I woke up to the sound of propeller blades.

Or at least, I thought it was at first. Everything was hazy and unfocused. I tried to open my eyes, but the light was blinding. The world slowly shifts into view, and I see the spinning fan hooked to the ceiling above me. I was on my back, lying on something scratchy and uncomfortable.

I try to crane my neck to the side, but the world keeps spinning. Everything in view tilts at an angle and rolls endlessly, twisting knots into my stomach. A window shines the morning sun inside, dimly revealing the interior.

I see an old Stallion sitting atop a chair, glaring at me with tired, jaded eyes of hazel.

“You’re awake,” he speaks flatly. I remember hearing a name before blacking out. Bleeding Heart, was it? I opened my mouth to talk, but a twist in my belly wrangled the words dead in my throat. I coughed as I resisted the urge to vomit, with a hoof pressing me down into the cot.

“Easy now. You’re still hooked on Plasma and are barely holding on. Just relax.”

I look up to see IV bags suspended overhead, dripping their yellowish liquid into my system with painful pricks all over my appendages—multiple bags. The realization sets in. I lost way, way too much blood. I tried to power through the fog, remembering bits and pieces from last night.

… At least, I think it was last night. I had no idea how long I was out. I opened my mouth again to try and communicate.

“Aie-dough,” was all I managed to croak out of my throat as I lay my head back down. Why was this so hard? “I… Don’t...”

“Okay,” the stallion scoots closer with a concerned frown. “Nod if you can understand me.”

I bobbed my chin up and down.“Good. Can you remember your name?”

I nod again.

“What is your name?”

“Suh… Sunshine…” I speak between breaths, trying to quell the nausea. “Sunshine… Tempest.” A wave of relief washes over me at my breakthrough.

“Sunshine Tempest?” he asks for confirmation. I nodded. “Okay, good. Can you feel your limbs?”

I tilted my head, inspecting my barrel, as I gingerly lifted a hind leg in the air, the only limb not wrapped in bandages. The once dry cloth now clung to my coat in a clammy mess, caked in sticky crimson. I nodded again.

“Good.” He seemed relieved, too. “I took the liberty of stitching up some of your wounds while you were out, so don't move too much.”

Finally, clarity began to clear out channels through the grime surrounding my brain. Memories of being carried here, this stallion—Bleeding Heart—saving me. Memories of me being diagnosed and treated by several ponies in bed before-

A familiar chill travels up my spine as realization takes hold. “Did… did I-”

“Die?” Bleeding Heart finished my sentence atonally, shaking his head. “You almost did, but your heart wouldn’t quit.”

I sighed in relief. After hearing those words, I felt a strange mix of pride and guilt. My stomach growled as an acute awareness finally settled in. I had no energy, barely enough to lift my head to see the old stallion waiting for me to speak.

My mind was foggy, and my body felt groggy. I had questions—lots of them. But one question preceded all the others.

“Where’s Night Light?” I asked with a frown.

His eyes were confused for a moment before he blinked in acknowledgment. “The pegasus?” I nodded. “She’s to your right.”

I noticed soft, rhythmic breathing below me at those words. Tilting my head down, I could see a heap of midnight-hued limbs and hair sleeping below me, with bandages wrapped around her legs (though nowhere near as many as I had.) Night Light slept soundly on the floor, undisturbed by the conversation above her.

“She refused to leave your side,” Bleeding Heart spoke as I stared at her sleeping form. I could see how her chest slowly rose and fell with each soft breath, how she nestled her head between her limbs.

Something inside me clicked upon seeing that.

You do not deserve her.

“You are one lucky mare, do you know that?” Bleeding Heart asked behind me. I gazed upon Night Light’s sleeping form as I sighed.

“I don’t feel lucky.”

“But you wouldn’t be here right now if it weren't for her.”

“I know,” I mumbled. I mentally cursed at the IV bags suspended overhead that wouldn’t let me move my limbs to touch her. I turned my head back to Bleeding Heart, a frown still prefixed on my brow. “How long was I out?”

“One day and two nights,” he spoke methodically, “It’s been a little over 36 hours.”

“And her?”

“She was very stubborn about staying. She said she would sleep here if she had to.” Another sigh drew from his lips. “She’s a lot like Quinna.”

“Who?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow at that but otherwise shrugged it off. “Doesn’t matter.” He nods to Night Light sleeping beside me. “She was a universal donor. She knew her blood type was safe for you and volunteered to help you. Which,” he scratches the back of his neck with a look of worry, “I told her that was not good enough, and she insisted anyway… But that might be why you are alive now, so I should thank her."

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘not good enough?’”

“You lost over four liters of blood, Sunshine, and had many deep wounds that were still gushing when Berry brought you in,” he spoke with an urgency as if I was still in danger. “Healing magic alone wasn’t going to help you. And I told her that, too.” He nods to Night Light. “I told her that even if she transfused all the blood needed to save you, it would not guarantee your survival. And she would be at a tremendous risk herself. But she did it anyway.”

