You stop halfway to the shelf in question, then move to join her on the tiny balcony. There’s barely enough room for both of you to stand on it. She nods her head towards one side of the city. “Down there. Grey stallion, on the otherwise empty street.” It takes you some time to find the individual in question, but when you do, you nod. ”He is a good husband, wise father, and is clothed with strength and dignity. His herd’s business has fallen on hard times, so he takes to the streets in search of odd jobs, and utters no complaint. He wants nothing more than to look after his foals, but here he is.”