Make myself a winner

Her mouth was gritty, and no matter how much she spat, it never tasted clean.

Houses passed her by: red, green, and brown.

They were coming out of their houses to watch her march, wearing their fine, fine hats.

Everycreature worth a damn wore a hat in Appleloosa. Even the young fillies and colts dashing around wore hats.

She was the only one who wasn't.

"Keep walking," said the pony sheriff, tugging on her rope.

The noose was tight around Misty's neck. Her wings were bound with wire, so tight it was cutting off blood flow.

No matter how much Misty complained, nopony dared loosen them.

Misty forced herself to walk, blinking in the haze. Her mouth was desert dry, but no water would quench her thirst or the hunger.

She hadn't eaten a soul in forever. The last time she was so close to losing herself, to losing who she was, she had almost eaten Savarin's soul.

Where was Savarin?

She searched the faces as she walked, but none of the slowly shaking heads were Savarin.

They walked, and as they walked, more and more ponies fell in step behind her.

The red clock tower was the last building in Appleloosa, before the craggy rocks and the expansive desert.

Out in the desert, something blocked out the light.

It was the gallows. It was a poorly built structure, nails sticking out this way and that.

"It looks rather unstable," Misty said.

"Shut up." The Sherriff got onto the gallows and dragged her up. He slung her rope over the crossbeam and tied it quickly.

Misty scrambled on her hooves, trying to reach out and grab him, but he walked down the steps just out of reach.

Only a whisper of soul would be enough for her to free her wings and fly.

His hooves were trembling when he picked up a heavy school bell off the ground. It was to the side of the gallows, and he rang it furiously.

"Hear ye, hear ye," he said as it rang.

Ponies wandered toward the gallows, organizing themselves in rows.

Still, more creatures were streaming out of the houses, peeking out their heads to see the sight.

Others were still hidden in their houses, hating the violence of it all.

Nocreature had been hanged in thousands of years, so this was a momentous occasion.

"Does Princess Twilight approve of a public hanging?" Misty asked. "I have rights."

The sheriff walked up the side of the stairs, holding up his hoof as if to slap her. He stopped, lowering it, as he remembered.

Never touch the goddess.

"Does anypony want to call up the princess?" asked the sheriff with a sneer.

Ponies laughed and thumped their hooves on the ground.

Misty's throat was thick with sand, bleary eyes searching the crowds.

Somecreature was pushing their way through the crowd to the front row, despite ponies exclaiming and complaining.

It was Dad, with a brown hat on his head, as was the tradition. It canted off to the side because of his horn. His bowtie was black this time and dusty with grit.

He sat in the front row, shaking hooves picking up his pipe. He lit it with the tip of his hoof, blowing smoke rings into the air.

Misty had never seen him smoke before.

"Are you hanging me or not, sheriff?" asked Misty.

The sheriff stopped sneering. "Somecreature came to hang you personally. He insisted. Of course, he's late."

Misty shook her head.

Everything wasn't right. It was the strongest sense of deja vu, except not quite that. It was like a snaggle tooth that she worried around in her mouth, but she still couldn't place it.

Mutters went through the crowd, somepony's starting to surge forward as if they wanted to hang her themselves. But, fortunately for her, the ponies in front stopped them short.

Misty ignored them because there was something near the red clock tower.

It was long and thin like a match, head burning bright as the sun.

She couldn't quite see it clearly...

She both knew and didn't know it, as if she were two kirins, both past and future.

Heavy footsteps took her out of her staring and brought her back to the gallows.

The crowd fell silent.

A dragon with a black robe on walked toward the gallows. The mask did nothing to hide his identity: it was Gurgle, the dragon.

He had a scroll in one of his paws, and he walked onto the gallows, unscrolling it. It uncoiled, jumping down to the ground and stopped near her Dad's hooves.

"The list of your crimes is long," Gurgle said.

The crowd booed and thumped their hooves.

Misty swallowed. "Fine, before you start, could you tighten my noose?"

"I can't do that," Gurgle said. "I didn't expect it to happen this way, Misty Flare."

"The future is unpredictable." Savarin had told her that. "Give the creatures what they want. Read out my crimes, and hang me."

Gurgle coughed and started to read down the list of her crimes. "For the genocide of the diamond dog people, killing different species in your so-called Utopia, and for killing former princesses Luna and Celestia, you are sentenced to hang from the noose until you're dead."

"There's something wrong," she said. The snaggletooth feeling wasn't going away.

Gurgle's voice trembled. "There's nothing wrong."

"I was... in a cave."

"You're not supposed to say that."

"What am I supposed to say?"

The something near the red clock tower grinned. Its teeth were white against its fire head.

She struggled against the rope.

It didn't belong here, and she didn't either.