Wait, then, “How are we both alive right now?”

Bleeding Heart leans back into his chair, looking out the window against the morning sun with squinted eyes.

“I was gonna tell her that you were dead.”

There was a pregnant pause after that. My heart sinks just a little upon hearing those words.

“But she didn’t even let me speak. She just barged through the door and cried at the sight of you. She begged and pleaded for me to save you however I could.”

His frown darkened to a look of pity. “I couldn’t say no. Telling her what would happen would have broken her. So I tried to save you. And as I said, her blood alone wasn’t good enough.” He gave a long sigh.

“But it wasn’t just her blood that was donated. Quinna volunteered, too.”

A spark of remembrance at that same name. “You mean the Thestral?”

“Not just her, but practically everyone across the village—the ones that knew their blood type, anyway—they all volunteered to help you. I didn’t know if it would work. Heck, no doctor knew if this would work. Thestrals don’t exactly give away blood for free to their pony brethren. At least, not without animosity…” He trails off.

“You say this like it should not be possible,” I ascertained, “and yet here I am.”

“... And yet here you are,” he repeated, “because I thought thestral blood would be incompatible with an equine body.” Bleeding Heart lowered his gaze to the floor. “Because I thought it impossible to save you. Whereas everyone else dared to try anyway.”

He was ashamed.

I could see it in his body language, choice of words, and tone of voice. In his mind, I was already dead. And he was quick to condemn me as such.

“I almost died,” I spoke aloud. The words came out, sounding a little hoarse across my parched throat. It felt just as unbelievable as it sounded.

Some memories are coming back, but it is hard to make sense of them.

It felt like I had emerged from a long coma, dreaming all the while (which I had been), but I couldn’t remember much of the dream. I remember talking, but to whom and about what, I cannot say.

It felt important, though. Whatever it was.

What I do remember is that S.M.I.L.E. would be after me soon. And I had a head start, but it wouldn’t last if I were stuck here toiling away in bandages.

Speaking of here, “Where are we?”

“Hmh, we’re in Hollowbark,” Bleeding Heart hums, “just on the northern periphery of the Everfree, beneath Canterlot. It is a quaint little town, and barely a thousand of us are here.”

“That’s… small. Given today’s standards.”

“It’s a town only for thestrals, one given to them by the crown about a decade back. But few thestrals were willing to live this far up north after the war, so many went south to find better homes.”

“... And you?”

He shrugs. “They needed a village doctor. I traveled in the area a few months ago, and now here I am.”

“Are you the only pony in town?” I asked bluntly.

“That I am.”

“What is that like?”

His brows furrowed ever so slightly. “At first? It's a little hard, given how ponies treated them in their past. I knew their history. I knew why they had suspicions, but, well, you know. The way they would give you an odd look, talking about you behind your back, how you are the topic of every conversation except the ones they have with you, and how foals start to fear you; It starts to irk you.” He slowly shakes his head.

“It wasn’t until I helped deliver the foal of the village elder that they began to trust me. At first, they would ask for advice on how to treat themselves. Eventually, one by one, they would come seeking my help. Infections, disease, cuts, and scrapes, you know. That sort of thing. Nowadays, they know I am here to help them. And that is good enough for them to let me live here and good enough for me to stay here. You were the first real patient I had to treat since I arrived here, one that had a real threat of death looming over them. And if it weren’t for her,” he nods to Night Light, “then Hollowbark wouldn’t have tried helping me. You wouldn’t have made it without her.”

I look down at Night Light, undisturbed from our conversation, as she sleeps soundly beneath us.

“Thank you,” I whispered, “I haven’t said it yet, but thank you.”

“Er… Are you talking to me or her?”

I chuckled. A tendril of pain jolts up my ribcage. It hurts to laugh.

“Both,” I answered as I laid back down with a grimace.

“You’re quite welcome.”

“Do I have to… pay you?” I was almost too afraid to ask, as I had nothing to give him.

He shook his head. “Berry is paying for it all, and I gave him a discount, seeing as the whole town came together to save you. Speaking of which,” he stood up and stretched his limbs, “Some of them will be happy to know you’re still kicking. I’ll check on you after telling them the good news.”

I watched him walk limp to the door. His right hind leg was slightly elevated above the floor as if he were avoiding pressure. I wanted to ask, but he was already out the door before the words left my mouth.

That left me alone with my thoughts and Night Light’s quiet, rhythmic breathing.

You do not deserve her.

I lay my head back down, my mind running a million miles per minute. Distant yet familiar memories graze the surface of my mental landscape, but it is not enough to form a coherent thought. It’s like having words die in your throat before you forget what you will say. There is only one word that continues to form in my head.

Manehattan.

But why? Was the bomb there? Or was this me remembering a dream? Was it nothing at all? The murky quagmire in my head bogs down my thoughts. It is like someone is violently churning butter in my skull.

