The evening air at the Little Red Pony Academy was thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant hum of Riverport’s bustling traffic. Ethan Gray sat on a small wooden stool, watching as Blanche adjusted the new socks he had bought for her. He had picked them out earlier that afternoon, choosing a high-stretch cotton blend that promised durability—a necessity for a child as active as her. They fit her perfectly, the elastic hugging her small ankles without leaving a mark.
“Alright, now that the new ones are on, let’s get rid of those,” Ethan said, pointing toward the pair she had just peeled off. They were grayed with age, and a gaping hole at the toe looked like a hungry mouth.
Blanche’s eyes widened, and she snatched the old socks off the floor with the speed of a startled cat. She
