Rainbow Dash harrumphed in bed, propping up—with her hoof—her head. “Bed rest is boring!” She said. To entertain herself, she’d lazily read. Eyes widened at conclusion she dread: Every book in bed, already read—and reread—to her now dead. Other things flew through her head: Her new foal asleep; her stomach well-fed; and her husband not home, working instead. She rolled on her back, sinking into the bed. Her new foal rolled with her, unborn, thoroughbred. iring him then, nothing was said, and she looked from her navel pointing ahead, to see on the wall a photograph, of pegasi wed. She poked him with a hoof, she thought on his head. It was his butt, she learned, from kicking instead. She saw something else when turning her head, just out of reach, a book she’d not read.
Wings hovering, hindhoof on bed, barely grabbing it, a new book to be read.
Edited