So Olivia went with her, around the dark outline of the farmhouse. Between the healthy fruit trees, always overflowing and ready to harvest. “The ponies of Equestria call me the Pale Mare,” she said after a time, when they had gone some distance from the gathering. “They imagine that I’m the one who comes for their souls. I’m waiting until the end, to lead them back safely to return to their families. Some of them imagine I’m a judge, to weigh the actions they took in life, and reward or punish what they have done.”