Chapter 2A*Girl

You decide answering the door is too complicated for the time being, and resume the task at hand. Later on, you go outside to see a soggy, sopping wet cardboard box on your doorstep. You sigh, then lift it up, grunting softly as you realize how heavy it is. You drag it in, ignoring the drips of rainwater it leaves on your rug, and set it on the table in the kitchen. You peel the cardboard open, then lift the object out.

"A... a pony?" you cry, dropping it in shock. You run to wash your hands, then pull on gloves and lift it out again. "Luna?" you exclaim with joy, until you realize how limp the foal is. It lets out a strangled whimper, then you feel what little warmth it had vanish.

Always answer the door. Unless it's a serial killer or a telemarketer.