The little lion man trundled across the dunes, hoof prints peppering the landscape behind him in a perfect line. From his nest he had scurried, anxious to begin his duties as a new warrior of the Dragon’s Throat!
His first night in the sand-swept island had been a most productive one having spent his evening building a nest from fallen palm leaves, papyrus and various grasses. Because a comfortable home and roaring hearth was of great importance to most hobbits, it would take Pippin a great deal of time to acclimatise to his new surroundings. After all; it was only the day before that he beheld a desert for the first time.

When his stone-coloured hooves hit the beach his wobbly wings sprung into position, flaying outwards and beating with far less precision than they ought to. It was a bumpy start, though, eventually, the half-sized horse managed to push himself up into the drizzly air in preparation to soar over the rainy channel.
The stone-child’s mind would always wonder to the creatures that dwelled beneath the waves, for he was quite sure that the sea’s depth was as endless as the sky and heavens above. What on earth lurks below? he often wondered. Krakens, giant squid, Ningens. The possibilities were endless and, in short, Pippigrin was terrified of the ocean.

It was as he warily glided over that navy bed of fear that he spotted a slender figure on the beach below, right where he planned on landing for his patrol; An intruder!?
His first task was set, he would be the Dragon’s Throat warrior of the day! Operation Suss-Out-That-Sneaky-Sod!
“Oi!” The hobbit chortled from a similar altitude to that of a palm trees tallest point. “excuuuuuse me!” came next, this time much less of a bark and more of a tease.

Beating his wings in such a way that he suspected was quite fearsome (though, was probably quite the opposite), the mighty warrior rose to the challenge by puffing his chest as far as his lungs could stretch and leant back into his wings so he would remain upright in the air.
“What d’y’think yooooou’re doin’? Walkin’ around all sneaky-like!”  

He wished he could just go for it. Swoop in and attack or land and attempt a beautifully executed kick. But he’d never swooped anyone in his life. Nor kicked anyone.
He wished to be a warrior, He wished terribly to match the heroes of old. He wanted to be like Mr. Gaucho! But Pippin knew not how to kick, nor swoop - he hardly knew how to fly.

So how and why he attempted such a treacherous move would be beyond most.
Chewing upon his bottom lip and sucking in the greatest of breaths though his minuscule nostrils, Pippigrin aimed for the woman’s ribs and begun a powerful descent by dropping his weight into his front end and allowing his wings to glide down, down and down. The small creature attempted to swoop her with all his might, trying to aim the two rams horns upon his head into the left side of her rib cage with any kind of precision or talent he might have.