They had come up from their hole in Taiga's wall. It had not been long since he came into the world but he had spent enough time eating and learning the ways of his wobbly legs. Now he was determined to find the Popinjay.
He had only gotten caught up in his legs a couple times as they ascended the hill and out into a bigger opening. Lethy called out for Popinjay, as Owin told her he wanted to meet her, and then started to graze to regain her energy. Owin stood up, legs spread wide tail flipping so fast it could almost knock him over. His blue, purple eyes scanned the field as he waited patiently searching the minds nearby to pick Popinjay out from the rest. There she was.
@[Popinjay]
 Popinjay has been playing in a small clearing, shaking sticks and tearing at ferns as they unfurl with sparkling white, if small, teeth. The fiddleheads are alright, but the mature leaves taste odd and she spits them back out, messily, on the moss covered rocks. Aten sent Turul after her, and she knows that he is something of a baby-sitter, but also that he cannot actually stop her, if she’s fast enough, and so she does not mind. Besides, the gyrfalcon is apt to join her play, as long as she minds her hooves.
She spent a portion of the day hunting rabbits for Turul, a task for which she was ill-equipped, and so, was a spectacular failure. The rabbits no longer had any particular trust in the small foal and though they were also not terribly threatened by her, they moved off quickly when she came into view.
Harumph!
It just didn’t seem like it should be that hard! The weasels and grey foxes do it, and they are even smaller than her! And she is definitely just as sneaky as them! The filly shakes her head, curled forelock bouncing against the bright star on her forehead that gleams in the late day light that hits it, and finally lays down in a huff, legs curled beneath her while she chews on the first hardy grasses greening underfoot. They taste green and bright after the dull, dead, feed that they have been eating for most of winter.
When Lethy’s call comes, bright and beckoning, Popinjay finds that she has been dozing lightly, and she returns it with a sleepy whinny that bounces between the trees and seems to come back at her from everywhere and nowhere. She rises and stretches, arching her neck first, then stepping forward and extending each back leg behind her. One. Two. Then her back hunches, she crowhops forward, and lands in a ground eating trot that takes her closer to the mare and colt.
It is not a long trip, she had not gone too very far, and her dark eyes find the golden mare quickly, accustomed to her shape. At first she does not notice the smaller buckskin colt, her attention taken by judging the emotions of the small meadow, but when she judges all to be calm, she moves in closer, gaze alighting on him all at once. She skips forward to the new colt, thrusting her nose against his in greeting.
They are several months apart and where she is rounded muscle and fat, he is all angles and long legs, still unfolding, but their heights are not terribly disparate. It is becoming quickly apparent that Popinjay will not be tall in her maturity, but, for now, she is practically a giant in height and body score compared to the colt.
"Hello!"
Popinjay She was not quite what you would call refined
He smiled as he watched Popinjay advance on them tilting his head slightly as she stopped to gauge the meadow. He fingered through her thoughts for a moment knowing nothing of privacy or space and saw her frustrations of her earlier escapade of rabbit hunting, and he giggled.
His vision changed, looped in Popinjay's thoughts, and he scanned the meadow for other heat signatures. All was calm, as she had assumed but he caught 4 small bodies hiding of to the side of the meadow close to the trees and their burrows. Rabbits. His mind untangled from Popinjay's briefly as he found himself lost in the bunnies' minds, hiding from the whirlwind that was Popinjay.
He looked back to Popinjay his vision returning to normal and suddenly, very suddenly, her nose was squished to his. He didn't hesitate he simply squished his nose back to hers eyes locked to hers. He stayed there for a moment as if he was trapping something precious between the two that he didn't want to lose to the grass below them.
Popinjay! he squeaked up at her as he released that precious thing and gave the girl some space. My sister! I'm Owin. Don't worry you'll get them next time. he whispered with a giggle.
@[Popinjay]
07-28-2019, 06:35 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-28-2019, 06:58 PM by Popinjay.)