A nail of pain pierced through the mental exhaustion as I was starting to develop a headache. Taking several deep breaths, I try to sit up a little further upward. The catheters from the IV stand pulled tighter as I slowly ascended with my elbows. More fiery tendrils lick my ribs from the stitches as I grit my teeth through the pain.

I could only sit up at an odd angle before the tubes and needles were taut. Nowhere near comfortable enough for me to move. And I wasn’t going to unplug them anytime soon, so for the moment, I was stuck.

Slumping back down in defeat, I assessed my situation. I am not dead, which is good. I also haven’t been found out by anyone chasing us yet. But judging by how I am hooked and bandaged up like a mummy, I feel as if I will be stuck here for a while, which is bad.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nostrils. Feeling my chest inflate sends jolts of pain through the stitched wounds. My breath turns into a wince as I suppress a groan. Right then, take slow and steady breaths. Don’t breathe deeper than necessary.

I hear mumbling and feathers stirring on the floor below me. Night Light awakes with a groan. I turn my head to see her rubbing her eyelids just beneath my cot. After hearing what she had been through, my heart swelled at the sight of her awake and well.

You do not deserve her.

“Sleep well?” I asked innocuously, dispelling all of my thoughts.

There was a gasp, barely audible if it weren’t for the comatose ambiance surrounding us. She turns her head level with mine, eyes locking mine.

“You’re awake?” she asks with disbelief.

“Barely.” I simply answered.

Night Light slowly began to stand up, the floorboards creaking beneath her weight like frogs. Her eyes drift down my neck to my abdomen and appendages, seeing them caked with relatively fresh blood through the stitching.

“How do you feel?” She asks with caution.

“Tired. Groggy. Hurt all over.”

There was something of a chortle at those words, yet it sounded more like a forced breath. “I bet. I can’t believe you are awake.”

“You and me both.”

“Wait, where’s…” Night Light trails off as she looks around for Bleeding Heart.

“He left. To… I don’t know, somewhere.” I felt foggy in my head, trying to recall recent memories. Even rudimentary thoughts had trouble forming. It felt like I was drowning in my head. All that’s forming at the moment are questions.

I started with the simplest one I could think of. “What happened? I only remember bits and pieces.”

Night Light frowned, staring hard at my bandages as if they had wronged her. Part of me thinks it is my fault.

What am I saying? It is my fault we are here. I couldn’t just leave her behind, couldn’t I? Couldn’t leave well enough alone when I was beaten. I just had to go and be the hero, didn’t I?

You just had to go and kill them, didn’t you?

“They fixed you. That’s what happened.” Night Light’s curt response interrupts my self-loathing.

“... That’s it?” I asked incredulously. “Nobody came looking for us?”

“No. That’s it.”

Her eyes drift to mine. And-

... You know, in all the time that I had known Night Light, she always had these pretty green eyes you could look into all day. The sky could be raining fire, and yet just one look into her jade irises would make all of the troubles in the world feel trivial for a time.

In all the time that I had known Night Light, I have never seen her look at me the way she does now.

Angry.

Confused.

Hurt.

“... Night Light?” I asked, suddenly very afraid.

Her eyes were unflinching in their resolve as if she were burrowing into my soul to find any wrongdoings and sins I had committed.

“What now?” She asks, drilling holes in my skull with that stern look.

I blinked first. “... I beg your pardon?”

“What now?” She repeats tersely, unblinking.

Confusion wracked my brain. “What do you mean ‘what now?’ What does that mean?”

“I mean, what happens now, Sunshine? What do we do now? Do you even know?”

“I…” I wanted to answer, but what answer was there to give? Only vague assumptions remained. “I don’t know,” I relented, averting her disappointing gaze as I stared at the floor, “I’m still kinda slow in the head right now.”

Slowly sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to purge the tainted air out of my lungs, I looked up at Night Light’s eyes to see her standing in place stoically.

Her eyes frowned upon making contact with mine. “That’s it? That’s it?! ‘You’re slow in the head,’ that’s all you have to say? Sunshine, do you have the slightest idea what you have done?” Night Light asks with sudden ire.

My brow furrows as painful memories of sterile halls tinted crimson plague my mind’s eye—the feeling of blood pooling beneath my fetlocks, the taste of copper staining my tongue, the friction of flesh tearing away from my teeth.

You do not deserve her.

My body begins to shake as I slump back down on the cot on my back, wings folded beneath the caked dressings surrounding my barrel. The quakes send jolts of pain up the stitches.

“Where are we supposed to go now, Sunshine? What are we supposed to do?” Night Light’s tone grew in volume. “Do you even know why you did this? Do you know how we can move on from this? Do you know where to go next? Do you know how to fix this?”

There was no answer. I shut my eyes to prevent tears from welling up and suppress the urge to tremble across my body.

“So now we’re supposed to just… live like this? Because you tried to rescue me? Because you think that this was the best idea?!”

You do not deserve her.

“I-I just—I don’t even…” She stammers, trying to formulate the right words. “I thought you died, Sunshine!”

You do not deserve her.

