She had not seen the rabbits when she came trotting through the small tree-ringed meadow to find mother-and-son. Surely, they saw her, and laid low to the ground, slinking back to their dens in the awkward, rocking, gait rabbits take when moving slowly. If she had spotted them, mostly likely the filly would have let them go, would have been happy to let these ones pass for the time being. She would only pretend that they were not there at all and should have no reason to avoid her.
But she does not think these things, because she does not see them, the new colt has taken up her attention for now. He talks quite a lot, but this does not bother her, though it is odd for a newborn. What is oddness to Popinjay, bright and ready for the world? It never occurs to her that reading her mind is a special trick. It never occurs to her that the world doesn’t revolve around her entirely, and so it is perfectly natural to Popinjay that @[Owin] knows what she has been up to all day, even though he has no right to that knowledge. She nods solemnly in response. Next time. She will get them next time, definitely.
“Of course I will!” She exclaims, because, of course she will! There was never any doubt in the bay’s mind about it and so she requires no bolstering from the colt… her brother? Although they are not blood, he calls her Sister. It is Lethy that ties them together, of course, and again, she does not question his knowledge because of course he knows this. Everybody knows that the purple-eyed mare took in the foundling Popinjay, and although the little bay filly’s family ties are loose and liquid like the rest of her, she has maintained a close tie to the gentle mare. She does not mind being called Sister.
With a laugh like bells, she pulls her muzzle from Owin’s and dances a merry circle around him, ending with a snort and a stomp and a firm nudge to his angular flank.
“I’m tired of chasing rabbits, let’s do something else,” she says, tossing her head wildly then racing off with a shouted “come on!”
But she does not think these things, because she does not see them, the new colt has taken up her attention for now. He talks quite a lot, but this does not bother her, though it is odd for a newborn. What is oddness to Popinjay, bright and ready for the world? It never occurs to her that reading her mind is a special trick. It never occurs to her that the world doesn’t revolve around her entirely, and so it is perfectly natural to Popinjay that @[Owin] knows what she has been up to all day, even though he has no right to that knowledge. She nods solemnly in response. Next time. She will get them next time, definitely.
“Of course I will!” She exclaims, because, of course she will! There was never any doubt in the bay’s mind about it and so she requires no bolstering from the colt… her brother? Although they are not blood, he calls her Sister. It is Lethy that ties them together, of course, and again, she does not question his knowledge because of course he knows this. Everybody knows that the purple-eyed mare took in the foundling Popinjay, and although the little bay filly’s family ties are loose and liquid like the rest of her, she has maintained a close tie to the gentle mare. She does not mind being called Sister.
With a laugh like bells, she pulls her muzzle from Owin’s and dances a merry circle around him, ending with a snort and a stomp and a firm nudge to his angular flank.
“I’m tired of chasing rabbits, let’s do something else,” she says, tossing her head wildly then racing off with a shouted “come on!”
Popinjay
She was not quite what you would call refined
