“Well, I do hate to contradict you, Twilight,” said Rarity, with a little sparkle of something that wasn’t regret in her eyes. “But the fact of the matter is, I’ve seen one.”

She’d spoken calmly, in her usual tone of voice, but it seemed as if everyone at Mellifleur’s Café had fallen utterly silent. Twilight’s face seemed to be trying to turn a different shade of purple.

“You’ve… What? You’re not serious, Rarity. Are you?” Rarity watched Twilight trying to scan her face for signs of deception. Sadly, Twilight, for all her love of honesty, was simply not good at such a game, and this put the cherry atop the sundae of Rarity’s hidden amusement. She relished it for a few seconds more.

“I am utterly serious, Twilight. I have in fact seen a human, with my own eyes.”

Twilight groaned. “Oh, no, now you’ve gone crazy, too! I assure you, I’ve done more than enough research to prove that anthropoid cryptids can’t possibly exist as described. I’ve mapped the ecological systems in their supposed habitats, and there simply is no room for any additional predators at their level of the food chain. Not a single bone or scrap of hide have ever been shown!”

Rarity drew breath to reply, but Twilight surged on. “And every time I present my evidence, the believers change their stories! ‘Oh, they don’t live under bridges anymore, since you started looking there; you chased them away and now they’re deep forest dwellers! Oh, you must have disturbed them in the forest, now they live on snowy mountain tops…’ Twilight paused for breath and a long sip of Grey Marle tea. “These so-called ‘Humans,’ ‘Bigfeet,’ whatever you call them, fit every possible pattern for a simple myth, or a crazed delusion!”

Rarity smiled. “Oh, dear Twilight, I’m sorry to have gotten you upset on such a beautiful morning. These meetings of ours are supposed to calm both of our nerves! I do believe you, and I agree with you that secret tribes of anthropoids are extremely unlikely to have ever existed in Equestria, as some have claimed. Nevertheless, I have seen a human–tall, bipedal, mostly hairless, flat-muzzled, wearing clothes, apparently a toolmaker or user, and most definitely sapient.”

Rarity was pleased to see the disdain fading away as some of the curiosity returned to her friend’s eyes.

Twilight snorted softly and set down her teacup. “Please tell me more, Rarity. Where did you see it?

Rarity took a sip from her own cup and ordered her thoughts. “Do you recall last year, Twilight, when Spike received a larger scroll than usual, addressed to me? He insisted on delivering it to me personally. You must have been quite curious at the time.”

“I do remember! It had Luna’s personal seal on it. And yes, I was very interested, but it wouldn’t have been polite to pry.”

Rarity mentally added some shaved chocolate to her sundae of delight. Twilight had been making what she conceived to be subtle hints for weeks after the package had arrived, to the degree that Rarity had been tempted to see if Twilight would literally jump through a hoop just to learn more.

“Of course not, darling. Well, I was not at full liberty to disclose before, but I can tell you now, I suppose. In the few weeks before that package arrived, I’d been working through some personal matters which I needn’t describe in detail, but I’m sure you know how it is when a creative person encounters, let’s say, not a roadblock on the path to success, but a loop? Where you are treading the same ground, stitching the same patterns, your thread travelling around and around and around, all the bold and career defining designs done, and just the barest hint of horror lying around the corner. Have I done everything I will ever do? Will all my future simply be a retread of the past, with no bursts of inspiration to lead one higher?”

Twilight’s gaze grew distant, unreadable. After a moment, she nodded. “I do know that feeling.”

Rarity nodded, and lifted a teapot to refill her cup. “Well I was working myself into quite a state over this, and it was starting to affect my sleep. And one night, Luna came to me in a dream. I like to think that she was taking an interest as a friend, and not just as a ruler of the realm checking upon the fitness of one of her trusted weapons…”

“It was the former, Rarity,” Twilight said firmly.

“Thank you,” said Rarity with a smile. “Anyway, I recall dreaming that I was wandering across a bridge, and feeling very low indeed, and gazing at the water. But then the sky and its reflection below turned black and starry, sparkling beautifully, and she appeared beside me. We spoke together for a long time, and I opened my heart to her, and she understood, just as you do, for the heavens are only her Art. But just before I awoke, she promised to send me some more tangible assistance. The package which you received for me arrived a day later.

