule of its bad mood, however.
Twilight fiddled for a moment with the ticket barrier; these were relatively new, now that a favourite game amongst schoolfoals was to try and get on the train without paying the rising fare. Once she was through it, she bolted as fast as her aged legs could carry her in the direction of the hospital, trying not to let herself be distracted by her memories of this place.
Ponyville might've adopted me as a daughter, but a piece of my heart is always going to belong here.
It had changed very little over the years; oh, there were a couple of new buildings here and there, sure, but the sights, sounds and smells were just as familiar to her as they'd been when she was a filly. Impervious as the rock it was set into was the castle, and Twilight idly wondered whether or not Princess Celestia was looking down on her. Shaking her head, she figured that her former mentor probably had better things to be getting on with. Still, it was reassuring to know that – like the mountain, like the town, like the castle – some ponies didn't change either.
No matter how much age, wisdom and magic she gained, Twilight couldn't ever conceive of a time when she wouldn't need Celestia's guidance in her life, even if their partnership was now one of equals, of fellow princesses, rather than student and mentor.
She tried to ignore the fact that, wherever she went, ponies – young and old alike – were staring at her, whispering reverentially to each other about her and her past deeds. Celebrity status meant very little to Twilight, save that she could use her influence for positive effect; the autograph-hunters, the merchandise, the meet-'n'-greets … she could've lived without those, but she did her best to offer everypony a friendly smile and cheery wave even though it was the last thing that she wanted to do right now. After all, what was a small effort for her might have a big impact on the life of another. Such was the hardship that the Princess of Friendship had to endure to maintain Equestria's equanimity.
Fortunately, things had quietened down somewhat by the time that she reached the hospital; no doubt, some hack journalist was already furiously scribbling down a story filled with blatant untruths about why she was here, but Twilight didn't much care what was said about her any more. There was a time, long ago, when every little criticism got to her, when every falsehood ignited her ire, but so much was written about her by so many ponies that it would be a full-time job correcting their every misapprehension. It doesn't matter they think, so long as I know the truth about me.
She took in the lobby of the hospital, the reek of disinfectant and soap filling the air until it tickled her nostrils; Twilight wrinkled her nose at the smell, knowing that she would quickly get used to it. It was a marked contrast to the urban scents of ponies going about their business and greasy food just beyond the glass doors, anyway. Somehow, the soothing green pastel paintwork never had the decorators' intended effect on her of being reassuring. Maybe it was just this specific shade, but it actually made her feel slightly nauseous – almost seasick – if she stared at it for too long.
Refocusing her attention, Twilight padded her way softly to the reception desk where a rather harried young pony sat. He looked slightly in awe at her when he peered over a mound of papers that littered his desk and realised who it was that was approaching him, but he quickly recovered his professional composure. Clearing his throat a little too hard, he asked, “Can I help you Miss, er, Princess Twilight?”
“I'm here to see Rainbow Dash,” Twilight replied.
“One moment.” Quickly scanning his papers, the receptionist found the name. “Ah, here we go. She was moved to ward 3132 a few days ago.” He pointed past her and Twilight followed the tip of his hoof. “If you take a lift to the third floor, then go right, then left, you can't miss it. She's got a room all to herself.”
“Thanks,” said Twilight and she headed in the direction that he'd pointed, her stomach suddenly heaving.
*
Despite her sense of direction almost letting her down at the last minute, she finally made it to the desired ward. Through the glass partition, Twilight watched as an elderly blue pegasus pony with a shock of frizzy grey hair slept fitfully; every now and then, they tossed and turned, their muzzle opening and closing as if uttering words, but Twilight couldn't make out what – if anything – they were actually saying. When they lay prostrate, their chest hardly seemed to be moving at all. She hesitated in the threshold, letting out a soft breath as her forelegs padded disconsolately at the tiled floor. She was loathe to wake them up, even though … even though it might be her last chance to speak to one of her oldest and dearest friends.
Over the years, she'd come to think of them as a link in a chain tying her to Ponyville, and now this last one was about to be broken; after this, what was left for her there?
Well, all the new friends that she'd made over the years and her ongoing mission to spread the magic of friendship throughout Equestria, of course, but if she couldn't be at least a little bit dramatic now when the Tartarus could she be? Rarity would've been so proud of her, though she hadn't quite mastered the summoning of the fainting couch.
Approaching the bed cautiously, Twilight found herself holding her breath for some reason; once she was close enough, she pressed a hoof tenderly to Rainbow Dash's cheek and said in a quiet voice, “Hey, are you awake?”
“I don't want to go to Flight School today,” Rainbow Dash replied in a huffy tone of voice, huddling deeper into the covers and turning away from Twilight's inquisitive gaze. A moment passed; rolling her head to the side, she opened one eyelid and a cerise eye scrutinised her old friend. “Twilight, hi,” she said in a raspy whisper that overwhelmed the cracks normally lacing her voice. A coughing fit overtook her and she lost her grip on the covers.
