Bitterroot twitched and whirled around. A unicorn had somehow snuck onto the seat on Bitterroot’s other side and was watching them with an easy smile on her face. Her colors were earthy: brown coat, messy black mane, gray eyes. Bitterroot privately wondered what it took to get a unicorn with that coloring. She was wearing a thick cloak; no bags, but she could’ve been staying in town. Something about her voice seemed strange, like she was using Trottinghamian phrasing with a Canterlotian accent.