That had sealed the deal.

She was planning to do it anyway; her trip to see Rainbow Dash was her one gift to herself to see that maybe life was worth living. She was certainly shown otherwise. All her life had been droll expanses of mediocrity punctuated by periods of torment with the occasional fleeting moment of Dash making her feel like she was somebird.

Gilda flapped higher and higher, above the clouds. HIgher and higher, until her wings ached. Until her lungs gasped for thin air against her will. Ice crystals began to form on her wings and body. She kept flying against the pain; none of it wouldn't matter in a few minutes, anyway.

She looked down towards Ponyville, her mind heavy with all the emotion the town held for her. She began to black out from oxygen deprivation.

She came to somewhere around the upper layer of nimbus clouds, keeping her wings tight in to her body. Her eyes streamed tears, and she cried without shame. None of it would matter in a minute, anyway.

Downward she tumbled, buffetted by cold northern winds. After a few moments, her feathers and fur were warmed by thermal updrafts, melting the ice. Her whole body was wet from melted ice. She didn't care; none of it would matter in a few seconds, anyway.

Something happened, though, that she did not intend. She heard screams.

At first she thought she was screaming involuntarily, but... It wasn't her. She opened her eyes to look for the source, and saw three fillies not far from her plummeting towards the earth. How they'd gotten there, she didn't know. She briefly entertained the idea of letting them die, too, accompanying them to the grave. Something deep inside of her, though, roared at her to save them. Save them. SAVE THEM.

She spread her wings and tried to slow down. No joy. There was no stopping at an altitude this low. Not at this speed.

She maneuvered herself over towards them, and scooping them up in her talons, positioned them on her stomach. She flared her wings out even farther to slightly alter their angle of attack, hoping that maybe blunt impact could be avoided. She got them to a steep glide, but there was no way to avoid a crash. Gilda desperately searched around for a lake or pond to splash down in, but there was nothing but forest for miles outside the town.

The three fillies, one creamy yellow, one white, and one orange, kept screaming, but held onto her tightly. She wrapped her arms around them, hoping that maybe she could cushion their impact with the ground. A quick glance at the horizon told her that she had only a few seconds before impact.

She put her head up to shield the three from anything they might hit upon impact, and pulled her legs up to curl around them. Then it happened.

She felt a blunt impact on her back, and a brief moment of shock and nonfeeling. Then she felt the fur and skin on her back begin to tear off from skidding along the ground. The fillies screamed louder as she squeezed them. The pain was excruciating; as rocks and friction ground her spine down, her nerves became exposed. A large craggy rock severed her spine completely. She could feel that only the hide on her stomach and sides was holding her two halves together.

The last thing she felt was her abdominal cavity filling up with earth. As things went went white, she had a final realization. Her death was the best gift she had ever given the world, and herself.