‘So was she…,’ Handy realised, recalling the bat mare on the train when he had been interrogated. She hadn’t seemed bothered by the sunlight. The nervousness returned. He didn’t… feel any compulsion. There was no need to feed, and he certainly didn’t look at his compatriots as a piece of meat. Although… what did he know? Those ponies were vampires and didn’t seem to obey the rules the folklore and popular fiction he knew about vampires seemed to indicate. How could he be sure?