“I saw you on the table, bleeding out and not moving, after everything we had done. And I… I THOUGHT YOU DIED!” she screams.

I dared not to open my eyes, but I could hear in the scratchy tone in her voice that she was holding back tears. The trembles worsen.

“I thought I lost you! I thought you died trying to rescue me from Canterlot! Do you know how much that hurts?!”

You do not deserve her.

Night Light shudders between her breaths. My heart tightens like a vice clamping down on it as I hear her trying to quell the wrath in her voice with choking gasps. She fails to suppress her tears.

I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I felt my eyelids and cheeks growing wetter by the second. I turned away my runny, snotty face from hers. I didn’t want her to see me like this.

“I can’t keep doing this anymore, Sunshine.”

It feels like a dagger skewers me at those words. They left her throat effortlessly, with more gravity than the planet itself. Like a paradox, hearing those words sounded right and yet very wrong. The tirade of questions ceased with that one simple sentence.

My cheeks are now damp.

You do not deserve her.

“... I do not deserve you.”

My tongue finds the will to utter this sentence, translating my inner thoughts aloud.

There was nothing else to say, though, and it felt like there was no point in talking further. A mute acknowledgment of my failures settled between us.

A quiet assertion that I was beyond redemption or forgiveness.

“... I’m going to stay with you until your wounds get better.” Night Light suddenly speaks with as much atonal energy as she could muster. The dagger twists and debrides me inside out. “But after that…? I don’t know.”

I didn’t dare face her. What was I to say in this position? That I was sorry for ruining her life? For wanting her to be with me? How immensely selfish was I, doing her more harm than good for my sake alone? For the sake of saving what little relationship we had?

“I’m…” She inhales deeply through her nostrils, clearing what little remained of her sanity and composure to dry her tears. “I’m going to find a place to stay for the next few days… weeks, however long it will take. After that… I don’t know.” She mutters weakly.

Night Light trots slowly to the door, her hooves scraping against the floor as she wills her body to move. Before swinging it open, she mumbles once again.

“I lost everything, too. Don’t you think I want to move on?”

She swung the door open quicker than she had moved before, and just like that, she was gone. The house’s ambiance was now still and quiet.

Save for the sobs of a single pegasus.

“Open.”

My jaw widened as another spoonful of oatmeal was fed to me. Bleeding Heart painstakingly fed me spoonful after spoonful of his food from the pantry to ensure I wasn’t starving on the cot.

Hours had passed after I woke up before my stomach bellowed its dissatisfaction. Only for me to realize I was practically disabled with no way of feeding myself. The drip stands needed more time to feed Saline and Plasma, so I was going to be bedridden for another day at the least.

At least he added sugar to it.

“Water.” I rasped, soon greeted by a tall, thin glass of cool liquid flowing down my parched throat, one greedy swallow at a time.

Bleeding Heart scrapes a few more bits from the bottom of the bowl to savor one more spoonful for me to munch on. “Okay, that was the last one,” he concludes by standing up from his seat with a groan, the bowl and spoon levitating beside him as he trots to the kitchen sink.

The sound of running water soon reminded me of another problem I could not handle.

“Hey, uh,” I asked awkwardly, “... How do I go to the bathroom?”

Night had returned to Hollowbark. I could hear the faint chirping of crickets beyond the windows.

“You are not leaving this home.” Bleeding Heart strictly informs me. “Your wings were damaged during your little escapade, and the lacerations I’ve stitched up have not yet healed. You are going to be grounded for a few days at least.”

“And how long do stitches usually take to heal?”

“Usually? About a couple of weeks.”

“And I’m telling you, I don’t have a couple of weeks, Doctor. No offense to your abilities, but I cannot stay here for that long.”

“You can, and you will.” He rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Look, I don’t know what has got you in such a hurry. Frankly, it's none of my business, but I am sure it can be superseded in your list of priorities regarding your physical health.”

“Respectfully, Bleeding Heart, that particular list of priorities is quite rigid in its arrangement, and I am not willing to change it.”

“Your body doesn’t have a choice. It’s either you stay here, or you risk your treatment with strenuous activities. And as your caretaker, I am ordering you to stay put.”

The days went by surprisingly fast, given the painful situation I was in.

Being forced to sleep in a small space with scratchy cloth instead of clouds was uncomfortable enough. But to be forced to lay on my back with IV tubes poking all over me? To be practically frozen in place while doing so? While the noises outside disturbed my chances of slumber? It felt like I was in a tomb surrounded by tourists.

The night was far from still and quiet, as the bustling atmosphere of town only thrived during the night, which wasn’t surprising, given that this was a town entirely of Thestrals. Many of them conducted their day-to-day routines during the moonrise: running shops, mending fences, foals playing in the fields, shepherds tending to the flock of sheep outside of town.

Or at least, that was what Bleeding Heart told me. Not all the Thestrals in Hollowbark were entirely nocturnal. Some conducted their business during the day, usually merchants who traveled to neighboring towns to barter for goods. But they tended to start their routines, more often than not, at night.

