What she felt instead was dirt in her mouth.

“Ptooey!” Meadow felt her mouth moving, but it was Tempest’s deeper alto voice that was coughing and gagging before a yellow-furred forelimb came up to wipe sand and grit out of her watering eyes.

Attempting to say something, Meadow found she was at a loss to do anything of her own free will other than simply be present and experience this memory. She was no more than a silent observer, unable to enact any will of her own except to simply watch… and hopefully enjoy the show.

The effect was terrifying. She couldn’t back out of this even if she wanted to.

Other sensations made themselves known. She felt a pervasive fatigue throughout her body, and numerous smaller sources of pain and stinging coming from both her torso and her extremities. Emotionally, she felt completely wrung out.

After spitting a few more times, Tempest coughed as she climbed back up to her hooves. Smaller rocks and debris continued to roll and noisily skid down from above, a few bouncing off of her flank making her yelp and lurch forward a bit.

Two things were immediately apparent: the air was heavy with dust as the taste of earth coated her tongue and throat, and further, where she had been standing in broad daylight only a few heartbeats ago, she was now surrounded by complete darkness.