PONY FLINCHED AS THE golden morning light penetrated the trees above and danced across her large black eyes. The fragrant scent of dew on the grass had vanished from the air as the summer heat began to rise. Pony maintained her moor lion form as she entered the village. The Woodland Elves were used to her presence now. Only her closest friends knew she was a changeling, not a moor lion and she was determined to keep it that way. Moving quickly to Tirana’s cabin, she scratched on the front door and issued a low growl announcing her presence. A tall, lithe Elf with the Woodland Elf characteristic long, blue-black hair answered the door. Tirana’s dark green eyes smiled at Pony, who stood face to face with her in the doorway. “Come in my friend,” She said softly stepping aside for Pony to ente
