Two years.
Two years can be a lifetime during monumental events. Your whole world can change—in some cases literally—in the blink of an eye. Your goals, your values, your very sense of self. Everything can be taken away, replaced with something else, something you have no control over but ultimately something you have to make for yourself… and that is genuinely horrifying.
My name is Carina. I was one of Queen Serosa’s hoof-picked elite infiltrators... but as far as I can tell, I am now the only survivor of my hive. More recently, I have come to believe that I may also be the only ‘unreformed’ changeling left in Equestria.
This is my story, and it’s a thousand years in the making...
The bitterly cold wind stabbed at me, seeming to pierce my glossy chitin as I stood at the crest of a snow-covered rise. Below lay the Crystal Empire.
It’s about time, I thought to myself as I looked down upon my destination. It had taken me nearly two months to arrive by hoof, which was significantly longer than it should have. An eternal blizzard was raging across the lands between my hive and where I found myself at that moment, making flight all but impossible, but at least my goal was finally in sight.
Removing the weatherbeaten old saddlebag containing the few essential items I possessed, I crouched down to build a short windbreak out of packed snow. It was a process that had become so routine during my journey north that I was able to multitask, reviewing everything I knew about this fourth tribe and the frozen north they called home while going through the motions.
The most obvious physical feature was the towering crystal spire that straddled the central square of the oddly star-shaped city. It was certainly an imposing structure, but not much more so than one of our hive’s guard spires.
The Crystal Heart, my mission’s primary objective, was likely housed within. It was described to me as a single shard of clear crystal, approximately the size of an average pony’s torso. It functioned similarly to a massive love crystal—which is to say, as a battery capable of storing love energy to be consumed for major magical expenditures.
I had six such crystals with me, two of which were already dull and loveless, having been consumed on the long journey here. Those that made the trip with me were each the size of a quartered apple.
Needless to say, I could understand my queen’s desire to claim a love crystal many dozens of times larger than the ones I was entrusted with for the mission. The fact that every pony in this country routinely and willingly infused it with pure love meant that it was almost undoubtedly fully-charged as well. Such a treasure could sustain the entire hive for months, maybe even years!
Focus, I berated myself, no self-respecting infiltrator would be distracted by a fantasy. You are here to do a job. The queen demands you secure an object? You secure it. What it does is not your concern.
I put the Heart out of my mind and moved on to reviewing more critical matters.
The city streets were laid out in a wheel spoke pattern, all leading either toward the central square or perpendicular to it, connecting two spokes together. Only along these secondary streets will you find lesser side roads with residential housing on them. The main thoroughfares were congested with businesses and government buildings, and the closer to the center you traveled, the more important or expensive things became.
Looking down on the city once more, everything I was told about the place seemed to line up with what I saw.
No. Correction: almost everything.
Scattered throughout the city rose large, jagged black crystals that contrasted sharply against the blue and white crystalline architecture.
I personally found them more to my liking than the native color palette. Still, those obsidian monoliths weren’t mentioned in my briefing, and that made me more than a little nervous.
Infiltrators are trained to treat anything out of the ordinary as dangerous. Even something as seemingly mundane as a geological outcropping may have a cultural meaning that locals would understand. Reacting to them in the wrong way could arouse suspicion and jeopardize the mission.
Shivering and reluctant, I picked up my saddlebag and left the protective windbreak behind as I made my way down the slope. The snow made the descent challenging as it hid stones and crystal formations from my sight, which reached out to welcome my hooves most inconveniently. The swirling snow blowing up into my face seemed to delight in watching me stumble. The chill breeze seemed to giggle, and more than once, I watched the world invert itself as I acquainted myself with the ground.
My shoulder ached by the time I was standing at the bottom. Otherwise, the dark carapace covering my body did its job in protecting the critical bits. My pride refused to allow me to look back at the trail I had blazed, knowing the number of body-shaped indentations in the snow was a number greater than zero.
I was now close enough to the city to be noticed, so it was time to make a few decisions.
My new disguise would be named ‘Headway.’ I decided on a slate grey coat color with a cobalt blue mane and tail. I’ve always felt mane maintenance was a bother, so I opted for a relatively simple design that I could more or less ignore without much fuss. My new eyes were the color of emeralds.
