The Bat could hear her prey pleading within her maw, but such pleas only added to her pleasure. Finally, her catch began to lose its flavor. The next step was obvious as, after a moment of hesitation, she leaned her head back and swallowed. Pressing a hand to her neck, she savored the feeling of live prey entering her throat, a sensation that was totally new to her, but immensely satisfying none the less. She heard the desperate cries from her meal, muffled by the walls of flesh that separated them, heightening her pleasure even more. She was a sleek, powerful predator, and the squirming pony in her throat was nothing more than prey for her to dominate, to consume. No further thought towards the “individuality” of her prey was needed. It was nothing more than food now, destined to be devoured, digested, broken down into fuel for her next hunt. And there would be a next hunt. Whatever she needed to to do to have more prey like this one, she would do it, for she now had something even more delicious than apples on which to feast. All she need do is claim her prize for good with one… last… swallow.