The tartlet was a streak of yellow barreling across the meadow—“DAD!”—and she showed no signs of stopping as she neared the sitting, slouched form of her pops. He had been sick for ages, and though mom was definitely cooler than the little filly had originally thought, she still wasn’t dad. And mom was always so busy with sneaky, stealthy things…
But now, “DAD YOU’RE UP!” Her shriek was muffled at the end as she careened, full speed, into his sweet, sugary chest. “Heya, Beans,” her greeting to the crazy excited griffin was also muffled by pop’s chest, but she shifted her head so that she could peak a single, bright teal eye at her, rather that it being mashed against Johnny’s chest.
However, slowly the exhilaration of her dad finally being out (or nearly out) of the cave tempered, and she shifted backwards, bright eyes narrowing slightly, “Are you comin’ outta the cave?” Her voice was accusatory to hide the burgeoning hope the grew in her chest and lit up her eyes.
@Johnny