…Just as he finished, Clyde heard hoofsteps in the sand behind him. He buried his grin into his bowl, lapping up the remains.

Sakes alive. Corn and leek soup never tasted so sweet.

“Nice of you to join me,” Clyde said as he stared at the waves. “Hope you—”

A photo appeared before him, held up by Sombra’s hoof. It depicted the black stallion himself, laying back against the blanket with the ducks on it, holding the camera above him with both hooves. He had his head turned just so, lip curled in a snarl, one fang shining against the glint of a purple light from somewhere. Fierce and deadly, and no mistake.

Clyde swallowed. “Nice shot,” he said.

“I thought so.”