She had not seen the rabbits when she came trotting through the small tree-ringed meadow to find mother-and-son. Surely, they saw her, and laid low to the ground, slinking back to their dens in the awkward, rocking, gait rabbits take when moving slowly. If she had spotted them, mostly likely the filly would have let them go, would have been happy to let these ones pass for the time being. She would only pretend that they were not there at all and should have no reason to avoid her.
But she does not think these things, because she does not see them, the new colt has taken up her attention for now. He talks quite a lot, but this does not bother her, though it is odd for a newborn. What is oddness to Popinjay, bright and ready for the world? It never occurs to her that reading her mind is a special trick. It never occurs to her that the world doesn’t revolve around her entirely, and so it is perfectly natural to Popinjay that @[Owin] knows what she has been up to all day, even though he has no right to that knowledge. She nods solemnly in response. Next time. She will get them next time, definitely.
“Of course I will!” She exclaims, because, of course she will! There was never any doubt in the bay’s mind about it and so she requires no bolstering from the colt… her brother? Although they are not blood, he calls her Sister. It is Lethy that ties them together, of course, and again, she does not question his knowledge because of course he knows this. Everybody knows that the purple-eyed mare took in the foundling Popinjay, and although the little bay filly’s family ties are loose and liquid like the rest of her, she has maintained a close tie to the gentle mare. She does not mind being called Sister.
With a laugh like bells, she pulls her muzzle from Owin’s and dances a merry circle around him, ending with a snort and a stomp and a firm nudge to his angular flank.
“I’m tired of chasing rabbits, let’s do something else,” she says, tossing her head wildly then racing off with a shouted “come on!”
Popinjay She was not quite what you would call refined
He pulled himself from her thoughts, in order to think for himself during her exclamation of rabbit hunting. It may seem odd that one so young would be as verbal as him. Though his voice was pitchy and filled with youth, his mind had months of thoughts, conversations, and moments of others. He hadn't had much else to do as he grew inside Lethy. His thought process and his vocabulary, though he was sure some harder words would trip him up eventually, were rather mature in comparison to his newness. It did not phase him, the speculation from Aten and Popinjay of his abilities to conversate so early in life.
As Popinjay circled him and then nudged him his ears stood at attention as he watched her race off shouting after him to follow. It did not occur to him until he tried to take off after her that his body was not as mature as his mind, and his legs tangled beneath him while his body was still in motion. The ground came up fast as he met it almost face first. The impact hurt for only a short moment as he untangled himself and his mom moved to him, helping him find his hooves once more. He looked up to her with a broad smile Thanks, mama. he said with pure sincerity. She nodded after him, planting a kiss to his small cheek, before he took off after Popinjay.
Once he had caught up slowing long before he made it to her side - he did not want to find himself plastered to the ground again, he looked to her What are we doing?. His tail flipped wildly behind him as he waited for an answer. This was great, having someone around all the time to play with. He knew he could learn a few things from Popinjay. Where he was thoughtful and reserved, she acted out of curiosity. The world to him was much bigger than himself, he had known that from within the womb. Spontaneity was not a quality he found himself to posses.
@[Popinjay]
08-01-2019, 11:15 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-01-2019, 11:16 AM by Popinjay.)
It startles her when he falls, a flash of blue and gold legs tangled and tumbling, flailing briefly in the air as the colt hits the ground, too new to be running, and she rockets forward, haunches tucked under her, growing tail pressed down tight, and eyes rolling. What is he doing? But the answer becomes clear quickly and after a moment she circles back around, near to where Lethy nudges him gently, helping him back up onto slender legs. Unhurt, he rises, and Popinjay dances impatiently, then takes off once more with a squeal and a jump, leading the following colt through a maze of woods.
