“You couldn’t do either for some reason, yet you needed to feed. You must have been starving, so that left me. The only safe, reliable option left to you. Isn’t that right, ‘Crimson’?” The crate rocked as the changeling ignored the pain in her legs, leapt up, and placed her forehooves on the edge of the crate, snarling at the stallion who turned around, his smile fading.