"It's not poisoned," Catra offers. "Tastes awful, though."

"Ponyta!" something carols from the base of the tree, out of sight behind the fence. The second voice is also feminine, but younger by far than Catra's. It sounds like it agrees with her assessment of the toothpaste.

"It's probably meant for the crazy lady's kid," she continues, ignoring the pokemon's interjection. "And so whoever did this can track us."