She hiccuped.

She flew.

She drifted.

Limp wings flapped over even number limbs.

The mare veered left and right, eyes rolling back, blind to starlight.

She murmured into the crisp, mountain air. Six words... delicate... mewling...

Lurching between a giggle and a sob, she drunkenly dipped low over the Canterlot sculpture garden...

...and her body collided with a tall, triumphant statue.

It teetered over...

... and ...

SMASH!