It was a dark and stormy night, which Corona took as a personal insult. Angrily she shook a hoof at the sky as rain hissed, evaporated as it struck her fiery mane. She swore that when she returned to her rightful place her beloved sun would never be overcome by the darkness in this way and that the weather was always to her liking. The storm didn’t seem to care, it fell equally on the powerful and the weak. Stymied, the solar tyrant turned and stomped back into her lair grumbling her complaints against the world.