It both pleases and intrigues you to find the glistening green eyes of the mare rising, searching, heeding your childish demand. She mentions egg and your impressionable thoughts turn to the fragments of shell left behind at the base of the old tree that had sheltered you, Bird and Ze-ro the previous night. She hatched barely one day ago from one such thing, and the idea begins quickly to sour in your mind - it seems altogether unnatural that the little Kitsune should fancy eggs to eat, after all. It has never occurred to you that the soft, grassy nest which birthed you might be in fact edible (neither so the concept that foals fell from wombs).

Grown ups know best though, those who have passed already through your brief life have hardly given you reason to doubt the fact and you sigh simply because this slender creature will undoubtedly solve your greatest dilemma.

It seems - you decide easily - that the spotty, creamy stallion agrees that eggs might feed Bird. His cobalt-blue eyes trail to the still thick leafy awning above and you follow too, eagerly, yet not so quickly noting their target nest. They stew for a little time, while in the meantime you search the patchwork ceiling for the pastel hue of eggshell. Sunlight beams from behind the fluttering leaves, and the slip of bright shafts make your endeavour quite difficult indeed; never the less you persist, casting your pale eyes aside whenever blinded. It is the hum of grown up voices that again steal your focus, and promptly you follow the path of your swivelling ears towards them.

Puzzled, you stray a second glance upwards to find the eggs they are referring to - but you can see nothing of the sort. A soft snort rattles your thin nostrils and you again run your soft lips over Bird’s thick coat.

With a stirring mellowness to her tone, the mare introduces herself as Bellisima and you smile broadly, with a nod. There have been many occasions now that have required the revelation of your name…“Bird,” you begin enthusiastically, lifting your face at last to meet her lovely eyes. “Bird n’ Za-ha. Zah-ra…” You roll your tongue carefully, practicing the sound of your name with new diligence, because Ze-ro’s sounded very like it - but more boyish. Thoughtfully you shift your gaze to the stallion who had also been queried for a name, but you find to your surprise, that he is quite engaged.

He is standing across his hind legs most awkwardly, and confused, you slip a little nearer to the mare. Bellisma. With widening eyes you watch as he stretches towards the canopy - towards a little cluster of branches, all woven together. You are particularly curious, but hardly inclined to investigate (especially with the emerald eyed adult so tense at your side). The stallion dips back to earth, and a breath escapes your lungs. You have been holding your breath, baited, anticipating. His return is short lived however, and with expanding interest you notice him rise once again. This time he approaches the intricate bundle of twigs differently, and you whisper unhelpfully, “Da flies”. In support of your disclosure, the tiny part-feathered wings nestled against your furred ribs ruffle audibly.

When at last your friend’s enormous hooves (comparatively speaking) fall again back to the ground, there is no denying your complete and utter distractedness. You stumble towards the nest brashly, with nose lowered, pumping excitedly. You knew of nests, sure, but you had never truly seen one. “Yes!” you tell him swiftly when he asks you a question - though the answer you give refers little to the underlying reason for his effort. So too does he mention something else, but you are not truly listening and fail to pick it as his name.

Inside the nest, there are two eggs and you recoil suddenly, as understanding suddenly dawns through your mind. “Bird!” you chirp, dismayed in a sense - what if there was another like the tiny puppy within? Of course you sill don’t grasp the idea that the protein within them might nourish her. Imploringly you look up towards Bellisma. As you do so, the Kitsune begins to squirm. She is not like other canines, similar in appearance; she is a mythical creature with qualities beyond the common realm and her bones have strength already enough to support her. Her nose is brilliantly sensitive and the taste of the warm yolk within the grounded gifts rouse her to life - properly.

You turn to the scuff of movement, ears pricked and eyes staring blatantly. Bird has crawled to the stick nest and you gaze, struck by silence, as she devours one egg entirely. Slowly you gulp, and your jaw slips open. The puppy quickly moves to the second and similarly gobbles it, pink tongue sweeping afterwards across the wiry whiskers to either side of her dark nose. Hesitantly you look to the mare first for reassurance, and then towards the stallion - you are troubled by the nature of her carnivores appetite, obviously.