Of all the humans who might have lived in Equestria, why did it have to be Megan Williams?

That’s how she described herself—‘human’. She looked like one of Discord’s creatures, with claws like a dragon and a pony’s mane that came down to her hind. Her spine curved like the letter ‘s’ and she always walked upright, with perfect head balance, as a draconequus would.

She was spry and intelligent as any pony, but not good for working. Her fingers imbued her with a cunning nature. Once, Big Macintosh led a small team into the valley where she lived, to build her a suitable shelter. She attacked the work of moving and erecting timber with enthusiasm, but fatigued even more quickly than an elder from Ponyville. Instead, she spent the afternoon braiding the manes and tails of the workers, which she explained would allow them to sweat in the afternoon breeze without their hair tangling and clinging onto their sides. When the day was finished, and the stallions returned home, their wives were at first amused by, and then became jealous of, their designs; and it soon was fashionable for every colt to style himself like a so-called ‘Dutch Lady’ to impress his beloved.

They began to call her ‘Dutch Lady’ because it was easier to pronounce. They believed she was a relative of Discord, and began to invent stories about other ‘humans’, descended from his line—vaunted kings who were deranged and debile, land workers who invented philosophy to accomplish their work as the fields laid fallow.

Either of these would have been welcome as a substitute for Dutch Lady, who, at length, took a stronger interest in pony things than in those human. She decided which ponies were the swiftest, which were the strongest, and which she perceived to be the wisest, with gifts and craftwork she made from all of the things she could collect with her hands.

She also decided that there were certain problems which needed a human perspective. The ‘feedbag’ had been one of them, to reduce the amount of mess and wastage she noticed in kitchens belonging to her pony neighbors. Not long after, loud popping explosions began to wake the township from its sleep during her visits. She had acquired combustible pellets from some other place. She combined them with a slingshot to scare away timber wolves and other intruders that prowled at night.

This invention was the worst of all. It was a symbol of her encroaching territoriality; and the psychological effect was that of Girl Who Cried Wolf, instilling in foals and their susceptible guardians a fear of imminent physical danger they hadn’t known before. But Dutch Lady insisted on its usefulness in making the area safe at night.

Once the saga of the midnight gunshots had begun, the town decided it was time to keep Dutch Lady out of Ponyville. To do this they had to be as clever as her. After a long discussion, a local artificer was put in charge of designing a looking glass mirror with two simple functions. First, it could change the image of the creature looking into it—but of course, only their reflection, nothing in their physical form. Second, it could translate their philosophy to the language of any other creature.

At first, Dutch Lady saw no use in such a device. But the ponies explained to her that what she had been lacking in her happiness and in her knowledge was that these things, hitherto, could not be operated by the fingers; but now a new discovery had been made, thanks to her appearance, which would make the best use of her hands—for the only way the mirror would work was through the kind of manipulative touch of which she alone was capable.

Slowly, Dutch Lady’s visits to Ponyville became less frequent. As the councilors had predicted, their oppressor had become enamored of the new magic, and less interested in the mundane affairs of ponies; she did not use the device for traveling and meeting new creatures, however, but in the creation of a thousand faces, and a thousand philosophies for each one, in a possessed search for herself in the reflection of the mirror. At last, a dispatch from Ponyville was sent to her—each week, a cart to Dream Valley, bearing cherries, rhubarb, and licorice—so that, at least, she wouldn’t completely perish of hunger.