The oldest pony she had ever seen, with a green coat and a bone-white mane tied up in a bun was giving her a steady and remarkably sharp-eyed look, belying her somewhat sleepy appearance.  The old mare gave her a kindly smile, her entire face creasing up into a series of laugh lines and Zecora gave her a deep bow of her head. This was clearly the family matriarch and deserving of as much respect as she could give.