She looked up, glancing through the ruined glass panel Sharpclaw had smashed. She could barely see the top of the mane of the pony florist from where he cowered behind the counter. Also, the bowls and pots of stupendously colourful flowers might have something to do with it. She actually had to blink her eyes several times, so jarring was the sheer variety of colour on display within this one little store in comparison to the near uniform grey and ashen brown of the town within which it resided.