At this particular moment, the sounds of foals cheering and yelling during their playtime outside did little to help me sleep.

My mind wanders back to the idle luxuries I had taken for granted just days before. I sorely missed the ability to eat and perform bodily functions without a helping hoof. I miss coffee. I miss my cloud bed. I miss the prospect of a peaceful night’s sleep. I miss the blissful ignorance that life offered just weeks prior.

I miss Night Light.

Thinking about these thoughts did little to improve the situation. The faint snoring from Bleeding Heart’s bedroom could be heard through the walls. I gave a bitter sigh.

Looks like sleep won’t be coming anytime soon.

It had been days since I could stretch my limbs and wings. After a few minutes of pleading between bites of Oatmeal, I could hear Bleeding Heart give a tired sigh as he worked on redressing the bandages around my body.

“No flying, do you understand? I want you to take it easy for the next few days,” he instructs as he pulls the last needle from my body. “I think it’s a bad idea, given your situation-”

“I’m only getting some fresh air. I’m not going into town,” I said honestly. “I just can’t stay in one place for long before I go crazy.”

“It’s fine if you did,” Bleeding Heart shrugs his shoulder as he wraps the last bandages together. “Just don’t do anything that would loosen the stitching. I worked hard on that.” he gripes. “But there, you’re done. Go enjoy the weather, or whatever it is you Pegasi do.” He adds with a grumble before shuffling off to his bedroom.

Stretching slowly and carefully along my limbs and back, I felt a wave of euphoric energy surge through my nostrils with a sigh of relief. It felt good to move again finally.

My eyes were blinded for a few seconds as they adjusted to the sun. Stepping outside greeted me with a calm wind billowing against my coat, which smelled of pumpkin and wood. The sun soothed my skin beneath in a pleasant blanket of warmth.

When they adjusted, the village was in full view from atop this small hill, sitting beneath the mighty mountain face of Canterlot, perched a mile above us. Given the circumstances, the sight looked intimidating. We were hiding, quite literally, right beneath their noses.

Shutting my eyes from the scenery, I simply stood there, taking it in—smelling the air, feeling the sun, taking a micro nap while standing, appreciating life.

It’s hard to believe that only a couple of days ago, I was on death’s door from jumping out of a window, of all things. What a pathetic way to almost die.

“Sunshine?”

An unfamiliar voice calls out to me, though it is paired with a face I immediately recognize.

“Quinna?”

“Hey! You’re finally out and about, I see! Uh, how are you holding up?” she asks idly, unsure where to start. Although if her eyes gazing at my bandages were any hints to go by, I’d say she was worried about me.

“Tired and sore but good,” I said honestly. “I’ve been told by Bleeding Heart that you and Berry were the ones who saved me. So thank you, I guess.”

“Eh, well, I figured it would be kind of rude of me to just leave you like that,” She chuckles halfheartedly. “I’d like to think you woulda done the same for me, so, yeah.”

I pulled her into a hug.

I’m unsure why I did it; the thought came out of nowhere, but it felt right.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I felt her return the embrace.

“... You’re welcome.” She softly replies, a little confused but appreciative of the gesture.

I blinked, and suddenly, the moment felt awkward, if not wholesome. Retreating from the embrace, I saw a tint of color on Quinna’s cheeks. “Whew, I didn’t know you were a hugger,” she chuckled again. “I’m kind of like that, too.”

“I’m usually not. The moment just happened.” I replied.

“Well, I’m not complaining, I like hugs!” she smiles adorably.

She looks like Night Light.

A sudden flash of inspiration stirred me to decide what to do next. “Hey, Quinna, can I ask you for-... well, okay, for two quick favors?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Um, sure. What is it?”

“First, I need a place to stay for a couple of days-”

“Done! You can sleep on my couch!”

I blinked. “Wait… what?”

“You wanted a place to sleep, right? I have a futon that can turn into a bed! You can sleep there for the time being, for however long you need!” she beams at me with a smile.

I blinked again, harder. “What?”

“Are you okay? You look a little confused.”

“I am. You’re just going to invite me into your home? Just like that?”

“Well, yeah. You seem like a good pony, so I trust you.”

Oh, bless her soul; she is too innocent for this world.

Shut up, brain; now is not the time.

“What was your second favor?”

“Wait, hang on,” I shook my head, “you are perfectly okay with me, who is a random stranger to you, to be just living inside your home for a few days?”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that what Bleeding Heart did to you?”

“He’s a doctor, that makes sense. This you are telling me doesn’t make sense.”

“Okay, now you are confusing me. Why doesn’t this make sense? Is it different from where you’re from?” she asks, tilting her head.

I paused, suddenly feeling like I was navigating a social minefield. “Uh, yes?” I answered carefully.

“Well, to me, I think it’s fine. Firstly, you are not a stranger here in Hollowbark; almost everyone here knows about you and is concerned for your well-being. And secondly,” she paused, suddenly scanning me top to bottom with her eyes.

