Queen Chrysalis invaded the pony-folk only because her Swarm were not effective enough gatherers – not like us. We are like the pony-folk's honeybees, only honey is not what you'll find in our waxen cells.

I am Eq. My name only has one vowel and one consonant because I am young and unimportant. But I have a story.

My Colony lives on; it breathes and thrives. Gatherers deliver pure love to those who turn it into something easier to store by giving it physical form. Builders work the wax into new structures in place of weakened ones, the old Queen transfers her wisdom to the larva that forms in a chosen egg we prepare. Thus, my Colony lives on.

I will not be Queen, but I am better than the drones who do nothing because their job as males justifies it. I am learning. Now I deliver love-nectar to larvae and lend the egg-cells my body heat, but soon I might learn to make wax and build, or learn to fight and guard the Hive entrance. I might learn the way to take the sugarcane-like stalks from outside and fuse it with raw love.

I might learn how to be anything and fly to the pony-land.