Of Hooves and History

Sherlock and Cinnamon Rolls

Aside from using their horns in fearless defense, the second trait I noticed with unicorns was their love of freshly brewed tea – and strong tea at that! It felt like a botched Starbucks order on my tongue, but a few extra sugar cubes did the trick.

The atmosphere in the elderly pony's – who I got to know as Alphabittle – tea house was also strong. I could feel the tension, shame, and agony amongst the dozen or so unicorns present as Sunny let 'em have it.

"What has happened to you all? Have you forgotten everything I taught Izzy? We are supposed to learn and extend hooves of understanding and love to one another! No one, pony or not, deserves to be atta –"

"Enough, Sunny," I ordered, giving her the same I-mean-it face my dad gave me when child me was incensed. Putting a comforting arm around Izzy, I turned to address the other ponies.

"I can only presume that you all were alerted to my impending presence, and that I was some sort of big, dangerous threat. The real question is, who or what alerted you?"

Once again, the night air fell silent, devoid of voices. I could tell many of them were already sleepy, but I wasn't letting anypony go until answers and a common peaceful ground were collectively established. Two full minutes passed before a thick-eyelashed pony from the back spoke up.

"Shootie." I cocked an eyebrow at her, and she paused for a moment before elaborating.

"An earth pony. He came to us with a warning about the arrival of a large foreign creature that would seek to trick and steal from us."

I sputtered a muffled laugh. "And you believed a skinflint mare's tale like that?!"

Alphabittle sighed sadly. "Yes, we did. He... just sounded so sure, so definite."

I swallowed back any inclination to berate them and put on my detective hat.

"What did he wear?"

"A short cloak. You could just about peek at his cutie mark."

"What did he look like?"

"V-shaped bangs, like a swept-back mane pulled forward. Tail wavy, kinda like your hair. Bluish-beige in color."

"How long was the mane?"

"Just stopped above the shoulder."

"Anything else?"

"Hoof feathering was the same as body color – that's very rare among all ponies," Izzy added, finally finding her voice again. "A dull reddish-black color."

After asking a few more questions, it became apparent that unicorns were not familiar with the tactics of manipulation.

"You all look tired, but bear with me for a few more minutes," I announced, "because this is very important. At a younger age, I lost things that were dear to me. A good number of potential friends, savings of money, and valuable items. How? I did not understand how to read people, and they took advantage of that in evil ways. For the sake of emphasis and time, I'll give just one example – what just occurred here. Tell me, how would you verify if what Shootie said is true?"

Izzy eagerly opened her mouth, but I pushed her jaw up shut. I felt there was much more to her mental abilities I could learn about but refused to let it sabotage the moment.

"I would ask him where he obtained the sources of information," said one unicorn.

"I would challenge his claims."

"I would go out and ask around if anyone else knew about what Shootie spoke about – and also if he had already spoken to them before I did."

I let out three short claps. "Bravo. Last question: where is Shootie now?"