“When I unwrapped the scroll, it showed a picture of a beautiful filigree diadem, wrought in gold and meant to enclose one’s entire horn, with a perfect gleaming moonstone at the center, and of a very antique design. When I reached out to touch it, I found I could draw it forth from the scroll, and it became real in my grasp. The rest of the scroll explained that the diadem was made by an ancient craftspony that Luna had known, and that he had made but a small number in his lifetime. If worn while sleeping, it was said to direct one to a moment of piercing, beauteous inspiration, after which it would fall to dust.”

“That was a precious gift, indeed,” said Twilight. “I’ve heard of those diadems. No price can purchase them; they can only be given.”

“I suspected as much. And naturally, I wanted to save such a gift for the Right Moment. But one can wait and wait for the right moment, and live out one’s whole life, only to discover that it’s passed you by. Luna surely didn’t mean for me to keep the gift and never use it.”

“Sometimes you have to create the moment,” observed Twilight, stirring some honey into her cup. “Sometimes you must do the best you can with what you have on hand. Even if the seed is not perfect, you may still create something amazing, guided in a new direction by its limitations. I’ve discovered many interesting spells that way.”

“I see that you understand perfectly. And so, one brightly moonlit night, I wore the diadem, invested the moonstone with a measure of my magic force, and went to sleep. And what came after, I suppose, you may well dismiss as a dream that Luna sent to me, a comforting but unreal story…”

“But why would she need to do that?” exclaimed Twilight. “She can send you dreams any time she wishes. I can’t think of why she would want to deceive you, or why you would deceive me. I trust you, Rarity, and I’m sorry I called you crazy earlier.”

“Thank you, Twilight,” said Rarity with a heartbare look, “And apology accepted. It’s easy enough for me to doubt what I saw, but it felt real beyond any dream. A dream sort of carries you along through your inner worlds, but does not stand up well to probing. But what I saw felt touchable and testable, and external to me.

“I remember that as I slept, I suddenly felt that time had fallen away from me, and that everywhere around me was the same distance away, so that the furthest mountains were just as close to me as my own house, and the stars in the sky were swirling like butterflies in the wind, about to land upon me. I saw a deepening golden glow, and I was drawn towards it. It grew too bright for me to look at, and I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, everything had changed.

“I was in another world, quite truly. The color of the sky was not so rich a blue as ours, but a sort of paler cerulean, and the sun in that sky was dazzling and painful to look at. I could feel its warmth, but it was a warmth of fire and not of love, if you understand me.”

Twilight took up a napkin as if to dab at her lips, and discreetly lowered it to her side where a small quill was ready to start scribbling notes and equations. “Please go on,” she said.

“Around me was a rather small garden, with a curving path through some red rose bushes, and some stonework ringing a group of yellow tulips, and a little pond, along the edge of which grew some orange lilies. I walked along this path a bit, and while I was hesitant to eat any of the flowers, for I was only a guest, I did try a few of the rose petals that lay upon the path. They were slightly sweet, with a bitter aftertaste.

“And beyond the garden was an odd house. Its foundation was smooth as if all carved from one stone, and the white panelling on the side seemed to consist of a very thin metal. I could sense nothing about it with my gem sense; it was simply there, perfunctory, a house made to house anyone, or no-one in particular. It was as if the builders hadn’t known who the house would be for, or didn’t care.

“There was a solarium attached to the house, and in it was a breakfast table, not very different from the one we’re sitting at now, and on it were such mundane things as a tea service and plates of toast. But at that table was the human, wearing a white collared shirt, a bow tie, and dark brown pants, reading a newspaper and eating a scone. He--” Rarity sighed. “I know what you’re about to ask. How did I know what gender the human was? Well, he had a moustache. How do I know that it’s male humans who have the moustaches? Well, I don’t know, darling, but I think it was male, and we’ll have to leave it there. For all I know, the human had trouble telling what gender I am, despite my radiant charms.

“He suddenly looked up at me, as I stood there with the golden diadem on my head and several rose petals clinging to my lips. I feared he would come to a wrong conclusion and be angry at me, but his face seemed friendly enough. He rose from the table, blinked at me several times through the glass walls of the solarium, took off his round spectacles and polished them, and then turned away from me and went through the wide Pranch doors and into the main house.

“So far, I was dreadfully confused. I was quite interested to see the human, of course, but it didn’t seem particularly inspiring. Still, I hoped that further things would happen, so I waited, feeling a cool breeze on my back and watching the glints of the sun shimmer in the little pond. I heard some shouting inside the house, a deeper voice, very calm, and a higher voice, very angry, but I couldn’t make out the words.

