She tasted blood.

As she lay on the ground, huddled in a ball, she saw a dozen pair of hooves move past without a sound. Without caring. Let them.

She didn’t need them. She didn’t need anypony.

Dimly, she was aware that she was going to die. It seemed like that should make her mad. Like she should want to hurt something. But she was just too tired. All she did was fight and struggle and fall.

She just wanted to rest.

Somewhere, far away, a voice.

“Oh dear. Oh…oh dear. Come on, up you get. I can help.”

Hope.