"Is that where you're from?" Abigail asked, cleaning and cutting the strawberries. "A place called Equestria?" She had arrived on the island after the door there and knew very little about it.
"Marks aren't cute." She said with a harsher tone than she had intended, thinking of the way her father had marked her. She took a deep breath as she put the strawberries in a pan with butter and brown sugar. When she spoke again, her tone was friendly. "You're a pony then? Or were a pony?"
"I've only met one another Abigail on the island. I've got a lot more people to meet if I'll make to the thousands." Abigail commented, though she was certain that her father's reasons for choosing her name were unique. And almost as certain that her lifetime wouldn't be particularly long. She had already lived longer than she was meant to.