An earth pony mare was sprawled on the floor in the middle of the room. Her throat had been sliced so deeply it looked like her head was poised to come off entirely. Blood glistened red in the lamplight, contrasting starkly with her slate gray coat and long, cold blue mane as it pooled around her body on the packed-in earth. Orange eyes stared blankly at the wall. The pony’s mouth was slightly open, as if in surprise. Her body, so strongly built, looked oddly taut from rigor mortis. One of her hooves was still bound in bloodstained climbing wrappings. Bloody hoofprints were tracked around the room.