Everything was fuzzy and rather cold. Dark, as well, but growing lighter; what was once complete blackness began to warp and contour, becoming sounds and smells and light filtering weakly through her shut eyelids. Her breathing was slow and steady and deep. Her body felt heavy and thick and immovable. Her eyes knew there was light beyond their lids, and shrank away from it, wanting to remain in the comfortable dark. But it was too late. The sun had moved to face Synder, and even her tightly clamped lids couldn’t keep its glare from her eyes.

She began to stir. Still blind, she struggled weakly to turn her head away from the sun, but there was little she could do on the ground. Finally she found a shadow, large enough only to cover her eyes, but that was good enough. She opened them. A painted, twisted leg was keeping the sun at bay, and her eyes traveled up it and recognized the body it belonged to: Felony.

Synder should have been spooked by the stallion’s presence, but she wasn’t. A bit surprised, perhaps, because it looked like he had been there a while, but she wasn’t afraid. Closing her eyes again (despite the shadow, it was still very bright outside) she squirmed until her front half was no longer sprawled in the dirt but braced on her front legs. Her back half wriggled to assist the change in position, but ultimately remained sprawled; she didn’t have the energy to move much more than just her head and shoulders.

She stayed in that position for a while, turning once to bump Felony’s injured leg (gently) with her nose. Then she was still, trying to muster up her energy and remember how she had gotten like this.