Unfortunately, crystal ponies were almost entirely made up of the earth pony variety, so that made the decision between wings or a horn easy enough for me. Since either one would stand out, I was effectively forced to choose neither.
The only thing remaining was to select a cutiemark. Personally, I’d never really seen the appeal of a tattoo that dictated your life. Still, they hold a certain amount of significance for ponies, so some degree of thought had to be put into it. I kept coming back to the idea of a circle, split between two colors, mixing truth and fiction together in an everflowing duality, so that is what I settled on. One half of the loop I made green, to symbolize one of the most common pony coat colors up here, and the other half was a dark grey, the color of changeling chitin.
I was no rookie, I was selected for this mission. I knew my disguise would absolutely hold up to scrutiny until I remembered the one detail that would add difficulty to this particular infiltration.
Usually, the inhabitants of the empire were a bit more subdued than our southern prey. The except to this was whenever the power of the Heart was utilized, everypony in the city would suddenly become crystalline and slightly transparent. I wasn’t sure if that would include my disguise or not.
It wouldn’t do to blow my cover by being the only opaque pony in town, but how was I going to make immediate modifications to myself without ponies noticing? The process was a little flamboyant, after all.
My mind was still abuzz as I approached the road leading into the city. A few crystal formations were lining the street at various intervals, so I selected one of them to hide behind.
I waited there for what seemed like hours, hoping to catch somepony entering or leaving town. It was my intention to interrogate someone about the black crystals, but none ever crossed my path.
Another red flag, I thought to myself.
A city of this size, even one as isolated as the empire—what a misnomer that is, now that I think about it—should have ponies coming and going all day long. Traders, farmers, even foals playing in the fields… but nopony ever left.
I realized that I would have to do my own reconnaissance.
Deciding that a domesticated house cat would be the least conspicuous disguise, I called upon my inner reserve of magic and bathed in the comforting warmth of emerald flames.
All too soon, it did its job, melting away my flawless body and molding it into that of a fluffy grey alley cat.
Assuming the form of non-carapaced creatures takes most changelings a while to become comfortable with. Some never get used to having an internal bone structure or soft, weak skin covered in hair. It certainly took me longer than a few others in my clutch, but up here in the cold, I could appreciate the advantages of large quantities of fur and layers of fat.
I left my saddlebag at the base of the crystal formation and deliberately sauntered into town like I owned the place.
Once I had entered the city limits, I knew it immediately. The snow was suddenly left behind, as though neatly shoveled along an intangible line surrounding civilization. The temperature rose dramatically with each step, and by the time I was surrounded by buildings, the thickness of my fur seemed almost oppressive.
As I padded my way toward one of the black formations, I selected a privacy wall and leaped to the top of it, using my momentum to transition into a sitting position as I landed in one fluid motion.
I sat there, nearly motionless, flipping the tip of my tail in apparent boredom as I waited for somepony to approach. I needed to see how the locals responded to these unusual black stalagmites.
Unfortunately, hoof traffic was rather sparse. It was almost half an hour before the first pony walked past.
I am not sure how long it will take me to forget the moment I first encountered what I would later refer to as the affected. Perhaps I never will.
The first was a mare. She was athletic, sporty even, and of average height. Her coat was perhaps a shade or two lighter than my own. She walked at an unusually brisk pace and did not move her head, even as she passed my impromptu observation post. I would have said she seemed like a typical pony if not for the full face-covering helmet she wore. Strange enough on its own, but my blood ran cold when I saw a familiar shade of green glowing from under the eye slits. I stared daggers into the pony as she continued on her way, utterly oblivious to her surroundings.
That looked like changeling magic, was my first thought. How? This is my mission. How could someling else have beaten me here? Was there a second hive somewhere that my queen didn’t know about?
She projected no outward emotions, and I had to concentrate reasonably hard to sniff out any emotion at all.
Fear.
That was all she felt, and it was buried so deeply that I almost couldn’t find it. She didn’t think about anything that would trigger an emotional response. She didn’t daydream. She didn’t worry about bills, meal plans, friends. She didn’t feel anything except fear.
Shock. Sadness. Anger. Robbed of the chance to please my queen. A myriad of emotions surged through me, seeming to make up for the mare’s lack. I raged internally and felt my fur bristle and stand on end. My voice came out as a low, growling hiss.
I probably would have mauled a small animal right then had two more ponies not wandered by. I quickly silenced myself as I examined the newcomers.
