Owin's eyes opened wide in surprise when Popinjay pushed him away from the never ending hole. He could hear as they backed away dirt and earth eroding and crumbling away from the side where they stood down into the downward tunnel, following their nut and rock. He smiled warmly at Popinjay as if to say thank you, not that he had any intention of jumping in but her concern was not something Owin had expected.
Quickly her eyes and her mind wandered towards the massive trunk standing tall, despite on it's side, beside the hole they had just inspected. She questioned whether he thought they could get up there and he looked around for anything that might suggest that they could. The trunk was wider than the two of them combined, but seemed shorter the longer you followed it down, close to the edge of the ravine. She didn't really want to try and tackle that did she? What if she slipped a d fell into the hole OR the ravine?
Owin took a gulp as his eyes wondered back to Popinjay and he gave her a small shrug of his shoulders. Even if we could, would it be safe?
@[Popinjay]
Is it safe?
Owin’s question lingers in her ears, but Popinjay is loath to think on it too much. Althought the black and wet cavern yawning at their feet concerns her, she is eager to climb the tree, eager to walk across the bridge of the tree, to be blown by the wind that tosses the Taigan fog into its dance over the ravine. She snorts, scoffing at his worry, blowing it it out of her mind in a noisy rush of air, and then angles a grin at him that says nothing about caution or discretion.
“Plenty safe!” Indeed, the trunk is wide enough that they could walk side by side and still have room, such is the giant nature of the redwood trees. And though it narrows at the other end, it doesn’t do so significantly enough that their added weight is likely to cause the slightest stir. Her mind is made up. It was made up ages ago, the only matter is to find the way. Even running, it’s too high for a straight jump up, but Popinjay is an avid climber, her skills honed on the rock caves scattered near the Taigan boundaries, and so she traces the edge of the tree, head cocked to one side in thought. Carefully, she skirts the mouth of the cavern, and on the other side, the gnarled roots of the aged tree, some still deep in the earth, form a tangled staircase for nimble feet. She strikes the wood with a forefoot, testing it, nicking the thick bark and thinks that Owin could maybe climb this, if he wanted to. He got up those rocks, after all.
She peeks back around the exposed root ball where the gold and blue colt stands, ears pressed forward and eyes bright with her plans.
“We can get up on this side, Owin! But you don’t have to come with, if you don’t want, cuz we’ll be awfully high up.” And with that, she pulls her head back out of sight and, squealing, charges the side of the tree, small hooves scrambling on the slick wood, slipping, scuffing knees and balancing off her nose until, at last, she crawls, puffing heavily, atop the fallen tree. It had been more work than she let on, but she says nothing of that to Owin. The height makes her giddy, at its base, she is nearly twenty feet off the ground. Even here, the vibration of the wind makes the wood tremble softly.
Heart fluttering, Popinjay steps forward, placing her steps slowly, carefully, until she stands just at the edge of the ravine underneath. The wind ruffles her mane, snatching at it greedily, pulling the air away even as her nostrils try to draw it in, giving the faintest feeling of suffocation. It whistles in her ears and deafens her to the usual sounds of Taiga, no longer does she hear the gentle rustle of the breeze in the leaves and ferns, or even Owin’s voice, below. Her eyes are full of the ravine and her head full of the feeling of soaring. Popinjay She was not quite what you would call refined
It's time. she thought, time to intercede Popinjay and her wild ideas. Though she knew Owin to be more cautious than his sister she did not expect him to talk her down from her wild notions. She had been watching the two from the edge of the forest. On a couple occasions she had almost revealed herself, like when Popinjay advanced on the ravine and when Owin and her got a little to close to the giant cavern left by the fallen tree. She had stopped herself when Popinjay moved Owin away in concern, but when Popinjay disappeared around the other side and then in one found herself ontop of the tree bridge itself she had had it.
As Owin moved around to follow Popinjay she trotted away from the trees and into the opening to where Owin, with large eyes, was inspecting the tangled, rooted staircase Don't even think about it. she scolded softly with stern eyes. Owin backed away nodding. With out thought or hesitation Lethy scrambled up the slick tree, which was a less harder feat then it had been for Popinjay.
When she got to the top she advanced on Popinjay. Popinjay, she yelled across the buzzing wind. Her ears flattened against her skull as her voice rang sternly across the distance.Do not take one more step. Turn around and get back here. Where Lethy's voice was always soft, nurturing, and understanding now it was harsh, stern, and still motherly in her scolding. Her purple eyes stared a shade darker at the girl for her impetuous actions. Let's go.. now. forget me not; but never remember Lethy 
@[Popinjay] oop, mama's come to yell.
She doesn’t hear Lethy coming, doesn’t hear her climb atop the tree, but each hoof-strike vibrates against her sensitive frogs and pulls her attention away from the misty crevice with its thorns and ferns and black water. She peers back, ears flicking forward to see the buckskin mare advancing on her stern and demanding, concern lacing the harshness of her voice. Concerned about what? She should see! They should all see from so high! Intoxicated with the adrenaline, she answers with a nicker, calling an invitation to the golden mare to come see what she sees, to feel the whipping wind. She draws back a few paces so she can better hear the mare that took her in, her adoptive mother, and she looks down at Owin, looking even smaller from up above, for all that he is growing larger and faster than she does. His face speaks volumes. Mum has not come to see the sights. Her sparkling gaze turns back to Lethy as the mare orders her back.
