The door finally opened, tugged by the field of a vaguely-familiar unicorn. “Diamond . . . ah. . . .” Allie craned her neck to get a glimpse of the mare's cutie mark, hoping it might provide some sort of clue. She's seen her at market; she'd seen her family around town. Of course, the two mares ran in totally different social circles. You try explaining that to an earth pony, though—they assume all us unicorns are some kind of a tight-knit group.