Delighted, Popinjay jumps back down to earth, landing in an ungainly pile of limbs that seem to knot together before falling away from each other and lifting her back into the air. That was a big jump! She is very brave! Arching her neck, the filly prances chin to chest as she follows Lethy dutifully. She had said there would be snacks. Who doesn’t like snacks? While the grass is being unearthed, Popinjay stops, large eyes glittering and ears so forward they might fall off. After a few strokes of Lethy’s hoof, the greenery springs up from underneath like a Jack-In-The-Box. That looks like fun. Mimicking the mare’s movement, Popinjay begins digging as well, through snow, through grass, through dirt. More dirt! The ground is less frozen here than where she came from or she could never accomplish it. Again, she presses her nose into the soil. Paw-paw-press-snort! Paw-paw-press-snort! She has completely forgotten the purpose until Lethy reminds her, and, tail flapping merrily, she chews rigorously on the fibrous grass listening to the Tale of Large Barry Bushes.
Should she know who that is?
It’s a short tale, anyway, which is just as well, because Popinjay’s attention span is also very short today. Forgetting that they are here to eat - was she ever even hungry? - she drops lightly to earth, legs folded neatly beneath her and a mouthful of half-chewed grass held shredded and wet between small teeth, frayed ends dangling forlornly from her lips.
“Ah blah-bah-beh! Mleh!”
Tossing her muzzle up and down, she opens her mouth, fat pink tongue shoving the remaining grass out in wads that hit the ground, her knees, the rocks. She does not look to see if they hit Lethy, but the end of Barry’s story comes with an offer to go see him and it draws her back.
”Yes, yes! I want to go meet Barry Bushes!”
Should she know who that is?
It’s a short tale, anyway, which is just as well, because Popinjay’s attention span is also very short today. Forgetting that they are here to eat - was she ever even hungry? - she drops lightly to earth, legs folded neatly beneath her and a mouthful of half-chewed grass held shredded and wet between small teeth, frayed ends dangling forlornly from her lips.
“Ah blah-bah-beh! Mleh!”
Tossing her muzzle up and down, she opens her mouth, fat pink tongue shoving the remaining grass out in wads that hit the ground, her knees, the rocks. She does not look to see if they hit Lethy, but the end of Barry’s story comes with an offer to go see him and it draws her back.
”Yes, yes! I want to go meet Barry Bushes!”
Popinjay
.........
if you'd like to continue this elsewhere, I'm game
