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The filly opened her eyes. Before her stands three monuments.

The 1st, a monument to her fear -- fresh vomit.

The 2nd, a monument of her goal. A mare, forged by Odin's hand.

The 3rd, a trial. A gap so wide, it can’t be jumped.

The filly refuses to look at the mare for mercy. Lose rocks fall as she approaches the cliff. Only rocks and dirt to cushion her fall.

'Last time, there was water,' she thinks, almost taking a step back. 'Where did the river go?'

‘Last time.’ She lets go of a forgoing breath. ‘This is the last time.’ Her body relaxes.

The filly waits -- with wings free -- for an act of kindness. Pain arrives; freeing her from the ground, but not up. Her eyes open, fear returns.

The wings that should be raising her, only quickening her fall. Her eyes look to the cliff, looking for the mercy she had forbid herself. No flash of a rainbow. This was the last time.

She loses it. Her wings flap like the lags of a drowning filly. Fear turns to madness. Madness readying her to kiss the ground.

Two hoofs push on her chest. Her eyes turn to a rainbow beside her. In Rainbow’s eyes, the filly found peace. Fear past away; the madness stayed. Both Scootaloo and Rainbow made the ground their target. Neater trying to slow down, or change course. Tears flow up, as she leans into Rainbow Dash.

Like a rock into the lake; the ground gave way for the pegasi.

“Scootaloo,” said Rainbow. “You said you don’t like mushy stuff: you liar.”

________________________________________

Scootaloo opens her eyes; finding not blue, but yellow. She is back in the clubhouse. Applebloom standing on her chest. Her own head nuzzled into Applebloom’s neck.

“Get off!” Scootaloo yells, with a light blush.

“About time you woke up,” said Applebloom. “You been rolling around on the floor for a good few minutes. I had to hold you down to keep you still. There was no way I could a word in, with all your screaming.”

“I was not screaming! --” Scootaloo posed for a moment,“-- It was a war cry.” “I was fighting off 20 Dragons!”

“What’s that coming out of your eyes?”, Applebloom said with a smirk. “Tears of joy?”

“No!” Scootaloo replied. “I was dreaming I got dragon blood in my eyes.”

Applebloom smiled, but refrained from tarnishing Scootaloo’s pride. “If we don’t move our plots, we will be late to Sweetie’s.”

Scootaloo’s eyes met Applebloom. In them Applebloom could see a honesty she never before seen outside of her sister. Her smile faded. She readied herself for what was coming.

“Applebloom?” Scootaloo asked.

“Yes?”

“You are still standing on my chest.”