“I hope that, um, he isn't planning to share his lunch with everypony,” she said. “He isn't, is he?” Her nostrils flared as she took in the strange scents of the new embassy. Any one of them might be the decaying corpse of an innocent animal. “Where does he get his . . . you know?” She'd met Applejack's tenants; it couldn't be one of them, could it? She'd heard that back in the olden days, griffons ate cows and sheep and pigs and maybe even ponies when they could catch them, and of course there were the monsters of the Everfree to consider, but as long as she stayed out of the forest she'd be safe—they couldn't come into town, probably. Hopefully.