One of the other pony girls can read. She told me something today… and now I can’t unthink it. She said our handler is so clueless he misspelled the town’s name on the stable sign.

Right there. Huge letters. Wrong. (And now every trader, every buyer, every visitor who walks past sees it.) I shouldn’t laugh. I shouldn’t. But oh my god… what am I supposed to do with this information?

I’m chained under a man who can’t even spell the name of the place he keeps us in …please don’t tell him I said that. It’s hard to tell, after an auction, whether I ended up with a good master or a bad one.

What confuses me is how much he talks. My previous master only used commands - short, sharp, simple. But this man… this stranger whose name I don’t even know yet… he explains everything.

- What time I’ll be taken out of the cage.
- When I’ll get water.
- When I’m allowed to relieve myself.
- How often I’ll be washed and brushed.

All of it, laid out like stable rules I’m supposed to remember.

And then he said the part that made my stomach twist a little: full-body bathing only once or twice a week. Daily cleaning only for my mouth and the places that must stay clean. Everything else… once a week.

I nodded like I understood. But inside, all I could think was: Oh no. What have I gotten myself into?