There were still bags beneath Dash’s eyes. Her ears never seemed to point in the same direction, always swiveling about, as though a thousand phantom sounds assailed her. The bright mane that caught Rarity’s eye before seemed almost dull, now that she was close enough to count the individual strands.

“So, how have you been?” Rarity asked, as though the answer weren’t obvious. She tried to keep the concern out of her voice. “I haven’t seen you since the, ah…”

“Funeral,” Dash finished for her. “And I’m good. You know. Getting better.”