Parcly Taxel: There is a human skier from the southern Alps I love more than anypony else, a fragile flower that wandered in itself for years until its spectacular blooming – Tina Maze. I teleported there and sat on a small random snow bump, wondering about what made her a sheer beauty: her name, her birthplace or what?

One hour later my hindlegs were snowed in and I was dreaming mountains, everything from solid hues to animal markings. A fast splatter brought me back; ahead lay an earth pony mare in the colours and symbols I had dreamt. She was speaking incomprehensible (to me) Slovene but the smile was unmistakable. “Tina?” I whispered, at which she hugged me… with delicate hooves.