Upon examination, confusion replaced the rage within me. These two did not wear the same sort of helmet the first pony did, yet their eyes were likewise glowing a soft green.
I reached out with my senses and came back with the same results; fear rooted deep, and nothing else.
These two aren’t changelings, and they aren’t under a queen’s hypnosis, I mused to myself. I need to figure this out. There might not be a rival hive at work here, but clearly, something other than me is in play.
I hopped down off the wall and backtracked toward the crystal formation. Once out of sight, another flash of green flame covered my form. Again I delighted in the feeling of my body liquefying and flowing into a new shape held within my mind. It was intoxicating but far too brief.
When I was done, ‘Headway’ took physical form for the first time. I quickly retrieved my belongings, rolled my shoulders to settle the bag into a more comfortable position, and cautiously approached the city.
I was glad of my earlier expedition into town. Where I would have initially chosen to walk down the street in a comfortable, confident manner, I instead opted for stealth and patience.
The streets were virtually abandoned, but there were enough locals patrolling—for that seemed to be their only purpose—to force me down a side street or into a perfectly intact, but otherwise wide-open and abandoned, storefront to hide as they passed me by.
Cover to cover. Shadow to shadow. I thought I was doing quite well for myself until I rounded a corner and came heart-stoppingly close to discovery.
Two ponies wearing city guard armor, wielding spears, and donning the now-familiar helmets were traveling parallel to me along an adjacent street when they suddenly turned onto the main road just as I was about to do the same.
My world tumbled. An immense weight crashed into my side while a hoof flew over my muzzle, clamping it shut. I looked down at the sky as the ground rushed up to knock the air out of my lungs. Piercing blue eyes made contact with mine, inches away, though only long enough to ensure I wasn’t going to scream. They retreated as the hoof came away from my mouth, leaving me to lay on my side, gasping for breath with an incredible anger building within.
“You’ll be fine, just try not to make a sound,” whispered the pale blue stallion who’d just tackled me.
I watched as he spun in place, readying the same sort of spear I’d seen the city guards carrying as he crouched low into a recognizable combat-ready stance, watching the main street from which we’d just come. It was evident that he’d been formally trained. Not that it mattered to me at that moment.
The nerve of this pony, I thought, to give me orders… to assault me in the streets! Why would he show me his back? I will end him now, the old fool.
I was just about to energize my horn, intending to send a blast of flaming death into the back of his skull, when I realized the power wasn’t coming forth.
Oh, right. No horn. It doesn’t matter! I can just drop my disguise and blast him in the name of my queen.
As I was formulating a brilliant plan of revenge, I watched the tension in his body relax. He stood up straight and turned to face me, resting his spear against one shoulder as he looked down.
Suddenly realizing I was still lying in the street, I scrambled to my hooves and focused on the pony before me. I will admit, it was a relief to feel complex emotions coming off one of the locals.
Relief. Joy. Curiosity. Guilt.
His reaction intrigued me, so I shelved my plans for his imminent demise and returned his scrutiny. Since he seemed content to stand there sizing me up, I took the opportunity to do the same.
Crystal Pony. Older but clearly in combat-ready shape. Grizzled, short-cropped mane and tail. Crows feet surrounding hard, alert eyes. Government-issued weapon. Likely a former soldier. No noticeable injuries or weaknesses to exploit.
After a few brief moments, the stallion broke the silence between us and introduced himself.
“Sorry about that, son. I didn’t mean to be so abrupt, but I was watching you make your way down the street and knew you wouldn’t be able to see those guards in time to react,” he said. “I’m Warden, Captain of the Roy-” he choked on his words, and I was slammed by a wave of remorse. The emotion was quickly checked, proving he was in control of himself, but the intensity of it was unexpected.
It nearly made me nauseous.
“Well, just Warden now,” he amended as he lifted his head and resumed eye contact.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” I replied, somehow recognizing the correct response to the social situation I had been presented with, even though I hadn’t yet realized just how significant his choice of words was.
“My name’s Headway,” I resumed. “I’ve been away for a while and came home to this. What’s going on?”
“You certainly have been away a while if this is new to you,” he replied. “Come with me, we’ll go somewhere safer, and I will fill you in on current events. Keep your head up, eyes forward, and match my pace exactly. If you see anypony deliberately turn their face toward you, try to remain as expressionless as you can. And most importantly, unless somepony changes course suddenly or readies their weapon, don’t react to them.”
