‘Fleetfoot!’ said Slipstar, smiling as he bumped his friend’s hooves. She beamed at him.
‘Good to see you made it! The derby’s nothing without its celebrity guests, or so they tell me. Listen, I can’t speak for too long; I need to give my team the talk, but quick – tell me your plans. We could meet up for a cuppa if you’re free!’
‘I’m staying at a hotel not far from the castle,’ said Slipstar. ‘You can call on me any time you like, and I’ll boil the kettle. Or we could go to a café, a restaurant. I’m flexible.’
‘We could sit in Observation! We’ve such a great view!’
Slipstar smiled. ‘Not concocting another of your tall tales for my sake, are you?’
Fleetfoot laughed and said innocently, ‘Wouldn’t dream of it!’
‘You know,’ said Slipstar, ‘I have one for you. A riddle. Very brief. Would you like to hear it before you go?’
Fleetfoot checked her watch. ‘OK, go on, then. A riddle for me? I’m curious!’
‘Blaze dies in Canterlot, and Equestria mourns. Sting dies at sea, with whose death Equestria is far happier. Why?’
‘So, that’s how it feels,’ said Fleetfoot, nonplussed, running a hoof through her mane. ‘Honestly? I haven’t a clue.’
Why?
Blaze and Sting were hurricanes.