Pippigrin!

Like the vibrant chorus of a gong, Volterra's call had wafted easily into the sleeping ears of the hobbit. Flicking against the urgent grunt of the Sultan, a stone-coloured ear turned towards the sound of the voice as the rest of Pip rolled onto his back, legs hoist over his silver tummy.
Licking his lips and snuggling deep into the oasis grass, Pippigrin's mind wandered through the trance of sleep to the bellowing sound he had heard just moments ago.
Pippigrin.
Hmm.
That's my name.
Fancy that.
Sounds like Mr. Volterra.
What would Mr. Volterra want with-

"YES?" he cried, hurling himself upwards with a beat of his sleepy wings.
The pony leapt from the grass, shaking his coat and pennons as he searched his surroundings for the black reaper of a stag; the indomitable Sultan of their sands.
A hobbit was always late, but he was not over-the-hill anymore. Helovians may not appreciate tardiness.
"YES!" He screeched once again as his pitter-pattering feet took him madly trotting away from the oasis, wings flared and loose feathers flying. The wind tore at his ears as he took off, and soon it was one of the only sounds he could hear. The violent swooshing, yet ripping sound it made was one he actually adored, but not the fact that it generally drowned all other sounds out.

Both wind and gravity pushed against his small body as he circled his home, looking for any sign of his hefty monarch, whom was eventually spotted in a vast expanse of sand.
"Aaah! Mr. Volterra sir!" He called from high above. "Found you! Are you ready to fight?" Pippigrins chest flared vibrantly with excitement, his breaths escaping through an agape mouth instead of his nose as he tread his wingbeats evenly over the air to stay up high, but without moving too far at all.

"I-I'll go first, okay. Are you ready?!" The hobbit squeaked, head and neck craned as he tilted his shoulders back so that he then stood up-right in the air. Perhpas it wasn't such a great idea to let his opponent know he was going to attack, but Pippin really didn't know any better.
Just like last time, the nerves caught him. The smile fell from his face as he deliberated and calculated his moves.
Convinced he would always strike better from above, Pip settled on a swooping attack - it was one he felt confident in actually doing damage with. Anything else he was convinced would feel like a flea bite to someone so huge.

"Will you... uh... can you... count me in?" the little one cooed down to the Sultan, his nerves still getting the better of him. But he couldn't wait, not even for a one, two, or a three. He had to go now.

Switching his weight from his back end to his front was the hardest part, but once he was diving his speed only gained and gained. His aim was not perfect, nor was his technique, but still the tiny creature prevailed.
Pippigrin had dived, tucking all four of his legs as close to his belly as they could fit and stretched his head and neck out in an effort to gain speed. His wings were outstretched, though folded at the tips to control his descent; when he wished to ascend once more, then they would flare and up he'd go. But not yet.
He was close to Volterra now, he was sure of it. Craning his neck and tucking his head downward, Pippigrin attempted to ram the goliath upon impact. The unlikely warrior then let his wings out to their full expanse in an attempt to send himself upwards and out of the attack once complete.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHH" He had screamed upon what he hoped was impact with the great Sultan (and not the sand below).