Well, if nothing else, Warden seems to understand the modus operandi around here, I silently acknowledged. Half the drones who train to become infiltrators never manage to accurately assess enemy doctrine.
The difference in our stamina levels became evident as he led me through the heart of the city. My legs burned like I’d run a marathon at a gallop, and it wasn’t because my disguise was out of shape. I’d learned that lesson years ago. It was merely a matter of proportions—Warden was taller than I was.
As ponies we passed entered my vision, I’d started to piece together something somewhat odd about them.
Everypony traveled at precisely the same pace, regardless of age, build, or gender. Taller stallions strode forward at a casual canter while foals and smaller mares were forced into a perpetual trot. It was almost as if they were all clockwork toys whose keys were wound to the same tension and released together.
It figures I would run into absurdities on this mission, I lamented. Hopefully, Warden provides a suitable explanation for all this, whenever we get to wherever we’re going.
I tried to eliminate possibilities as we traveled, but convincing a city full of power-walking zombies that you too were a power-walking zombie takes more concentration than it sounds.
This would be a lot easier without Warden around. Giving myself a pair of glowing eyes would make me almost totally invisible to these guys.
I stored that revelation in the back of my mind for later use.
So these ponies have no emotional responses. They haven’t been tricked into believing their actions are reasonable, they are being used like mindless dolls, I theorized. That rules out pony magic. Some deranged unicorn might be able to enslave one or two of these weak-minded buffets, but a whole city? Doubtful.
Additionally, I continued my inner monologue, our magic may be green, but our eyes are blue. That rules out changeling drone replacements and very likely royal hypnosis. The queen or one of our princesses might be able to pull this off, had they already taken control of the Crystal Heart, but why would they send me here to retrieve it if they were planning to do so personally?
Lost as I was in my thoughts, I barely noticed when Warden suddenly stopped. We had arrived at a small schoolhouse nestled within a small cul-de-sac neighborhood off one of the side streets.
One quick scan of the area was all it took for me to understand why this was his refuge of choice. It was precisely the sort of place I’d have looked for in a hideout.
The school stood within a relatively sizeable grassy square, which made up the center of the little community. A dozen homes surrounded it in a horseshoe pattern with the only point of entry being the road we came in from.
The schoolhouse was a stout building with high-set frosted windows, designed to allow plenty of light in but to discourage foals from distracting themselves from their studies.
Smart. With no pegasi in the empire, what was meant to defeat foalish curiosity will now keep any wayward zombies from looking in.
There was only one main entrance that faced the majority of the small square of open terrain that obviously doubled as the school’s playground. It was a solid double door that locked into the floor and upper door frame.
I see he added a second layer of defense as well, I thought to myself as he opened the door and held it for me. These brackets have been mounted to the frame recently, no doubt so he could set a bar across the entrance at night or during an attack.
I noticed a smaller, secondary door on the side of the building, which seemed to be meant for the teacher’s use. I was actually impressed when I realized it was only made to look like it was sealed shut. After a moment of quick study, I saw that the exterior knob had been removed, and the planks of wood that covered the entrance were nailed to the door, but not the surrounding frame.
It’s a rather ingenious emergency exit. I may have underestimated this pony, Warden is by no means a common soldier.
As we stepped inside, I was immediately alerted to the presence of a second pony nearby. An audible gasp and the wave of panic that assaulted my senses put me on guard. I crouched, staring into the open classroom, awaiting my opponent.
“It’s okay,” he called softly into the building. “It’s just me, Miss Time. Oh, well, I’ve also brought a guest,” He spoke slowly and softly, as though consoling a filly.
I relaxed my stance once I felt the panic fade, to be replaced by relief and curiosity.
“Warden, is something wrong? Why are you back so early?” a young mare’s uncertain voice called out.
I began to map out the room as I scanned for the source of his conversation partner’s voice. Large, open design. All the desks and chairs had been tipped over and moved against the walls, then stacked up in some areas to provide cover during a battle, or more likely, hiding places for non-combatants.
“Nothing is wrong, dearheart, nothing at all. As I said, we simply have a guest,” he paused as he turned toward me. “This is Headway. I saved him on Mane Street. I had to cut the scavenging run a little short, but we should be fine for tonight. Come introduce yourself.”