Twilight only had a moment to be startled by just how thin Rainbow Dash had become; she'd always been skinny, but in a lithe, athletic sort of way. Now she was nothing more than a sack of barely-held together bones in a parchment-thin sack of skin. Levitating a glass of water to her lips with her magic, Rainbow Dash drank greedily from it. “Better?” asked Twilight when she placed the now-empty container back on the shelf next to the bed.
“Much, thanks,” replied Rainbow Dash.
Now that she had a chance to take it in, Twilight saw that the ward had been decorated to look like Rainbow Dash's old room back at her family's home in Cloudsdale; it was festooned with photographs and newspaper clippings of her various competitive triumphs over the years, as well as pictures of more personal moments with her family and friends. Almost an entire wall had been dedicated to a certain orange filly.
Noticing Twilight's interest, Rainbow Dash said with a touch of pride in her voice, “Little runt was the only one to ever break my academy record.”
“She had a good teacher,” Twilight replied approvingly. Some had thought of Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo as unlikely friends, as teacher and student, as sisters, as mother and daughter, but the truth is it was one of those relationships that defied easy classification. They were everything that the other had needed to complete themselves. “It's good to see you again, Rainbow Dash.” Twilight sank her weary haunches gratefully into a chair next to the bed and scooted in a bit closer. She noted that there were several magazines dotted around, primarily concerning the latest group of Wonderbolts and their exploits. “Still keeping up with current events?” she asked her old friend in a gently mocking tone.
“Gotta do something to keep the mind active,” replied Rainbow Dash, a familiar grin lighting up her muzzle and making her look much as she did in her younger years. She sat up as best she could – Twilight fluffing up her pillow in the process – but there was still a noticeable slump in her withers. “I thought that you'd approve.”
“I do,” Twilight said with a vigorous nod of her head.
“How have you been keeping?”
“Not very well, to be honest,” Twilight said, feeling slightly abashed at how quickly they were making the conversation about her. “I'll be glad when all this-” she gestured at herself with a hoof “-is over.”
Rainbow Dash shot her a sympathetic look. “Me, too.”
Twilight opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. “How have you been?”
“Eh, they treat me like royalty, which is faintly embarrassing.” She smirked, her radiant eyes as bright as they'd ever been. In that moment, she was that same old mischievous mare who'd at once delighted and infuriated her friends with her antics. “Not that you'd know anything about that, of course.”
“It was the same with the others, too,” Twilight said dryly.
“Rarity loved the attention. Fluttershy hated it.” A wistful look etched itself on to Rainbow Dash's muzzle. “Pinkie Pie insisted on cheering up the rest of the patients until she was too weak to get out of bed, and Applejack was her usual surly self.”
“What was it she said, Stop wastin' time and resources on a pony who ain't gonna get better and focus on the ones who will?” Twilight asked in an unconscious imitation of Applejack's famous Ozark drawl.
Rainbow Dash laughed until she started coughing again. Another glass of water quickly put that to rights. “Celestia, for a minute I thought that AJ was in the room with us,” she said just as soon as she was able to speak again. A moment of silence passed before she asked the big question, “How are you coping? Really, I mean?”
“Honestly?” Twilight leaned backed in her seat and considered for a moment. Watching her dearest friends, her family, growing old and eventually dying had been a pain beyond compare, but she'd known what the consequences would be for going down this road, and Celestia, Luna, Cadance, Flurry Heart, even Discord, had all been there to console her in their own ways. And they always would be there which was an enormous comfort to her. “It hurts, but I can endure it because I will carry your spirits inside of me forever. I will remember each and every one of you until the end. Whenever that is.”
“What's gonna happen to me?” asked Rainbow Dash haltingly, something like fear in her voice. “After, y'know, I die?”
Twilight sucked on her bottom lip thoughtfully, wishing that she had a good answer, or even something vaguely reassuring to offer. “Nopony really knows. But there are theories. Princess Celestia believes that a pony's residual magic is released from their body at the point of death and it returns to the Well from which all Equestrian magic springs forth. So the next generation is born with the essence of the previous.”
“A kind of immortality?” said Rainbow Dash with a raised eyebrow.
“I suppose you can look at it that way,” replied Twilight with a reassuring smile. “It's a nice thought, our descendants inheriting a little of us to guide them on their way.”
“Our descendants?”
“I meant in a general sort of way.”
“I know that.” She closed her eyes. She didn't really regret not having children of her own. Scootaloo had been enough. “There's still time for you, though, you know? There's still time for you to do so much,” Rainbow Dash said pointedly. Another brief pause. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For … everything. For looking out for us, for teaching us, for being our friend most of all,” replied Rainbow Dash with a crooked smile. “For all the adventures that we got to share by your side, and for all those silly slumber parties that we had to endure once we were back home.”
