The stallion known as the Dread Pirate Ne'er-Do-Well rolled over and groaned. His all-black ensemble was caked with mud and torn in places where he had caught against stones on the way down, but other than a tender contusion in his side, he was miraculously unharmed. He struggled to his knees, looking around with bleary eyes. A flash of vermillion dress and violet mane had caught his attention during the tumble.
Not far, Princess Rarity had also skidded down the muddy slope and now lay in a crumpled heap, under the leeward side of a boulder. The pirate crawled over to her and gently lifted the mare into his forelimbs, checking her over for wounds. Rarity's sapphire eyes fluttered open and the look in them was not fear or fury, but recognition and love.
Davenport's mouth could barely form words. "Can you move at all?" he asked at last.
"Move?" Rarity whispered. "You're alive. If you want, I could fly