Scootadash "Here Goes Nothing..." Epilogue

The trees sing as the wind rushes through them before swooping down into the valley. Roaring water flings itself from the precipice, drowning out the hustle and bustle from the town below. Dry earth dusted with pine needles gives way to bare rock, slick with spray and algae, which in turn gives way to open space, affording a spectacular view of Canterlot and it's surrounding hills. Bitter woodsmoke taints the sharp smell of the forest, betraying a campsite nearby. The sun, low in the sky, lends an orange tint to the scene, making it seem as though the area is ablaze. A well worn path leads to a particular log, smoothed by it's use as a bench. A lone figure sits, silhouetted by the setting sun, contemplating the vista. Unanswered questions hang in the air, unasked. Serenity descends. Each leaf takes an age to fall. Each insect's wingbeat takes aeons. Time stands still.

 

An eternity later, the last fingers of the dying sun slip from the treetops. Footfall. A hand on a shoulder. "Let's go, Dash. It's dangerous up here."

 

"Yeah, I know."