It must have been morning. The birds were in full choir, while the sun ungraciously pried its way through. Twilight tried to open her eyes. Wanted to lift her head. But her body would not comply. What time was it? What day was it? Did she even remember falling asleep? The air was delicate and gentle; her pillow wondrously soft and inviting. If she could just sleep another...
A hint of stale oats tickled her nostrils. A platter of food beside her bed, that she didn't quite remember putting there. Somewhere in the back of her mind was a little voice. A voice that begged her to wake. Reminding her of something important, some kind of plan. Some kind of meeting. A promise made to Fluttershy. But that voice was fading. Frail. Gone.