Trudging with very little grace over the summer flowers, taking great bites of the buffet the meadow had to offer, Pippigrin was intent on tasting every single unknown flower and plant in archipelago. With no real notion or hint towards the very true and real threat of poisonous plants, the hobbit lazily tumbled his chops over each awaiting bud and petal, the aromas of each causing his nares to flaw and his eyes to flutter closed with delight as he chewed the scrumptious delicacy. If the Heavenly Fields were the luncheon stop, he had definitely found supper; Knowledge of this wondrous place made trips to the north seem a lot less daunting when he knew he could always stop for a little dessert.

It was as he turned his  goose-coloured body towards the mountainside that the hooves of familiar yet not-so-familiar face addressed the undergrowth he stood upon. The hobbit, who by now was smiling brilliantly at the prospect of a friend to share his luncheon time with, was taken quite aback by what seemed like the abrupt beginnings of an attack.
“UHM” The pegasus bleated, staggering backwards at the unicorns request for a spar. Here? Now? But it’s lunch time!? “Can’t it wait ’til after Lunc-OOH!” The halfling made a dive to the left, only to be caught in the onyx jaws of his attacker, his whither and spine snagged between the forceps of his incisors.
The pain; it burst. Like thunder clapping across a cloud, Pippigrin could almost feel the blood vessels burst and rupture underneath his soft, dewy skin, bloodied teethmarks the only evidence left upon the surface, though a brilliant and awesome bruise had begun to groan and stir beneath.

His own pair of incisors, tushes and wolf teeth too, had bit down with angst and lament against the furious pain in his back; it was one that would not cripple him thankfully, nor would it leave him limping and lame, but still it was enough to strike a deep dread and fear within his fluttering heart.
To escape would be simple; to execute a move like that against someone so tall? Not so simple.

Pressing himself forward, Pippigrin made an urgent dash through the atmosphere, the speed of his bolt across the meadow to remain unseen by the normal eye. The hobbit’s speedy dash would not end upon the cliff face of the plateau, instead, he would extend his wings and fly up and over, soon to double-back and aim his sightless speed towards the enemy. All in a matter of short moments the halfling had managed to zip out from the claws of the blood-stained beast, topple over the cliffside and return with a swooping vengeance within his own slip stream of pure speed. The chill of the wind against his flesh provided a strange but wonderful cooling sensation upon his wound, but would never dull the pain enough; still, for now, he would soldier on.
“HAAAAAAAAAAA” Was his war cry, a rather childish one at that, but it was his own.
Horns bowed and wings angled downwards, Pippigrin allowed his magic to fade upon his descent to allow maximum precision, plotting to crash at full force into the doctor’s nearside shoulder.