“Soon after, he came out again into the solarium, opened the outer door, and came towards me, and I got a better look at him. His spectacles were dark rimmed and very thick, and he blinked rapidly in the sunlight, with a strange squint in his left eye. I believe that he couldn’t see very well even with the glasses. He had a dark scraggly mane on his head, and I’ve mentioned the moustache, but the rest of his face was bare. He came towards me, blinking and peering about, as if I were as blurry as a cloud of smoke or as delicate as a soap bubble.I suppose he had more reason to be disconcerted than I, for I had set out to find something unusual, wearing a golden cover upon my horn, and he had just been sitting and reading when an otherworldly creature appeared in his garden.

“He walked around me in a circle and studied me, which gave me more time to look at him up close. I particularly admired the smart precision of the stitching on his clothes! Finer and more precise than could be done by hand, or any sewing machine I’ve yet encountered. I had thought his feet ended in hooves at first, for they were black and shiny, but now I saw that they were only shoes. I still don’t know what his feet actually look like, but they stuck out rather far in the front, so perhaps this is where the term ‘Bigfoot’ comes from.

“It reached out with one of its paws towards me–it had five long thin digits, with thin translucent hooflets on each one–and I shied away a bit from the strangeness of it all, and it dropped its hand. But then it bent over, took up a lily from the ground, and offered it to me!”

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Twilight. “That’s certainly evidence of sapient behavior. How was it?”

“It was firm and juicy, if a trifle bland. As I chewed it, I saw him peering at me intently, still blinking, but over his face came the most wonderful expression of delight I’d ever seen. It was as if all his life he’d been looking through a veil, and suddenly he could see clearly again for one brief moment. Or–I have an intuition, but I don’t have any facts I can use to support it.”

“Please tell me anyway,” said Twilight.

“I think he was an artist too, a creator like us. But his vision kept leading him astray, as when you look through a fogged window at the lights out on the street, and it looks as if you’re seeing a mystical land of wild colors and dancing gems and beings of pure light, a world where apples might grow inside out or fire might be cool enough to touch and feel how soft and velvety it is. But then you wipe away the moisture and it just becomes another dull street scene, with flickering lamps and ponies going about their business and nothing extraordinary at all.”

Rarity’s gaze fell to her tea. On its surface, she saw wavering reflections of Twilight’s face, and the other patrons in the café, and the candles on the wall sconces, and a window with the open sky beyond. Everything was cast in brown from the color of the tea, and it was all very small and trembled from the slightest breath.

“I think the world was like that for him, that he kept seeing marvelous things far away in his odd sight that weren’t there when he got up close, and it was cutting him and his art down to the roots. But then I was there, and I was real, and he could feed me lilies, and it altered his whole life. He knew then that there was something else out there after all, a vision that wasn’t backed by disillusion and disappointment. Not a pretty diadem on paper, but something tangible to greet and behold and admire.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” said Twilight. “What happened next?”

“I’m afraid that it’s quite sad. He reached out to me again, and this time I was willing to let him touch me, but just then that higher-pitched voice from the house called out to him again, and the moment broke like a soap-bubble. I saw him look towards the house in anger, then back to me again with anguish, then he held out his paw to me, flat and vertical. Then he ran towards the house, shouting something in a horrid rage. I think he had wanted me to wait for him to return, and I was willing to do so, but as he entered the house again the world blurred around me and ran like melting wax, and then I awoke with a start in my own bed, with a golden dawn washing away the night sky, and golden dust falling from my horn and leaving imprints on my pillowcase.”

Twilight had stopped scribbling on her napkin. “So, from his point of view, you didn’t wait for him, and you might have been just a dream anyway, or a delusion after all.” She shook her head. “Oh, that poor creature.”

Rarity nodded. “For my part, the contact was an utter success. The inequinely-tight stitching on his clothes gave me the idea for magical augments to standard sewing machines, and now the style has taken off; I am once again the pacesetter. That spring line of mine, the suits and gowns that functioned so well when dancing upright, also came from my observation of the way he walked, and that gait of his as he stumbled towards me in the grasp of an impossible hope. Each time I reflect upon our meeting, I recall odd aspects of it that spawn new ideas, some of which become quite fruitful indeed.

“As for him, I certainly hope I didn’t do anything to drive him mad. Perhaps the event drove him sane instead, in some way.

“But however things turned out, I hope he found a way to share it with someone, without them thinking that he was crazy.”