“You just… I don’t know what it is about you, but something tells me you are a good pony. And that you need help, so here I am. I’m here to help!” she beams again.

I blinked a third time, harder still. Yet my brain was still running laps around itself. It felt somewhat absurd, but… who was I to turn down this generosity?

“Now, you said you had two favors to ask. What was your second one?”

That sentence helped me snap out of it, finally thinking with clarity.

“Uh, well, I need your help in finding someone.”

“Lemme guess, Night Light?”

“... Yeah, how-”

“It’s obvious. Who else are you going to be talking about?”

Touché. “So you know where she is, then?” I asked hopefully.

Verdant meadows of mature and adolescent dandelions ebbed and flowed with the wind, the soft breeze tickling the hairs of my coat and billowing my mane. They bloomed beneath the open sky of Celestia’s sun, a dirt path running between a small creek and the flowery fields, ending in a break at the treeline to the east of the village.

Upon closer inspection, my eyes locked onto the seemingly endless patch of thick and mighty willow and deciduous trees. They grew with such a dense canopy that light was smothered in their leaves before reaching the ground. A flash of recognition dawned on me at the sight of it.

Bleeding Heart was right; this wasn’t just any forest. This was the Everfree.

And it was here, sitting a little bit away from the very same log we both hid behind upon first arriving at Hollowbark, that Night Light sat alone. She stared into the entrance of the Everfree, where the dirt path ended and the forest began. Overgrown grass, mushrooms, moss, and vines hanging down the tree branches greeted her in silence as I quietly approached her.

I paused, feeling something caked beneath my hooves.

Looking down, I could see the darkened stains of my blood still visible from the first night. It pooled beneath the mossy log onto the stained blades of grass, the latter of which had a splotch that resembled something of an inkblot test—evidence of my bloody escapade plain to see for anyone wandering by. I feel a shiver travel up my spine.

Night Light seemed unaware of my presence as I stood a reasonable distance away from her. I had found her, but what should I say? ‘I’m sorry?’ I suddenly realized that I had no plan for getting this far. I was at a loss for what to do.

So, instead of fabricating a plan on the spot, I just stood there, like an idiot… just watching her.

We continued to ponder silently for a few minutes, neither moving a muscle nor uttering a word. Whenever I felt like I had something to say, the words died before leaving my throat.

I didn’t know what to do, what to say, where to go, or who to talk to. This idea feels more and more like a mistake by the second. Why am I still standing here? What was I even doing here, to begin with? To make amends for ruining her life? How would I even start doing that?

Why am I doing this?

Promise me.

Night Light’s words reverberate in my head again.

No matter what happens. No matter where we are. No matter who stands in our way... Promise me that you won't give up on us. Please?

I sat down on my haunches, staring at the grass beneath my hooves as the words echoed repeatedly. I remember lying in bed together to soothe each other, blissfully unaware that it would be one of our last tender moments.

I can hear my response through my skull without much effort.

I promise I won’t give up on us.

A soft gasp was heard from in front of me. I look up to see Night Light staring from behind her shoulder with wide eyes.

Oh shit, I said that out loud, didn’t I?

I clammed up instantly as we made eye contact, finding myself mute. We stared at each other motionlessly for a few tense seconds until Night Light lifted her hooves to rub her eyes. Blinking hard a few times, she finds me still sitting there, waiting for her to speak first.

“Sunshine? You’re outside?” she asks for confirmation as if she is losing her mind.

“Just about,” I replied.

There was more tense silence. Neither of us seemed prepared for this particular moment. Her eyes glaze up and down at my somewhat clean bandages, the stitching still sending jolts of pain up my side with each idle breath. I made an effort to seem like I was healthy and not in constant pain.

“I don’t know what to say.” I spoke honestly, “Except for ‘I’m sorry,’ but I know that is not good enough.”

She blinks softly at those words, taking them in for what they are—an apology, plain and simple, but not with the exemption of guilt or responsibility.

“I don’t know what to say, either,” she admits, eyes tracing my dressings. “... except, maybe, are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to speak some nonchalant answer, and again, the words died on my tongue. Because truth be told…? “No, I am not.”

Her eyes frowned, then blinked into sympathy. “I figured.” She shuffled awkwardly with her hooves scratching the back of her neck. “I… I know I have no right to ask this after what I said to you earlier, but… do you wanna talk about it?”

After that seemingly innocuous question, the birds chirping their songs caught my attention. I turned north towards the mountains, listening to the breeze tickle my ears, the birds singing, the leaves billowing, and the stillness of summer turning into autumn.

My jaw tightened, and I felt my nerves shiver with dread. I blinked, and for a moment, I was back inside Canterlot—inside those halls.

Only for a moment, but it's enough to make me feel the surge of panic inside me.

“Night Light, I…” I attempted to speak to keep my thoughts clear. “Night Light, I am damaged.” The words sounded hollow as they left my mouth. My tongue began to ramble as if on autopilot.