“We’re going this way!” she exclaims, when he has caught up and questioned her. They are going this way, because it is the way to go. A light fog has settled low among the ferns and stirs as they pass by, swirling silver tendrils about their legs. For a moment she pauses, snorting into the mist to watch it curl and twist, and then, laughing brightly, the filly rears, walking a short distance on her back feet before scrabbling up onto time-flattened slabs of rock, covered in green moss. Reaching down from above, she bends her knees, wrinkled nose passing through the air above Owin’s head. Her hooves ring against the hard stone and reverberate off the tree trunks that surround them. She has no idea if the colt can climb onto the rocks, his body is still slight, without the musculature that he will have in even just a few days time, but it is not necessary to cross the creek her way, it is quite shallow here.
The water flows flat and glossy across the shelf of rocks, trickling back onto the ancient creekbed where Owin stands and leaving a small dark cave only big enough for water beetles and spiders. Popinjay knows from trying to crawl inside the first time she came here, receiving only a sore bite on the nose for her trouble. She rubs her muzzle against her shoulder at the memory, and then crosses the creek, trip-trap-trip-trap, splashing sparkling water up so it beads on her coat and falls below where her brother stands.
They are not far now, but she waits, letting the buckskin take his time.
“ If you fall, don’t tell Lethy it was my fault.”
Popinjay She was not quite what you would call refined
He followed her trustingly, but also knowing Lethy was not far behind. He could pick her mind out of a thousand different ones with the ease of breathing. His enthusiasm was pale in comparison to Popinjay's even though every ounce of him was enjoying this escapade and he was filled with excitement.
He stopped to sniff the silver fog that twirled around their legs as they went. A violent sneeze vibrated through him as he inhaled a bug that sat lazily beneath said fog. He twitched his nose back and forth as he tried to blow the bug out. Eventually after many attempts and a few bounces, the bug rocketed out of his nostril never to be found again. He watched the fog cautiously from then on, not dipping his head to it anymore to inspect it as they went.
He watches as his sister conquers the rocks infront of them and proceeds to tell him not to tell Lethy it was her fault if he fell. He cocked his head at her, his large blue-purple eyes taking her in for only a moment. The large white star that decorated her forehead dulled my the cover of trees, but still bright against her dark coat. He gave her a gummy smile in response I would never. he didn't really know if he would never but it seemed like a response she'd accept.
As she continued on her way he glanced at the rocks infront of him. They looked slippery but not all that hard. Cautiously he began his ascent, his legs were wobbly with exertion but his hooves held steady as he made his way up. When he made it to the top he gave a small hop into the water in triumph. This is where he went wrong he thought in the split second it took for his feet to find contact in the shallow water. He had landed on a particularly slippery moss patch and tumbled across the wet rocks. It did not take him long to regain his composure, the accumulated water dripping from his golden-blue hide. I made it. he shrugged at Popinjay. His eyes scanned the scenery around him as he waited for directions.
@[Popinjay]
08-05-2019, 09:14 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-05-2019, 09:15 PM by Popinjay.)
He is so wet. Lethy is for sure going to know something happened. Popinjay looks the colt over, briefly, appraising, but he seems unhurt. With a nod, then, she leads him further into the redwood forest, navigating east and up, it is damp going, with the fog and frequent rains, and centuries of fallen leaves and branches snaking through the undergrowth. But, at last, they are near. The trees, tight together and thick-trunked, suddenly break apart from one another, an expanse of clear sky shining down on what, to young eyes, appears to be a great canyon that stretches forever. In reality, it is a somewhat deep ravine with a dark, black creek trickling at it’s center, out of sight and hidden by a swirl of thorny bushes, and steep, rocky, sloped sides. The sun is thick, here, and the fog that snakes between the great trees on their level drifts and is caught in the updraft, is pulled away, writhing and dancing and glinting in the sun. Everything here glows, faintly gold, faintly green, except for that black creek below, and near where they have emerged from the trees, one great redwood has toppled, its crown easily reaching the other side.
Where the great tree once stood, an enormous hole has opened, a giant cavern that could easily swallow both foals, and hides its secrets in a darkness untouched by the sun. The smell of wet soil emanates from the mouth of the cave, and the dangling tendrils of its roots have already attracted gnats, which have attracted spiders. Silver webs spring up even as they watch.
