>"I w-won't sleep until you do, sir."
>The pony's tired eyes blinked at you, two huge green rings shimmering in your peripheral vision under the illumination of your reading light.
>Well, it's just a little lamp over your bed you call a reading light.
>You actually have no idea what it's for.
>Are ponies afraid of the dark?
>You glance at the guard standing near the door.
>Something tells you that they are.
>This is the fifth damn time she's reminded you of her situation.
>Mixed thoughts flow into your head.
>You are annoyed.
>But you don't want to upset this horse.
"Yes, I know, I know."
>Your stare moves back to the book, followed by a sigh from the opposite end of the room.
>Line after line, paragraph after paragraph…
>The sense of time slowly waddles away.
>This is quite interesting, actually.
>You'd never think that ponies would be such great writers.
>The alliterations and rhythms captivate your mind one after another, punching their way through the concrete barricade that is your disbelief in magical talking equines.
>Yet, here you are, lying in the softest bed you've ever touched, reading a great book, and listening to a whiny guard horse.
>You imagine her speech sounding like a horse from Earth.
>You chuckle to yourself, softly at first, and soon laugh out loud in your normal voice.
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