“I am far too damaged to ever be ‘okay’ again. Every time I try to go to sleep, I have nightmares that feel too vivid to be just dreams. Every nightmare involves me killing, dying, or facing death in some kind of way. And they all end badly, either with me dying or someone else. And it feels like something or someone is talking to me, judging me for what I’ve done.

“It feels like a warning—a reminder of something terrible coming. Something that I don’t think I can stop, and I don’t even know what it is! Then, amidst all of this, I am suddenly pulled out from the quagmire that is going on inside my head to another dilemma that is seemingly beyond my control!

“And suddenly, I am expected to be responsible for helping stop what is potentially the worst disaster Equestria would ever experience—something that would pale The Great War in all its horror!? And I am supposed to just stop it?!

“And then—on top of everything else—I made everything worse by lashing out the way I did, by killing them! Forcing us into exile because I… I…”

Crimson seeps back into my hooves, and for a second, I can feel my coat matted beneath caked blood. I shut my eyes, breathing in deep but slowly. As I exhaled, I could feel my throat quiver in anticipation.

“I just…”

I sat down hard on my haunches, feeling the energy in my body wane by the second. I felt like I had run for miles without stopping, sighing with as much force as I could muster, head sagging uncomfortably low to the ground. I wanted to cry. But…

“I am just… tired, Night Light. I just feel tired.” I mumbled atonally.

I sat against the log, which was still stained with my mistakes. My mind was running on empty now, the fatigue quietly settling in the corners of my mind to drag it back a few paces. The jet lag was like a whiplash from a sudden and violent storm, leaving me defenseless to its maw sinking into me.

“... I know how you feel.”

Night Light mumbled. I didn’t bother to look up. My body was content to lay there and be still.

“How?” I murmur back.

The breeze picked up pace for a few seconds, buffeting against me as it threatened to keel me over. I could hear the grass crumple beneath her hooves as Night Light trotted to my side and sat beside me. No words were immediately spoken. She sat silently, letting the wind and birds establish their hold on the ambiance.

“I had… well, I don’t know if he was a friend, but an acquaintance—one who would help me from time to time. He helped me cheat death.”

That made my ears flick. I looked up to see Night Light speak with a look of recollection in her eyes. “I briefly glossed over how I cheated death over Mead Lake, but I didn’t really tell you what happened, did I?”

“... No, not really,” I answered, somewhat curious about where this was going.

“I… I never knew his real name, only his moniker, but he went by the name ‘Doc.’ He saved me.”

“... I don’t know him,” I answered after searching my brain for familiarity.

“You wouldn’t, but he helped me in so many ways. He helped me get back to my ship after being left behind, got back on my feet to take the fight to the Changelings, and gave me technology that would help me stay one step ahead of the enemy. Everything he did, he had done so with the sole purpose of ending the war as quickly as possible."

I noticed her ears drooping as he continued to list his accomplishments.

“It doesn’t sound like this story has a happy ending,” I observed. Night Light nodded softly in mute acknowledgment.

“He made a promise to me many years ago,” she began slowly, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "That he would… ‘Never leave me behind, even if the world turned its back on me.’ And I believed him. I believed him because he was the only one who knew the truth about me otherwise.”

Her head sagged lower.

“... What happened to him?”

“That’s just it… I don’t know.” She shrugs in disbelief with an exasperated sigh. “It’s like he vanished! He was there one day, barking orders at me on what to do, and then I never heard from him again.”

“Never ever?”

“Never, ever, ever! He was just gone! And that messed me up… badly. For the longest time, I didn’t know what to do without him. I didn’t know how to keep moving forward despite all that was going against me. And now that I’m here, coming to terms with losing everything, I miss him. And yet, I don’t? It’s… it’s a little confusing.” she finishes with ambivalence.

It felt like puzzle pieces were finally clicking into place in my mind. “Wait, so… is that why you wanted me to make that promise to you in the first place? To never give up on us? Was it because…” I trailed off to see if the correlation was genuine and not just a figment of my imagination. A meek nod from her head confirms my predictions.

“I just… want to know what became of him after all these years. And I wonder if he even remembers his promise to me, like I do.”

“... It’s not unreasonable to think that,” I replied. “I would be upset, too.”

“Upset… yes. That’s one way of looking at it.”

“... So, how do you know how I feel then?”

A bitter sigh emanates from her throat as she looks deeper into the Everfree again.

“Aigaion. Doc… he made it apparent to my squad—my friends—that we were the only ones with the skill and chemistry to take the fight to the Aigaion and its lackeys. But… in hindsight, that must’ve been either lofty wishing or just sweet nothings he told to keep us sane. Nobody could kill that thing by themselves. It just wasn’t possible.” She sags her head lower to the ground.

“But me? Back then? I didn’t care about that way of thinking. I only cared about keeping everyone I cared about alive. That was all that mattered to me. But in his eyes, that wasn’t good enough.” she suddenly frowns. “It was always about ending the war for him. And he believed Aigaion was the key to it all.”