My ears folded back, and my flesh crawled at the sound of crystal scraping against crystal. I watched with a grimace on my face as one of the overturned desks slid noisily away from the wall revealing a young mare as she stepped out into view.
“Headway, this is Double Time. She’s the daughter of one of my soldiers,” he said by way of introduction. “Her parents are… among the affected, so I have been looking after her.”
You didn’t have to be a changeling to know there was more to the story that he wasn’t sharing with everyone in the class. As before, a fresh wave of guilt and sorrow flowed out of him in a sickening torrent before he slammed the floodgates shut again.
“It’s the least I could do for Stalwart and Opal,” he finished, lapsing into a brief silence.
I took that opportunity to examine Double Time. Perhaps it was an infiltrator habit, but I always filled downtime with observation. You never know when you may require a new disguise, be forced to use your surroundings for a plan, or even make a hasty escape.
Double Time was young. She had her cutie mark—a pair of linked horseshoes—but it was evident that she was not yet full-grown. She had that gangly appearance adolescent ponies get while transitioning from filly to mare, which always seems to embarrass them. Her eyes, mane, and tail were all a striking shade of blue that reminded me of ice cubes while her coat was a flat pale green covered in patches of dirt.
Under different circumstances, I may have simply assumed she was an unusually active youth who liked getting dirty. Perhaps she played hoofball or was a budding archeologist. Given the situation in this city, however, it was far more likely that their stronghold simply lacked an adequate bathroom to wash up in, giving me some indication as to exactly how long they’d been in hiding.
I bowed my head, maintaining eye contact with her. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Time,” I greeted her, deliberately imitating the mode of address that Warden used for her. “I hope I didn’t startle you. Warden invited me inside but neglected to mention that he shared the space with one of the empire’s true beauties,” I followed up.
Blatant flattery often lowers a pony’s emotional defenses, making it easier to feed upon them.
Surprise. Embarrassment. Curiosity.
I could feel her wariness toward meeting a stranger in her home wane and be replaced by cautious optimism that my entering her life might be a good thing.
I could use that.
I had to suppress my own satisfaction to keep it from showing on my face. With how few emotionally-active ponies there seemed to be left in town, it was a significant windfall for me to locate what may be the only female teenager left.
At that age, it was incredibly easy to convince a pony that they loved you. And once that thought was planted, young mares would pour their love out at you as if they were a watering can. It took so little effort. They want to fall in love once they think they know what it is.
What kind of changeling would I be if I didn’t encourage and capitalize on such a gift?
“Um, he- hello, H- Headway,” she stammered, bashfully breaking eye contact and looking at the ground. “It’s nice to meet you. A- Are you going to be staying with us?” she asked as she lifted her head, shifting her gaze between Warden and me.
I sampled her pure emotions and almost sighed in contentment. She was nervous, but under that, I tasted a hint of hope and joy.
I have always been slightly more adept than the average drone at deciphering nuanced emotions. Love was child’s play, literally, as every nymph learns to feed on it from the moment they hatch. Hate, similarly, was also easy to identify as it left you with a foul aftertaste. These were the two outliers and the most potent, most natural emotions to detect as they were usually directed outward. The smaller feelings often remained internal, with only a bit leaking out for an empath—such as a changeling—to identify.
Teenagers, on the other hoof, wore their hearts on their sleeves, and that was entirely okay by me. She projected everything she felt with no reservations whatsoever. It often took ponies well into their adult years to learn a few of life’s bitter truths and close themselves off from the world.
Sure, Warden could have sustained me with camaraderie and perhaps a bit of sympathy if I devised a clever enough sob story to feed him about why I had been away for so long, but now I could keep my account simple. So long as I made myself useful to them, that adorable little green-furred buffet over there would keep me fed indefinitely.
Speaking of stories…
“I am not sure yet,” I answered her before turning my attention toward Warden. “I don’t fully understand what’s going on. That’s why we came back here, I think.”
Warden nodded as he stepped past me, selecting a seemingly random point on the floor to call his own as he sat down. The spear, I noted, never left his side, even while resting within the shelter of his makeshift fortress. He propped it against his shoulder and seemed to lean into it. I could tell it was a position he not only employed often but had come to consider comfortable.
“Yes, I promised to fill you in once we arrived. How much of our story do you already know? I am guessing you haven’t been home in years.”
