"They were probably raised to obey," Catra replies, rolling one shoulder in a shrug, as though raising sapient creatures as subservient combatants is completely normal.

Which, in the Horde, it absolutely is.

Anything more she might say on the matter, however, is derailed by the flash of light and sudden appearance of a floating sword. She makes a strangled noise somewhere between a yelp and a snarl, and springs backwards, posture unmistakably a fighting crouch. There's a clatter of hooves on the other side of the fence as her ponyta rights herself in preparation to come to her trainer's defense.

"What is that?"

Weird creatures, she was expecting. Apparently-enchanted weapons? Not so much.