By now there was only one left. The final pony, antsy with fear, was dashing back and forth in the street like a squirrel stuck in traffic. “You there, don’t run off. I just want to talk. King, uh, Sombrero commands you,” I ordered using the name they called me, but once the pony got an eyeful of me it disappeared. It was instantaneous. One second it was there, and then I heard an explosive ping like the sound of a ricochet, and suddenly it was gone. I didn’t even see what direction it went. All that was left was a slowly dissipating silhouette of dust where it was standing. 