Lofty doesn’t reply to that. The sky flashes white and a roar of thunder sweeps them up. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Yes!” Her voice cracks.

“Holly. I don’t think you do.”

“I do.” It comes far weaker this time. Her grip on the wheel falters.

Lofty sighs. She puts a hoof on Holiday’s shoulder. “It’s not too late to turn around,” she whispers.

Entry for the Lofty Holiday contest.