Foiled!
Teeth close on nothing, coming together with a small clack when the golden mare pulls her wing away speaking a quiet reproach. Popinjay squeals loudly and scampers off a small distance, nosing at some of the redwood forest's endemic ferns as though to imply that she wasn't doing anything. The filly is not a very good actress, however. For a moment she snuffles at some moss with her upper lip as if thoroughly entranced, but quickly those wide eyes turn back to the winged mare. Her tail flicks impetuously, wagging like a dog's tail against her dark haunches.
When the feather is extended to her, she reaches out, hesitant, nose jerking back repeatedly, but slowly - so slowly! - she creeps forward again, head tilted slightly to one side to get the best look, while also granting her an inquisitive air. Once within reach, she grabs at the feather and pulls back, out of reach.
"M Fofnchey!" she says around the stiff wing-feather and through clenched teeth, thoroughly indecipherable but refusing to drop her prize. She snakes her neck from side to side, feeling the feather catch and push the air, and trots in a tight formation, pulling her knees high as she does so. "Lessy brah-me hrr."
Speaking of the purple-eyed mare (maybe?) Popinjay peers through the trees to where she knows Lethy is grazing, or was, but now one small ear catches the snips of drifting conversation. The adults' conversations never make a great deal of sense to her, and they bore her silly, so she is in no hurry to return just now, but having her nearby bolsters the young bay. She closes the distance between herself and winged mare quickly and, feather still firm from her lips, thrusts her nose up to meet nostril-to-nostril.
"Thnks fr thfther!"
Teeth close on nothing, coming together with a small clack when the golden mare pulls her wing away speaking a quiet reproach. Popinjay squeals loudly and scampers off a small distance, nosing at some of the redwood forest's endemic ferns as though to imply that she wasn't doing anything. The filly is not a very good actress, however. For a moment she snuffles at some moss with her upper lip as if thoroughly entranced, but quickly those wide eyes turn back to the winged mare. Her tail flicks impetuously, wagging like a dog's tail against her dark haunches.
When the feather is extended to her, she reaches out, hesitant, nose jerking back repeatedly, but slowly - so slowly! - she creeps forward again, head tilted slightly to one side to get the best look, while also granting her an inquisitive air. Once within reach, she grabs at the feather and pulls back, out of reach.
"M Fofnchey!" she says around the stiff wing-feather and through clenched teeth, thoroughly indecipherable but refusing to drop her prize. She snakes her neck from side to side, feeling the feather catch and push the air, and trots in a tight formation, pulling her knees high as she does so. "Lessy brah-me hrr."
Speaking of the purple-eyed mare (maybe?) Popinjay peers through the trees to where she knows Lethy is grazing, or was, but now one small ear catches the snips of drifting conversation. The adults' conversations never make a great deal of sense to her, and they bore her silly, so she is in no hurry to return just now, but having her nearby bolsters the young bay. She closes the distance between herself and winged mare quickly and, feather still firm from her lips, thrusts her nose up to meet nostril-to-nostril.
"Thnks fr thfther!"
Popinjay
She was not quite what you would call refined
@[Lepis]