I simply nodded my head at his statement, indicating that I knew nothing. Our scouts rarely entered pony settlements. Their job was to locate potential feeding grounds, make a note of any apparent defenses or influential residents, and provide a rough headcount.
In this case, our queen already knew about the existence of the Crystal Empire. It was no secret that the fourth tribe stood aloof from their cousins because of the artifact that shielded their city from the wendigos. As the earth, unicorn and pegasus nations cowered together in a cave, the crystal ponies lounged about in temperate comfort within the protective aura of the Crystal Heart, going about their daily lives… blissfully oblivious to their cousins’ suffering to the south.
That’s why I was sent here, after all. Time was of the essence, so the decision had been made to bypass the usual scouting phase of this mission. My queen was exceptionally wise to do so, as it turned out... I was specially trained to ration my love reserves, and even I consumed two full crystals to get here. Spending the resources on a scout would be wasteful this far from home when I was more than capable of handling things on my own.
Unlike the other tribes, these ponies were still full to the brim with love to take… at least they were before someling beat me to it.
“It’s been a little over a year since Sombra took over. He lived here and seemed like a typical colt growing up, but one day, he wandered back into town from the northern snowfields where he’d often play and marched on the castle. Nopony took him seriously until he turned into a cloud of black smoke and flew directly toward Princess Amore’s balcony.
“He took control of every guard who rushed to the defense of the castle; brave, true friends and loyal to the princess. I trained each and every one of them personally,” he commented bitterly before scoffing and continuing his story.
“He decided to use them against me. Miss Time’s father, Stalwart, and I were the last two free-thinking guards in the throne room. He sent our friends in waves against us, and it broke my heart every time a familiar face forced me to answer the question: ‘him or us’... I don’t know how many of my friends I cut down to protect the princess.”
He paused momentarily as he looked over at Double Time. When he resumed, he lowered his voice as if not wanting to share what came next with her.
“I saw Opal laying among the fallen at one point. I don’t know which of us the beast forced to face off against her, but I hope it was me. I couldn’t stand the thought of Stalwart having to strike down his own wife...”
He paused again to collect his thoughts before pressing on, returning his voice to that of normal conversation.
“In the end, he claimed Stalwart’s mind as well and turned him against me. I watched in horror as Sombra turned Princess Amore into a crystal statue, then shattered her right there in front of me. I couldn’t do anything to stop him as Miss Time’s father backed me into a corner. He laughed at my failure, not even bothering to take control of my mind before he started redecorating the throne room in those horrid black crystals of his.”
Double Time walked up to him as he spoke and wiggled her way under his free hoof, comforting him with a quick nuzzle and just being close to him. I caught a brief glimpse of his gratitude as it was directed toward her, and couldn’t stop myself from siphoning off some of the love she sent in return. It’s not like he really needed it anyway.
“And so, bloodied and bruised, armor in tatters, I limped out of the castle unopposed. For a while, there were pockets of resistance, and I did what I could to organize them, but all it took was a single moment of eye contact with Sombra to claim somepony as his own.”
Well, that at least is useful information. Eye contact is required for him to establish mind control, much like a cockatrice’s petrification. At least now I knew how to defend myself should I encounter him.
“Entire neighborhoods fell in a single afternoon,” Warden had continued, “Within a month, the only pony I was able to keep safe was Miss Time here, and only because I don’t think he knows about her yet. I think the maniac has deliberately left me alone to witness my failure every time I open my eyes. It’s almost like he feeds on my sorrow. I know. Silly, right?”
And there it was; the difference between us.
He delights in fear and misery, I thought to myself, putting a few pieces of the puzzle together. Our methods are diametrically opposed and cannot coexist. He revels in negativity, whereas I have to feed on positive emotions.
Thankfully, changelings are nothing if not adaptable. He’s stolen a march on me, which puts me at a disadvantage, but at least I have these two mobile meals at my disposal. Yesterday’s prey can be tomorrow’s allies of convenience. I can still complete my mission, even if it means helping them achieve theirs.
“I understand how things stand now,” I said, addressing my inner thoughts rather than answering Warden’s rhetorical question. “The tyrant has to be stopped. These ponies need to be set free—” —if I am going to feed on them, I finished the sentence in my head.
“That’s what I like to hear. Okay then, let’s get started.”
