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Larue
She had watched her dad leave Aisling and herself— curiosity got the best of her (as always), and she had prowled after her peppermint pops with all of her youthful stealth (read: not much). Regardless, her small hooves pranced after Johnny and Jellybean, bright eyes only occasionally being distraction by a potential hole to deepen or branch to hide for others to trip on.
But these distractions did not last long, bright gaze finding the raspberry tip of Jellybean’s ever-wagging tail to prowl after. Finally, after following for what seemed like years, her father finally stopped in the middle of a field and just waited.
Her small head cocked, tiny ears flickering around. All of that slinking for this? Teal eyes narrowed, and her sly gait became purposeful as she strode towards her father, “Whatcha doin’, dad?” her pert, high voice called abruptly across the meadow. Her tail twitched with irritation at the lack of excitement, but it was well-hidden as her sugar-sweet smile crossed her face when she aimed to bump her small muzzle against Johnny’s likewise pink knee.
“Heya, Beans,” her smile grew as she greeted dad’s enthusiastic companion, balancing on her hind legs and seeking to brace her knobby knees against dad’s side so that her muzzle might reach out and gently (or not-so-gently) tug the griffin’s wagging tail with her teeth in greeting. Dropping to her hooves, her tiny head swiveled around, wondering if those blobs she saw approaching were actually other horses or just figments of her imagination— like those her mind played on her when she was braving the Deep Forest.
Suddenly overcome with energy, as foals are wont to do, she bounded away from her father, butt and tail wiggling as she play bowed towards him on long, spindly legs. A playful snort and high pitched whinny escaped her as she waited to see what her dad would do.
But these distractions did not last long, bright gaze finding the raspberry tip of Jellybean’s ever-wagging tail to prowl after. Finally, after following for what seemed like years, her father finally stopped in the middle of a field and just waited.
Her small head cocked, tiny ears flickering around. All of that slinking for this? Teal eyes narrowed, and her sly gait became purposeful as she strode towards her father, “Whatcha doin’, dad?” her pert, high voice called abruptly across the meadow. Her tail twitched with irritation at the lack of excitement, but it was well-hidden as her sugar-sweet smile crossed her face when she aimed to bump her small muzzle against Johnny’s likewise pink knee.
“Heya, Beans,” her smile grew as she greeted dad’s enthusiastic companion, balancing on her hind legs and seeking to brace her knobby knees against dad’s side so that her muzzle might reach out and gently (or not-so-gently) tug the griffin’s wagging tail with her teeth in greeting. Dropping to her hooves, her tiny head swiveled around, wondering if those blobs she saw approaching were actually other horses or just figments of her imagination— like those her mind played on her when she was braving the Deep Forest.
Suddenly overcome with energy, as foals are wont to do, she bounded away from her father, butt and tail wiggling as she play bowed towards him on long, spindly legs. A playful snort and high pitched whinny escaped her as she waited to see what her dad would do.
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