She didn’t move. “I don’t like what you’re doing to Motherlode,” she said. “None of the ponies do. I think you might like living here better if you were a little more agreeable.” She watched him closely, particularly all those little muscles on his face. When he stiffened, she knew what would happen next. “Now, Forerunner.” She didn’t have to tell him what she meant—there were a dozen cameras in here.