While me and the other chosen zebras are herded towards a waiting pair of honourguards at the camp, I take a moment to look over those other unfortunates I’ll be forced to spend time around. Absolutely none of them were noteworthy, not even the one mare that had been dragged along. In fact, I look to be the only hybrid in the group. Two of the stallions, one plains and the other imperial, were having a hard time keeping their eyes off of the plains mare, who looked to be quietly enjoying the influx of male attention. The third stallion was a mountain zebra, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of me. That had better not become a problem. This is far from the time or place.