They looked like ponies. They were hanging by a sling beneath vast gliding wing craft. A tiny sky-trader steered the craft above while the ponies writhed and thrashed in fear. Tab tried to reach them with her mind, to calm them, to let them know it would soon be over, but her head thumped with pain, and instead she held her hands to her cheeks, waited and watched. Her chest started to sting and she realised she had forgotten to breathe. The first wing craft coasted lower and lower over the stretch of Barrenlands close to the City Gate, until the equen's hooves nearly touched the ground, pedalling in anticipation. The vision was comical and several of the spectators laughed. Then the equen tripped. It somersaulted once, twice, and then slid along the dirt on its side. ‘Ooh!!’ the crowd gasped as one. It lay still for a second. Tab's hands balled into fists in dread, and then the equen stood up and shook itself. Dust fell from its hide. ‘Ah!’ the crowd sighed in unison and some of the onlookers clapped.
