Yona found herself stepping through a shimmering portal at the School of Friendship, only to emerge in a strange and unfamiliar land. Around her stretched an endless green plain dotted with tiny cities that barely reached the height of her enormous hooves. At first, she barely noticed anything unusual, but as she looked down, she froze in shock. Her sturdy yak horns were gone, replaced by the soft contours of a pony’s head, and her cloven hooves had transformed into rounded pony hooves. Yet the strangest realization came when she saw the world beneath her—it wasn’t just small; she was impossibly, unfathomably large. Her massive body towered over the tiny cities, casting shadows so vast they swallowed entire neighborhoods.

Fear gripped her. She didn’t understand what had happened or why, but she knew that even the slightest movement could have catastrophic consequences. Every part of her body felt enormous and unwieldy. Even as she tried to remain still, her very breathing sent faint gusts of wind that made fragile towers sway. Her first instinct was to leave the area entirely, to put as much distance as possible between herself and these delicate, fragile cities, but even that posed a problem. How could she move without accidentally stepping on something—or worse, someone?

Yona decided to try. She lifted a hoof, massive and heavy, carefully and deliberately. But the moment she began to lower it, the ground beneath trembled, and she stopped mid-motion. That wouldn’t work. It wasn’t enough to tread lightly; she realized she had to move with an almost excruciating slowness. Her hoof hung in the air for what felt like minutes as she adjusted her weight and gently lowered it, inch by inch. Finally, it touched the ground. To her relief, the earth remained still—no tremors, no cracks, no destruction. The effort, however, was enormous. Every step took all of her concentration, requiring her to balance her strength and her speed in perfect harmony.

The cities around her remained in a state of panic. Tiny figures scattered like ants, and though Yona tried to call out to reassure them, her voice rumbled like distant thunder. She clamped her mouth shut, realizing even her words could cause alarm. Slowly, she began her trek away from the cities, each step carefully measured and painstakingly slow. The minutes stretched into hours as she crossed the plain, the journey that would have taken a normal pony moments becoming a test of endurance and patience. Despite her caution, her sheer presence loomed like a walking mountain, and she couldn’t shake the growing sense of loneliness and isolation.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Yona reached a vast, empty expanse of grassland far from the cities. She stood still for a moment, her towering form casting a shadow that seemed endless, and let out a deep sigh. She was safe here—for now—but the emptiness of the plain only magnified her feelings of helplessness. What could she do in this world, where even her most careful movements were a threat?