No less than a month after his decision to stick to that north eastern stretch of Helovia (that top spot where folks were about as abundant as an echidna has prickles, yeah), that restless feeling hit Banjo like big ol’ Ularu to the head. He wanted to explore, wanted to meet more of these fantasy, fairytale things spread out far and wide throughout the land; he wanted more mates to kick back with, new tricks - like Brisa’s to challenge his grip on reality, and most importantly the buck wanted to find still bigger and better treats to tempt his tastebuds! Grass all day, everyday was about as mouthwatering as mouldy bread…

Leaping and bounding, as was his own unique method of locomotion (rather like an too-large hare or rabbit hopping along), the long-footed jack moved south, still further than the sprawling meadow which held the oversupply of juicy green grass - enough to give any horse colic. The earth beneath his flying shadow began to dry quickly, as did the pasture thin and grow yellow as the nutrients became less to feed upon. Banjo noticed the change of scenery quickly and began to slow, coming to a halt beneath the gnarled wood skeleton of a tree.

Glossy green eyes narrowed towards it, grooming the gleaming grey surface with rising interest.

There was a spur of sorts about one quarter of the way up its length, and to the resourceful creature, this would serve as the perfect backscratcher - the itch of course (murphy’s law), was perched on the very peak of his withers. He’d been trying in vain to ditch it for days, but alas, it was an impossible feat for oneself. Casually Banjo shifted his eyes left and right, surveying the open area around him for others, witnesses should this radical effort go drastically wrong.

The coast was clear…

All at once Banjo leapt towards the dead tree and turned his back upon it at the very last second. Brawny hindquarters bunched readily as his weight lifted high above, shoulders inching backwards, neck craning also to find any resistance - he just had to get rid of that irritation! The chestnut could feel the cold surface there, but the knob, that delicious protrusion, it just seemed to vanish altogether. “Arrrrgh….” he groaned desperately, wriggling his top half ridiculously around. But it was naught to be found, and he fell again to the ground with a put out snort. “Whatever!” he scolded harshly, comically, turning to glare (and with any luck smite its useless existence in the process).

But it glinted cheerfully as the sunlight kissed its just-out-of-reach tip.

After a final scowl, Banjo turned away and shook heavily beneath a cloud of red dust pluming into the breeze above. The sun had fallen from its thrown anyway, and he smiled smugly, idiotically at the thought; like it was punishment for being a royal pain in the ass, but a sound distracted him suddenly. It was a loud ’hello’, but not the booming voice of an adult anything, he felt. It was more the bold squeak of a rug-rat, and he was instantly intrigued. Gathering his peculiar body beneath, the horsaroo ‘lumped’ towards the younger being (or the spot he imagined they’d be), and was surprised to find the gold? blue? tail of what, he wasn’t sure, waggling on his side of a cave’s mouth - smack bang in the middle of nowhere.

“Ow ya goin?” he blurted amicably when he got near enough to spy the animal’s tall rump attached. "Secret club house ay, can I play too?"

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Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck
@Hollow @Hera