A pony stood beside her in the street, watching her with amusement. Somehow, he didn’t revolt her as every pony she had ever seen before did. Particularly her own reflection. He didn’t speak any language she knew, yet that didn’t seem to matter. The words made sense even if the sounds didn’t. “From the <Above/Outside/Slow>? Good to have a <Visitor/Immigrant/Newcomer>. We thought everyone was <Dead/Terminated/Non-functional>.”