For the first time since she left the train, Twilight’s hooves embraced the ground. She landed gently, but not without haste either. She retracted her wings and, not used to flying for this long, recalibrated her balance. From the main road, she made a quick visual survey of the alleyway where the runner had taken refuge. Oddly, she couldn’t find anypony there. All she could see was an unhygienic mix of moldy boxes, damaged barrels, overflowing trash cans, and weeds growing through the cracks in the hardened mud. Yet, the grotty corridor didn’t lead anywhere: It ended on a tall picket fence. An obstacle that, at its height, wouldn’t have allowed any pony to climb, let alone jump over.