For the working mare did the hour had pass by ever so fast. But for the unicorn it seemed that the seconds themselves were hours passing by. She found herself wandering through the warm streets but her hooves stayed as cold as they were. The coolness that only the dead could give was pulsing through them. Rarity granted herself to sniffle from time to time as the eyes were closed, making a gap of only blackness in the hood of the cloak, an empty void. Almost the same as her heart was at the moment. Tears of blood made their way past her cheeks to her chin or nose and unto the ground the more steps she took.