Mini Mysteries

by Acologic

The Stolen Uniform

As was his custom during the weeks before Hearth’s Warming, Slipstar dropped in on his old friend, and well-liked Wonderbolt, Fleetfoot; as was hers, the latter had, of course, prepared the usual game of ‘get him to look stupid in front of the lads’. A pot of tea brewing on the table, mugs in hooves, Fleetfoot grinned and began, beckoning in the assembled:

‘I’ll tell you a strange thing,’ she said. ‘Just last week this happened, and I’m not too happy about it. Spitfire gave me hell, but there it is.

‘It was one of those open days, you see. You know, when all the kiddies come up, the budding wannabes, that sort of thing. We showed them around as usual and put them through a couple of drills. I was busting the cirrus clouds with a group of them, and it was all well and good until one little filly decided she’d have herself a nosey about the gale equipment – didn’t turn anything on, thank goodness, but she got stuck behind the heavy machinery, and I spent a good twenty minutes pulling her out.

‘Well, of course, by the time she was free, the clouds we’d been trying to shift weren’t dealt with and we got soaked in the deluge. I brought the snivelling lot into the mess hall for some cocoa, which cheered them up. Dash took over, but my uniform was filthy, covered in oil from the breeze enforcer and heavy with rain.’

She paused to glance at Slipstar, who smiled automatically and nodded for her to continue.

‘I reached the laundry, stripped off, threw the mess into the drum and took a shower. As I was walking back, wrapped up in my towel, I heard a noise somewhere behind me – something moving fast.’

‘Oh?’ said Rapidfire, raising a brow.

‘I know!’ Fleetfoot sipped her tea, her bright eyes eager. ‘I turned and had a look – no one there. And back in the laundry, I opened the drum door and found it empty as a cookie jar! Can you believe it?’

The Wonderbolts around her winced, bearing smiles of sympathy.

‘And we all know how Spitfire is when it comes to your uniform. “Missing” doesn’t even constitute an excuse. She shouted me to pieces and had me tidy the mess hall once the juniors were leaving. But I’ll say this – one or two of the rascals had a guilty look about them when I started mopping, and I don’t mean that as normal. They knew something – I only figured this after the fact. That sound I heard – you don’t think one of them walked away with my uniform, do you?’

With practised speed, all eyes flicked to Slipstar. He finished his tea and nodded thoughtfully.

‘As captivating a tall tale as any, my dear Fleetfoot, but invalidated by one embarrassing error.’

What was Fleetfoot’s blunder?

Slipstar realised very early on that, while trying to feed him a phoney case, Fleetfoot made an elementary mistake. Cirrus clouds cannot produce anything remotely close to a deluge, a fact which any smart-aleck Wonderbolt should be ashamed to forget.