“Oh my gosh.” She turned her head up the stairs. “Octavia, gotta go. There’s leftovers in the kitchen, if you’re hungry. Spike, stay inside, where it’s safe. I don’t want you getting underhoof.” Suddenly businesslike, she levitated over her saddlebags, cinching them tightly around her girth. An ornate book was grabbed with her telekinesis, and she started to move towards the door, before Soarin interrupted her.