The ponies in their immediate line of sight were still lying down, groaning. The Mayor was speaking to a pony with the same slate-gray color as the rocks in the hills, who bore the image of a round shield on his flanks. The gray pony was nodding as he heard the words.<br/><br/>"Winter's gonna be bad Mayor. If'n they live that long. Gonna be hard to keep this quiet. How are we going to sneak these sods back into town without the ponyfolk runnin' wild? Or Her Highness seeing it?"<br/><br/>"I know, I know! Err...say it's...say it's a sickness!" He was pacing nervously. "And that's why we had to get rid of the silo. That ought to do it. And forbid anyone from coming anywhere near here. I'll...uh....hmm. You stay here Silver Shield, keep an eye on the place. I'll go and see about getting a cockatrice or a parasprite out here. Say there was an infestation. Yeah, that ought to do it. And just pray to Celestia nothing worse happens."