05-13-2016, 09:23 PM
Father inspects the circle I have traced out, giving careful consideration to the terms we are negotiating. Thorough attention to detail. I approve. He makes one adjustment to account for an area I included that looks like an interesting spot to explore, but contains a fairly significant potential hazard. One that ignites a spark of curiosity about my body's proficiency for climbing, so I suppose his concern is a legitimate one. Adult supervision needed. That seems fair. With a snort and a not, I agree to his terms.
I tilt my head and watch as his body reduces in size until it is comparable to mine. Fascinating. I wonder if his mass is the same and he is therefore more dense at this size. If not, where does the surplus go? Momentarily distracted, I circle around him, noting the way he has retained his original proportions in miniature. He did not turn himself into a foal, did not regress in age, merely reduced his body's size. Fascinating.
When I come back around him and see the blood trickling down his shoulder to match mine, I am recalled to my task. I give the agreed upon area a final once-over, then press my bleeding shoulder into his. We have a deal. After a few seconds I pull away and lick our mingled blood off his shoulder, cleaning the wound. Something shifts in my chest, the release of tension I did not know I still held. Mine. It is good.
I meet his eyes, one corner of my mouth curving upward. Adult supervision required? It would seem I have exactly that. Sounds like the perfect opportunity to explore that area he excluded from the circle. I touch my nose to his neck, breathing in his and Mother's newly mingled scent, then turn to go take advantage of the required supervision to nose around in the are beneath the overhanging log, and then try climbing it. It's at an angle that makes me think it might be possible when I have better mastery over my limbs. I do not expect to succeed this time, but I will learn far more from failure than I will from success.
I tilt my head and watch as his body reduces in size until it is comparable to mine. Fascinating. I wonder if his mass is the same and he is therefore more dense at this size. If not, where does the surplus go? Momentarily distracted, I circle around him, noting the way he has retained his original proportions in miniature. He did not turn himself into a foal, did not regress in age, merely reduced his body's size. Fascinating.
When I come back around him and see the blood trickling down his shoulder to match mine, I am recalled to my task. I give the agreed upon area a final once-over, then press my bleeding shoulder into his. We have a deal. After a few seconds I pull away and lick our mingled blood off his shoulder, cleaning the wound. Something shifts in my chest, the release of tension I did not know I still held. Mine. It is good.
I meet his eyes, one corner of my mouth curving upward. Adult supervision required? It would seem I have exactly that. Sounds like the perfect opportunity to explore that area he excluded from the circle. I touch my nose to his neck, breathing in his and Mother's newly mingled scent, then turn to go take advantage of the required supervision to nose around in the are beneath the overhanging log, and then try climbing it. It's at an angle that makes me think it might be possible when I have better mastery over my limbs. I do not expect to succeed this time, but I will learn far more from failure than I will from success.