All around you nothing but a grey desolate moonscape. The surface of the moon is beautiful but certainly inhospitable. Unmoving sea of dust and boulders left in their place for centuries, the only oddity a track of hoofprints, leading to a nearby crater. And there, a mare is sitting. Her fur is black as the night itself - if it wasn´t a little dusty of course. Her mane was aetherial, flowing through the air even in the windless space. "Speak, foal. I feel your presence."