A small bell rang in the shop of Heat Source’s forge. She put down the tongs she had been holding in her mouth and wiped the sweat from her brow, wiping her hooves on her heat-resistant apron. She was a unicorn but tried her best to minimise the use of her magic. The faded green pony with white hair emerged from the back, as Handy had his senses assaulted by the acrid smell and the intolerable heat of the forge.