To my glorious and inquisitive Princess Celestia, in the 562nd YR, my 6,743rd letter
What a strange tale I must relate of the Hound of the Buckervilles. On behalf of an associate, I was visiting the home of Lewis Carrot, a writer of some promise, whose fanciful tales I find most inspiring as do many young colts and mares. I had no inkling that we would be pressed into service to search for a mysterious canine specter.
Lewis and I, arrive at the Buckervilles manor on the moor, in response to a local call for help. The staff and household reported a vicious creature, whose bark terrified all concerned. Joining with others we began a methodical search, the beast footprints left in the soft earth lead us to the moor, a dreary bog of treacherous puddles and dangerous sinkholes. Unfortunately we were forced to give up the search that day as the weather turned horrid and visibility was reduced to mere leg length.
Lewis returned to his home, but the Buckervilles were receiving guests and welcome me. I decided to stay and meet some of the others there, caution giving way to curiosity. The manor had plenty of room, and amidst the guests, I could remain somewhat incognito, but the staff did notice me and presumed it my place to help ‘the doctor’ as they described him. This doctor is supposedly the assistant of the famous Trottenham investigator Sherlock Hooves. At once, my suspicions were aroused since; I knew Mr. Hooves and had not met this doctor before. Yet, I held my peace, keep my advantage and continued with my inquiries. It seems that the Buckervilles had requested Mr. Hooves to assist with this mysterious hound, but Hooves regretted he had other pressing interests elsewhere, so he had sent the doctor to act as his proxy.
Despite my misgivings I found the doctor most congenial, surprisingly thorough and inquisitive. We decided to keep watch together that evening and discovered something unusual. Strange lights appeared on the moor and were answered with a lit candle in one of the upper staff rooms. Upon questioning the staff, one fearfully admitted that she would follow the lights to her brother, recently escaped from prison. It was their special signal to check if it was safe for her to bring him leftover foods and clothing from the manor’s stock. The doctor and I decided that we needed to verify the maid’s story, so we escorted her out to the moor to meet her brother.
It was then that the creature attacked. It trampled the doctor into the soft earth and went for the maid. I used my size to block the creature, and gave it a taste of my reptilian stare. It wisely and thankfully decided not to test my strength, and ran off into the mists. After dusting ourselves off, we continue to meet up with the maid’s brother. Upon seeing the three of us, he panic and tried to gallop off, but Sherlock Hooves was waiting for him (Hooves had been secretly walking the moors as part of his investigation). We convince this escapee to return to prison and stop putting his sister’s position and life in jeopardy.
I returned the maid to the manor, without explanation and a wink. Sherlock and the doctor continued their search of the moor. I look forward to reporting their exploits and firm inquisitions of Mr. Hooves in my next letter. I have confidence that Mr. Hooves is up to the task. With all generosity, kindness, loyalty, trustworthiness, and humor, Sum-po-neigh Knot Yew.