She sees the colt’s ears fall back, and squeals in the response, kicking twice with a back leg and ready to escalate when a tiny voice behind her suddenly pipes up. Already on the edge, Popinjay rears back and jumps away, startled, but she is quick to come back, eyeing The Thing closely. But it is not A Thing, rather, a Very Small Horse! And one with tiny fangs that glint in the bright summer sun like white quartz out of the river.
“Oh! Oh, you are very small,” she observes, helpfully, bowing down on bent knees so that her nose is on a level with the small pink filly, “but I don’t think Turul would eat a horse, even a really, really, little one.” The bay filly sounds disappointed, but only for a moment. She, too, is fascinated by Morgayne’s size, but also, her color. She is colored like dawn, blue and pink and bright. Most of the horses that Popinjay knows these days are varying shades of gold-to-white, though a few also have spectacular blues. Even Kildare’s black coat seems marvelous to her, and it is amazing that in a few month’s time, she could forget the usual colors of horses in favor of golds and creams.
When he calls her Killer, her ears pin again and she snakes her neck, nostrils narrowing until the air exits them in a breathy hiss, but she only drops her haunches to the ground, back legs tucked casually beneath her while the unusually small filly backs away, finding support against a smooth stone worn free of edges by the river’s high tides. Popinjay lowers her head, chin resting on the ground, eyeing Morgayne longingly, and wondering if she should still take her anyway. It would be nothing to pick her up and take her back to Taiga. Celina, in particular, would like her, but, she thinks, it might be hard to swear Owin to secrecy, and if he tells Lethy, Aten would probably not let them keep her. The disappointment ripples across her face again, and she looks up to Kildare, who is speaking gently to the young horse that barely reaches his fetlocks.
“I saw the hawk fly back upstream when you fell into the water,” she says, nodding firmly in confirmation of his observation, and then, back to him with a huff, “I can be alone! I am In-De-Pen-DENT! Besides, there aren’t any birds are trying to eat me for lunch.”
“Oh! Oh, you are very small,” she observes, helpfully, bowing down on bent knees so that her nose is on a level with the small pink filly, “but I don’t think Turul would eat a horse, even a really, really, little one.” The bay filly sounds disappointed, but only for a moment. She, too, is fascinated by Morgayne’s size, but also, her color. She is colored like dawn, blue and pink and bright. Most of the horses that Popinjay knows these days are varying shades of gold-to-white, though a few also have spectacular blues. Even Kildare’s black coat seems marvelous to her, and it is amazing that in a few month’s time, she could forget the usual colors of horses in favor of golds and creams.
When he calls her Killer, her ears pin again and she snakes her neck, nostrils narrowing until the air exits them in a breathy hiss, but she only drops her haunches to the ground, back legs tucked casually beneath her while the unusually small filly backs away, finding support against a smooth stone worn free of edges by the river’s high tides. Popinjay lowers her head, chin resting on the ground, eyeing Morgayne longingly, and wondering if she should still take her anyway. It would be nothing to pick her up and take her back to Taiga. Celina, in particular, would like her, but, she thinks, it might be hard to swear Owin to secrecy, and if he tells Lethy, Aten would probably not let them keep her. The disappointment ripples across her face again, and she looks up to Kildare, who is speaking gently to the young horse that barely reaches his fetlocks.
“I saw the hawk fly back upstream when you fell into the water,” she says, nodding firmly in confirmation of his observation, and then, back to him with a huff, “I can be alone! I am In-De-Pen-DENT! Besides, there aren’t any birds are trying to eat me for lunch.”
Popinjay
She was not quite what you would call refined