“My slumber parties were not silly,” Twilight said, on the verge of tears, “it was just that you guys would never follow the rules.”
A gust of wind blew in from the open window.
“Speaking of not following the rules ...”
Twilight, halfway out of her seat to close the window, suddenly stopped; when she looked at Rainbow Dash, she saw a very, very familiar expression on her face and a dazzling gleam in her eyes. “What?” she asked, fearing that she didn't want to know the answer.
Rainbow Dash's eyes flitted in the direction of the window. “Bust me out of here.”
“I'm sorry, my hearing is going. Can you repeat that?”
“C'mon!” said Rainbow Dash insistently, pushing the covers aside and crawling gamely out of the bed. “I don't wanna die in here. I wanna die like the pegasi of old: in the sky.”
Despite the tears forming in her eyes, Twilight also found herself smiling. It was just so typical of Rainbow Dash to want, to need, a spectacular death to cap her spectacular life, wasn't it? Always the showboat. She reached out to take her friend's blue hoof in her own purple one. “Ready?”
Rainbow Dash nodded, her expression as focused as it had been when she'd been ready to perform for the Wonderbolts that first time so many years ago.
An effulgent mulberry-coloured light enveloped the room; less than a split-second later, it was gone, and so were the two ponies.
*
It's lucky that Starlight Glimmer taught me that spell to alter the gravitational constant in a localised area, otherwise this would never have worked. Twilight surveyed their surroundings with a satisfied smile; the height of summer required no rain, and what few clouds hung in the azure expanse of sky they wafted through were distant and wispy. A mere aesthetic flourish – as Rarity would likely have termed it – to keep the horizon from looking stale and boring.
Balancing the twin demands of keeping Rainbow Dash safely inside her sphere of influence without invading her personal space – without shattering the beautiful illusion that she was, indeed, flying under her own power – was a delicate act, but the blissful look on her friend's face as the wind whipped and caressed at her mane told Twilight that she was succeeding at both tasks. Without her alicorn-enhanced power, she doubted that she would've been able to pull off such a feat.
Twilight looked over to her friend again; tears streamed for her eyes, but it might just have been a side-effect of the air currents washing over them. Should've brought goggles. Rainbow Dash must've known, or at least had an idea, that she was being propelled along in Twilight's magical wake, but she allowed herself to believe the lie.
Age had caused her once-majestic wings to deteriorate; they were scrawny and underdeveloped, almost skeletal, and there were numerous patchy spots where bright, bold feathers had once proudly stood. Still, gaunt though they were, they managed to look uncannily graceful as she arced softly into the afternoon sunlight. Waves of orange-red light played over her muted blue coat, bathing her in an amber glow. Rainbow Dash laughed giddily, experiencing the joy of flight for the first time in years. Who cared whether it was aided or not? It was still the ultimate freedom to be able to traverse the heavens like this!
“Are you sure about this?” asked Twilight. Below them, Equestria stretched away to the horizon; Ponyville, Canterlot, all those other towns that they'd helped in some way or another over the years, were distant specks.
Rainbow Dash looked over to her. “I am not gonna die in that bed, Twilight,” she replied, having to shout over the sound of rushing air. “Our friends, they all got to die in their homes surrounded by the ponies that loved them the most. Well, this is my home and you are the last pony alive that cares about me, so ...”
“I just wanted to be sure,” said Twilight with mild reproof, “that you were thinking clearly.”
“Hey, Twilight?” Rainbow Dash's voice sounded uncertain.
“Huh?”
“This might be the last chance that I'll have to say what I should've said to you a hundred times before, so uh, I'm just gonna come out and say it, all right?”
“What-?”
“I love you.”
“Okay,” said Twilight deadpan, “now I know that your mental state is compromised.”
“Twilight-”
“-I love you, too, Rainbow Dash.”
“Thank you.” The pegasus refocused her attention on the skies ahead.
Another week or two, maybe a month at best, was what Rainbow Dash had to look forward to if I did drag her back to the hospital. And she'd resent every minute of it, of course, connected to machine after machine defiantly forcing life back into her unwilling body. Some ponies will want to eke out every last minute that they can, so afraid are they of that interminable void between this plane and the next, but some ponies want to die doing what they love. She has a right to this.
When the end had finally come for the others, none of them had tried to dodge it, none of them had begged or pleaded for one more miserable day; they had accepted their fates stoically, bravely. In death, their examples shone as brightly as they had done in life. As the Princess of Friendship, it was her duty to pass on their teachings – both the good and the bad – as part of a rich tapestry that had begun with an unwilling unicorn filly being shunted out of her comfort zone.
Returning her mind to her companion, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek, Twilight said, “D'you have a direction in mind or are we just gonna wing it?”
Smiling to herself, Rainbow Dash replied, “Let's just keep going until we … until we reach our destination, yeah?”
“You're the boss.”
