Some kind of insectoid ponies? Dive Bomb made a few notes on the pad, next to a series of sketches of an armored demon with a jagged horn. For half an hour's worth of attack, you'd expect at least some kind of photo to turn up, some kind of study. It had to be some strange wonder of fortune that all the changelings stuck inside the walls of the city weren't trapped by the expanding sphere. Instead, all you got were piecemeal accounts and tabloid pieces, boasting that Prince Blueblood was secretly the son of Luna and the changeling Prime Minister.

He sighed as he examined the sketches before turning to show it to the mare. "How would you describe a changeling? Which of these sketches comes closest?"