And then, rebellion flares in her chest.
Even as the dark filly takes another step towards Lethy, she is turning, first an ear, then the angle of her nose. She does nothing to hide her intentions, nose turned, she squeals and spins, slate-grey hooves cutting a small circle into the bark underfoot and then Popinjay darts forward, fleet-footed and sure, flinging herself towards the edge along the great wide bridge of the tree. She was too fast for Lethy to grab, too fast for Owin’s burgeoning mind reading to warn against. Before he can speak, she is out of reach, is running hard, small hooves pressing into the bark, drumming rhythmically, a sound that finds traction in the wood and then expands out, echoing through the crack in the earth that opens suddenly beneath her, trumpeting her dash for freedom.
The wind rushes up to meet her, then, her coat blown left and right, up and down, it grabs her growing tail in short streamers and her curled forelock lifts from the bright star on her brow like a cork-screw horn, dancing merrily. Before she can even think, she is halfway across, and here, she stops, the trunk still wide enough that she can turn with ease, her small feet finding grip in the seams of the fallen giant. She tosses her head and gambols, her laugh is breathless as it flies from her lips and is carried away in the wild swell of the air which wraps around her, teasing her into wildness.
Popinjay She was not quite what you would call refined
@[Izora Lethia] Sorry, the DiscordBot has spoken XD
Had she been anyone else her patience might have grown thin by now with the boisterous Popinjay, but she liked to think she understood. She did not remember much of her childhood from before her parents gave their lives up for hers, but she likes to think she could have been just as carefree.
Before the fear had set in. Before the anxiety had devoured her.
She was not a young filly anymore though, no she was a mother to Owin and she likes to think to Popinjay as well, she cared for her just as much in any case.
So when Popinjay turns suddenly, even though all body language suggested that she would, Lethy's heart drops to her stomache as she wat hed the young girl dash across the log into the middle of nothingness. Despite the fear that tangles itself into every nerve in her body, Lethy follows after her slowly. Her eyes lock on Popinjay, refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead until she reaches her.
The wind had tangled into her forelock, pulling the dark cover away from her brilliant white star, and a smile traces Lethy's lips. Despite the motherly anger that had taken root deep in her gut, and the irritation that had settled in her eyes, a softness smooths the roughness as she takes in the pure joy that emulates from her adopted daughter.
Her voice, though loud enough to carry itself to the girls ears, comes gently with understanding. Popinjay, your star is shining brightly in this moment. It is a brilliant thing to face everything the way you do with so much certainty, but if something were to happen to you or Owin... I would never be able to forgive myself. the sadness of such realization clouds her amethyst eyes. She had already lost one of her babes, her first daughter, she could not do it again. All it would take is one small misstep. If it is the sky you long for you can have it. If it is to breath fire, it is possible. If it is to shift into a bird and take flight...... Please come off of this carcass of a tree and we can talk about it. She would tell her more about the mountain, of the magic that flowed through Beqanna, even take her there if that was what it would take to get her down. forget me not; but never remember Lethy
@[Popinjay]
For a moment, the filly is flying, eyes closed and air rushing against her face, and then she feels the gentle thrum of hooves treading carefully on wood, coming near her, and those dark eyes flutter open wide, glossy with excitement.
“ Lethy!” Popinjay turns and hops nimbly forward, meeting the buckskin halfway. She can feel the stiffness and tension that grips her mother’s body, and counters it with her own suppleness, curling against her like a cat. The filly whuffs softly at the concern that make’s Lethy’s voice tight, as if she could ever fall, but the sadness of her words tickles in her ears and pulls her heart back to earth. The dark youth is not terribly accustomed to considering the emotions of those around her, she is selfish, as children often are, but empathy stirs in her belly, and she lifts her soft muzzle to brush against a warm, golden, shoulder in a wordless apology for causing the mare to worry.
Not for bolting across the tree, though.
For that Popinjay is unapologetic, and, standing quietly, her shoulder pressed firmly against Lethy’s, she peers over and down, the wind gusts causing her eyes to tear and run. It isn’t the sky or breathing fire that she wants, not specifically. No, the dark filly wants everything. Not with an ambitious, power-mad drive, but rather the longing that makes someone climb a mountain for no reason. She wants adventure.
“Nothing is gonna happen to me or Owin,” she says, with the blind faith of childhood, ignoring the obvious danger of standing on a tree overlooking a mysterious crack in the earth, “I’m not gonna fall, I never fell from this high.”
Of course, she also hasn’t ever been this high before. Perhaps this, among other things, is why her assurances seem to have no effect on the tension rippling across the buckskin's skin, and so, with a soft nod of agreement, she acquiesces to Lethy's request. Peering around the mare's chest to where Owin was last standing, she grins and snorts, and then turns for the opposite bank at a brisk walk.
Popinjay She was not quite what you would call refined
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