It was a tiny tan unicorn filly, golden-haired with a small turquoise bow in her mane, bright azure eyes sparkling with innocence and curiosity and small, muddy hooves from walking in the mud approaching the cart from across the street. Her head was tilted, and she was looking up at the crate Handy just happened to be residing in. For a brief, horrifying moment, he thought she could see him through the small hole, his head facing towards the open end of the cart and out to the street. He cursed inwardly. He must have shaken the crate or partially opened the top of it when he suddenly moved to grab his wrist. She was at the cart now and her tiny hooves raised and placed on its edge, curious sea blue eyes poking over the edge and under a bank of golden mane to study the crate.