“What you smell is her fear,” Handy said, dropping his noble airs. That quickly got peoples’ attention. “And likely this.” He reached below his robe and pulled out the pendant he wore about his neck. He had forgotten that dogs had a really good sense of smell, but he was rather alarmed they could smell changeling on him despite having thoroughly washed. Perhaps there was pod gunk in his pores. “Tell me, dog, do you know why the Queen and her changelings refer to me as Handy the Heartless?” The inn had gone quiet. The foal at his feet was staring up at him, unsure of whether or not he should still be there. He looked down at the foal and gave him a reassuring smile. He walked down the centre of the bar floor towards the door. Ponies quickly got out of his way.