Braeburn’s eyes adjusted to his surroundings.

He tried to move his hooves, but found that they were bound together.

Struggling to rise to his hooves, he saw the moon high above.

If it was night what was he doing outside?

Why were his hooves bound together?

Suddenly panicking, he struggled all the harder.

He took into account the rough texture rubbing against his back the more he struggled.

Was he on a train track?

As if answering his question, he heard the sounds of a train coming his way.

He had to move, he had to get out of the way!

He heard the train steadily approaching, he prayed that they would see him and stop.

He began screaming at the top of his lungs, if the pony driving the train couldn’t see him maybe they could hear him.

In the end his efforts were in vain, the train drove right over him, as he let out a final scream of agony.