“Was it?”

“I don’t know, maybe? In hindsight, it is hard to say, given all we know now…” she mutters darkly to herself before adding on with a shake of her head. “But the bottom line is this: I was his greatest tool in Doc's eyes. His most efficient weapon. And sometimes, that was all he saw me as. And… I don’t know; maybe I was sick of it all by that point, but I wanted that to change. I didn’t want to be the pony everyone relied on. It was hard enough trying to keep four of us alive. I didn’t want anymore lives on my conscience. I just wanted it to be done.”

She looks up with a firm look in her eyes. “So yes, believe it or not, I know how you feel about this, Sunshine. You are not the only one suffering here.”

My brain ran laps around itself to parse all of this exposition. Most of my energy faded away beneath a blanket of fatigue, giving what little of it remained only an iota of mental capacity to work with. My senses were still fried from the surgery, and pain constantly shot up my side with each passing breath.

But beyond the fog clouding my mind and the lethargy from being in constant pain, I could see that Night Light was still hurt by this unintentional betrayal even though years had passed.

What was I supposed to say amidst all of that?

My mind was empty for a fleeting moment as I tuned into the environment around me. No memories were haunting me, and no contradicting thoughts were plaguing me. The sun warmed my skin as it crested above the peaks towering Canterlot, and the sky never looked so clear before, so blue and pretty.

It felt like the world had stopped for a few minutes. A shadow of a smile started to creep on my lips before they hardened into another frown.

“Sunshine?” Night Light asks with a confused tone.

“It was always so cold in Cloudsdale,” I finally spoke, staring into the sky. “I forgot how warm it was down on the surface. How pretty the sky looks from the ground.”

I imagined Night Light also peered up into the sky with me. I didn’t see; I was too busy staring upwards.

We stared into the sky like whimsical foals, neither speaking nor moving during this odd and solitary moment. Cloudsdale was just a little more westward from where we stood. Its rainbow falls were still glistening with fractal beauty even from such a distance away—our home. It was so close and yet so far.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever looked at the sky from the ground—really looked. I'm amazed at how blue everything is.” I marveled at the shapes of the clouds, how they drifted slowly across the blue canvas, and how the wind hummed its song amidst the forest.

“It’s… It's beautiful.”

A lonely cloud drifts over the sun, casting a shadow beneath its shade as the ground feels cooler by the second. For a few seconds, the breeze accentuates the stillness of the shadow. When the cloud parted, it felt like a curtain was lifted from the sky.

“... Yeah.” Night Light softly affirms. “It is.”

The wind picked up pace for a second, elevating blades of grass in a wild flurry. Seedlings from mature dandelions float beyond my sightline as I watch them flutter out of my view. I kept turning my head until I locked eyes with Night Light again.

I looked away from her, once again feeling ashamed to peer at her. I finally knew what I was going to say next.

This is going to hurt.

“Look, I… I know that I fucked up.” I admitted with no shortage of shame. “I know I fucked up badly. I know that I ruined our lives. I know there is no going back after what I did. I know you have no right to stay with me after everything. I know what I did was unforgivable. I know I don’t forgive myself.”

I inhaled another shaky breath, feeling my eyes grow moist by the second. Why is this so difficult?

“And, I-I know that you have every right to leave. And if you do, I… I won’t stop you. I won’t f-force you to stay with me because of my selfish reasons. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

I finally turn my head down to look at Night Light in the eyes, cheeks wet with tears. She looks at me with paleish-jade eyes that glisten in the sunlight. After seeing her holding back tears, I wanted to dig in a hole and cry myself to sleep. Yet I continued onward despite this.

“If you know for a fact—with a certainty—that you will not be happy for another day with me, then I won’t stop you. I will let you go. I know I don’t deserve you anyway.” Feeling my head sag, these following words somehow felt heavier. “But if you think there is still a chance—no matter how minuscule it may seem—if there is still a chance for us to be happy…” I couldn’t finish, even if I wanted to. More of my words died in my tightened throat as I felt tears stream freely down my cheeks. The gravity nearly sagged me down to hug the earth.

Glomp!

Soft feathers and supple skin warmed my being as Night Light embraced me, with hooves and wings—wrapping around me like a cocoon. I felt myself blinking hard, unsure of what had just happened. She tightened her grip around me as I heard choked gasps. But this time, not from me. She sobs quietly as she buries her eyes into my shoulders.

“Please stop.” I heard her muffled voice plead through my coat. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay,”

I gingerly returned the embrace, my hooves clutching around her barrel with desperation.

“It’s not okay,” I answered before surrendering to another messy crying episode.

“I don’t care,” she stammers through her tightened throat. “Please don’t leave. Not again.”

The floodgates were now well and truly opened. Both of us sobbed into each other, asking for forgiveness, comfort, and something other than the torment we had endured for far too long.

“I love you.” Night Light mumbles into me.

“I know,” I stammered, “I love you, too.”

“... Thank you.”