Perhaps his quest wasn't going to be so easy after all. Yol's nares flared, the dark gray greedily inhaling the purity of the sweetest air. Dark fawn eyes took in the landscape below him as the pegasus flew, his massive wings spread wide, catching the air pleasurably as he glided. Until he caught a downdraft and was sent spiraling down to earth, an altogether unpleasant experience as the ground suddenly hurtled upwards towards brute. Flying was a very elegant and precise art, the art of understanding where thermals cycled and downdrafts waited, the delicate beauty of a fresh morning, the understanding of the deadliest of storms. Of course, such understanding came with long experience, of which the beast had little of. Instinct was a strong hand in this game, and the animal's instinct screeched at him to flap hard and flap strong and escape the downwards pushing hand.

There was a low boom as the stallion slammed his wings down hard, before arching those gray airfoils and bringing them down again. With quite a bit of quick work, he exploded from the downdraft, wings flashing in the dull overhead light. The gray steed alighted upon the snowy earth, which was scattered with limp, dead piles of grass near the roots of the trees. Muttering to himself crossly, Yol swiftly made his way towards that dark forest, where the pine trees' leered and the noble trees with leaves long gone shivered, branches a-cackling in the mornin' wind. En masse, the dark forest was big scowl on the earth, a deep scar, a hideous scab, no matter how pretty or pink-skinned it had been before the fall of winter. As the colt travels, he listens. Indeed, there is a lack of birdsong, but hopefully there is even one left behind. There! No. It is only the low whine of the creek as it slithers under blackened ice. Sparse white light breaks through the canopy, setting the drifts of snow to a dull gleam. Yol can smell the faint scent of fox, but for one as big as he is despite being a colt, such a small beast is of no harm.

"Birds?" His deep voice calls, a slight crack of nerves in them. Where are the birds?

[Sincere apologies for the delay.]

There were few birds that would remain under this blight of cold, but there were some that remained. Strong, stoic, brave and mighty, the blue jay remained.

A whirl of color in this pale landscape as blue rushed through the gray sky. Zipping past the golden dragon, fearless and reckless as ever, three blue jays rushed down to titter around the head of the pegasus, involved in their own games of chase and tag and mischief.

Their wings fluttered like soft kisses around his nose and ears before they were off again, swinging into another segment of these misty trees, daring each other to find another dangerous obstacle to fly towards.

Better follow them before they get too far.

The colt trots closer to the tree trunk, with the curiousity of youth, sniffing the glittering golden scales. It smelled a bit like... hmm... Mirage? Queen Mirage? "Hello there! Will you come help me, lady dragon?" The colt breathed, stepping back, feet going through the crisp white snow. The dragon was so pretty, scales so bright and flashing, eyes so brilliant green. Together, or so he hoped, they could maybe find the missing birds. Turning on the haunches, Yol turned taking a couple of steps, only to hear the twittering birds around his ears. Soft wings tickled his muzzle and brushed his ears, swirling in their small flocks before taking off into the misty trees.

"Wait! Birds, wait!" The colt trotted after them, speeding up when he nearly lost track of them, heavy hooves pounding the ground, until he was closer. "Birds please! I want to do something for you!"

The colt's cries went unheard by the jays locked in their chase, each striving to defeat the other. Their wings cut through the winter air like knives, beaks stabbing into the drag and pull of the wind that threatened to slow them. Breathlessly, the trio whizzed through the bough of a tree with such force the branch swayed behind them, threatening to crack as a large boom echoed afterwards.

Blue flashed against grey skies as the three pulled up, a winner finally decided. The one trilled victoriously while the others squabbled with each other about who came in second. It was only then that they heard the calls of the golden dragon, so like their own in the mimicry, but utter nonsense in the meaning.

Puzzled by this blathering they turned tail and flitted back in the direction of the sound. Excited tweets broke from their beaks as they whirled around the dragon, curious to her link with the horse below and the lack of her teeth in their wings. Braver jays would never be found, but it was intelligence rather than cowardice that often gave one a long life. Jays had a right to fear such a beast, but this rowdy group saw her tones for truth rather than trick.

Amused, they settled down on the horse, each parching on some part of his body.

"Help what?" the winner asked, his voice a jumbled attempt at horse tongue.
"Us fine," a second jay said, interrupted by the third that was about to say the same. The two proceeded to lock into a brief battle on the backside of the horse, still trying to decide which one was in second place.

It was always this way, and would soon spark back into a challenge to re-determine who was first.

The winning jay puffed up and exhaled with exhaustion. After a moment of reconsideration he turned his black eyes to the horse. Hopping onto his head, the jay settled on his forelock for warmth.

"May bee, make game."

The other two jays stopped fighting, excited trills coming from their throats as they too settled on the head of the horse.
"Yes! Game, game!"
"No ties!"

---

You must design a game the three jays can play, where there will be no possibility of a tie.

Just when Yol thought they were gone, the jays came fluttering back, much to his relief. They were brave, or foolish, little things, coming down to perch on his wings and broad back much to his surprise. He caught his breath, holding still, not wanting to scare them off, but there seemed little chance these feathered balls would be afraid of anything. But no- the birds even began to fighting on his back, locking together in a short but fierce squabble before breaking apart, eyes sparkling and breathing heavily. They were rather cute things, the yearling thought to himself, watching them with one big gray-brown eye.

The little bird fluttered up his neck to perch on Yol's broad forehead, nestling down in the yearling's thick forelock. For a funny moment, Yol tried to look at the perching bird, before giving up. Then more tiny claws scratched against his head as the other birds settled upon his head. The colt gave a little puff of surprise. "A game?" He asked. He knew so many games! But his heart sank at the mention of no ties. That would be difficult. For a few minutes he considered the possibilities. Then in the end, he decided on the best choice. Jays were known to be vain little creatures- surely they would like the game, the contest, Yol was choosing for them.

"You fly, quick as you can, to find one shiny thing. Whoever comes back here first wins. But if you guys come back at the same time, then I choose whoever has the shiniest object, and that bird wins the game!" Yol only hoped the birds' would agree. He certainly didn't want to end up going home empty-hoofed!