I smile a bit at hearing the complaints about the other workers, helping to wash away the horribly predictable plot point in the book. Honestly, the way some of these mares write, one would think they’ve never met a stallion in their lives. Let alone a real stallion, for that matter. Regardless, I’m careful to watch my time, and leave the library at the right moment, preempting the dinner bell. I attempt to enjoy tonight’s dinner of oat gruel before the curfew bell rings next. And once I’m shown to my entirely different cell, I take twenty minutes to stretch and decompress before flopping onto the uncomfortable and dirty cot for the night.