In the ambulance, there was a flurry of motion, a cacophony of sounds surrounding the broken ram. Sirens from above blaring, horns honking as the vehicle sped towards the hospital with all haste. The medics were shouting things to each other as they tried to stabilize the black sheep, each beep of the monitor a small messenger of hope that their patient was still with them.

But the ram couldn't see these people, fighting for his life even as he had tried to throw it away for a media sensation, fleeting as it was. He could not hear the sirens telling everyone to make way. It was an eerie, silent darkness. "No bright light and singing angels... guess this is hell, then. But it's not hot..." the sheep though to himself. When he had hit the ground, the world had disappeared, like a candle snuffed out by the wind. But nothing after that; nothing he had expected, anyways. Perhaps this was the most merciful of ends. No heaven; no hell. No anything; he hadn't been a religious sort, anyways. But for now, the darkness enveloped the ram's mind...

...

The shire got back home as quickly as he could before hopping in the car to head to St. Francis' Hospital. He couldn't get the image of the fallen ram's body out of his head, and his normally careful driving seemed much more frantic. "Sorry..!" he called out to another motorist that he inadvertently cut off in traffic. "Gonna end up next to the ram if I'm not careful..."

Pulling up to the visitor's spaces for the hospital, he got out and made his way to the ER to speak with the nurse, a nice cat. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes... my name is Flare Starfire, and I'm here to check up on the ram that was brought in earlier, the jumper." Flare spoke softly, the concern showing in his voice. "Is he going to be alright?..."

"Are you friend or family?" The nurse-cat replied politely.

"I'm a friend, you could say. I was the one who found him." Flare hadn't considered that in his haste. He didn't even know the ram's name....

The nurse smiled sympathetically, pulling up the paramedics report in the computer. "I'm afraid they're still working on Mr. Zeryx, sir. His injuries are listed as severe, and he's still unconscious. If you like, you can wait here, or I can take your information and call you later with any further updates."

Flare nodded softly. "I think I'll wait here, if it's alright ma'am. I think Zeryx needs a friend right about now."

The nurse nodded. "Of course. Please have a seat in the waiting room."

....

Hours passed, and yet it seemed like an eternity. But soon enough, the doors swung open, and a team of nurses escorted a gurney with the battered ram on it through to the Intensive Care ward. Flare jumped to his hooves in concern, calling out. "Zeryx..."

One of the nurses escorting came to stop the white horse from following, shaking his head. "I'm sorry sir. We've done what we can, but he's not waking up. It's up to him now if he wants to come out of his coma. There's no telling. I'm sorry."
With that, he turned to catch up with the rest of the nurses, and was gone.

Flare looked dismayed. "A coma...." Sitting back down, it occurred to him that such a fate might in fact be worse than death itself.