When the tree fell, it had sounded like an explosion, it had sounded like nothing she had ever heard before, creaking and cracking for an eternity, and then a hush before the boom. It had echoed even in the Taiga, where the echoes are swallowed by tree trunks, and the ground had rumbled underfoot. Perhaps it was the nature of it’s landing, that the sound was amplified by the ravine, like holding a cup to your mouth. In its fall, the tree had destroyed surrounding saplings, which stood shattered, or were flung to the ground, digging into it, scarring the black earth. It was large, and big enough for the young horses to walk on, if they could find a way up. She had not had an opportunity to try, however, and the cavern was an amusing diversion.
For once, she says nothing, but grabs a nearby stick to swing through the air, fencing flies with a makeshift sword, while Owin take in the view before him.
Popinjay She was not quite what you would call refined
They had walked a great way from where they had started and Owin began to feel, in his gut, a sensation of apprehension. He let his mind twist through the trees behind them picking out squirrels, rabbits, mice, what he thought was Turual sitting still on a thick branch not far off, and then finally Lethy. The presence of her mind comforted him in his adventure and he inhaled one long breath before continuing on.
They stopped where the fog danced in the sun. There was a solid border of trees behind them from which they came and looking out Owin almost wished he could return to those trees. His mother along with Aten had of course taken him to their spot above the waterfall, but this was different.
Where as, at the waterfall everything was in view, the colors shown bright and the sound of the water crashing beneath was not deceiving in its strength. This cavern, ravine, canyon, what ever it may be, was deep and dark. Owin crept close enough to the edge that he could not easily be dumped over the side by a wayward wind, but he could flip his vision and stare into the darkness. There seemed to be almost nothing.
Hello? he shouted into the nothingness and for a second his own voice echoed back until it was gobbled up by those hideous ferns and that black, black water.
Owin backed up carefully from the edge his gaze shifting to Popinjay who stood ready with her stick, combating anything that got near. With curiosity his eyes shifted to the large tree that had fallen and shaken Taiga to its core, maybe he was being a little dramatic. It's broken trunk was wider than Owin and Popinjay combined and the hole it left, he noticed as he moved closer, was just as ominous as the ravine he'd just inspected. What do you think is down there? he questioned nosing a nearby nut up and over the edge to be lost forever.
@[Popinjay]
Popinjay stops swinging her stick to watch Owin peer over the edge of the ravine, and nudge the tree nut down into the wet cavern left by roots ripping free from the damp earth. Her ears flick forward, straining to hear the wet thudding sounds as it falls, striking the sides. At some point in its long life, the tree must have found an open space deep underneath itself, a cave with an entrance in the wall of the ravine, or perhaps simply an open place where plates of rock piled together eons ago, and slowly became the foundation of the forest. Anything could be down there.
“Oh, it’s definitely monsters.” She replies, sagely, letting the stick fall back to the ground, and joining the colt at the edge. There is nothing that either of them can see with normal equine vision, only a blank, black space that hums softly with the faint, distant sound of water moving past. An underground creek, or the vibration of the black water at the ravine’s very center, dark and tannic from centuries of decaying plant matter falling to its banks. Following the golden colt’s lead, she noses a rock – somewhat larger than the previous nut – over the edge, it rolls quickly out of sight and into inky darkness.
For once, even Popinjay is reluctant.
The open, airy caves of the rocks near the Hyaline border are something different, airy and relatively dry, and with some light filtering in beyond their mouths, they pique her interest, but are relatively safe. This black socket ripped into the earth makes her uneasy, for all that she also finds it fascinating. Feeling suddenly nervous, she thrusts her black muzzle out, pressing firmly against Owin’s chest, pushing him away from the great, dark wound as if the much more cautious colt needed the encouragment to stay back. Instead, her attention is turned to the massive trunk. Worried eyes turn bright again.
“Do you think we could get up there?”
Popinjay She was not quite what you would call refined
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