Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

I woke up in my bed, frantic for the sweetness of oxygen. Now that I had lungs and mouth again, would I know how to use them? I had spent subjective hours as a creature possessed of neither. I tightened my diaphragm muscles and felt air enter my lungs. So far so good. I released the muscle tension to exhale, but nothing happened. Panic returned until I realized my mouth had closed. Mouth open, I expelled the breath and panted hungrily. With my hands on my chest I could feel the rise, and fall, as I inhaled and exhaled. Everything was working.

Gradually my respiration reached rest speed.

I lay there until I had counted a hundred breaths, savoring each one.

Twilight had given me a gift to treasure.

Never would I take the faculty of breath for granted.

Never could I forget how precious a single breath is.