She stomped on one of Circe’s legs, once, twice, thrice. It snapped the second time. Circe wailed and curled into a ball. Bitterroot didn’t feel a single pang of pity, not after what she’d done to… Celestia knew how many ponies. “Try running away,” Bitterroot snarled through clenched teeth, “and I will catch up to you and I will break your neck. Understand?”