The psithurism upon each feather created a most curious kind of chorus, one you'd expect to hear from a sail upon the wind or vestment fluttering in the breeze. It was the sea wind itself that created the barrage upon the hobbit's pennons, causing a slapping, wind-ripping noise as the halfling turned his rudder-like pennons down toward the coast, eyes of crystal and ice set upon the shore where a call for fun and games had stolen his attention. With the wolverine cub gripping his down feathers and riding between his wings on a saddle-like patch of fluff, Pippigrin had kept his flying slow and steady; No zooming, no zipping, and certainly no Flimsypoppers*. Already they had had a few near misses, and they were always one Flimsypop away from Brandybuck jam.

Altitude declining, the half-sized pegasus was quick to spot the woman of ember and onyx; his opponent.
"Hay!" The gentleman cooed after he had swooped in to meet her, soon to reach out with both front hooves and land upon the sand at a distance of what he would assume was twenty to thirty feet. "I'll spar ya!" was his next bellow, brows narrowing as the confidence brewed within his puffed chest. Equipped with both leg guards and his sling shot, Pippigrin was just about ready to go were it not for the googlie-eyed cub sitting upon his withers, gripping his wing as he keeled over in an attempt to harness a better look at the stranger. The guardian would certainly not fight with this young fellow, so much to the wolverine's despair the halfling lowered his left wingtip to the sand, creating a ramp for the fellow to trudge off of.
After some coaxing and some back and fourth nips from the stubborn pup, Pippin had managed to usher his bonded to safety, but not before he had managed to pluck a piece of coral from the ground and hold it towards the hobbit's slingshot.
Ammo, the hobbit though as he took it between his teeth.

"Ready!?" Pip would come to squeak, stepping backwards in order to maintain the distance of around twenty feet. Shaking his trusty slingshot from his horns and jamming it tightly into the brace upon his foreleg, Pippin's lips curved into a sly smile (one he was trying to hide with great difficulty). Loading the coral into it's pouch with his mouth, the hobbit gave a sweet giggle as he pulled back to aim at her nose, a plan only just coming to mind. The lad pushed his energy forward, ready to invoke his magic of light, of wind, of speed.
PING!

The slingshot was fired, though, it's bullet would not likely reach the target before Pippigrin.
Shooting across the sand at inconceivable speed, the stag plotted to place himself on the woman's left side, allowing his magic to cool and subside as he leapt forward whist craning his muscular, sweat sheened neck. The lad's plot was to land his horns down upon her left hip, rendering it useless for the rest of the fight if he could.