Two stalls over, Regina was giving Grace a good curry to help shed out her winter coat. An unusual sound, a flicker of the lights, and a surge of something not not magic, but not really magic either, and then she heard rustling in one of the stalls that had been empty when she came in.

Grace's nostrils flared and her tail swished unhappily. The set of her ears told Regina it wasn't coincidental. She gave the mare's shoulder a pat, unclipped the lead from her headstall and slipped out, shutting the stall door behind her.

She had made it nearly to the other stall when she saw a woman speaking to a cat that she seemed to think was a goose. Her gaze narrowed slightly, but there was only a vaguely maternal mirth in her voice when she asked, "Just how hard did you hit your head when you fell?"