Bean is shedding with each step; bits of brown that fly off and up into the air. Other remnants catch in the craggiest pits of the tree she scratched her rump against. She even had a sparrow snatch a tuft from her back that made Bean turn her head and snort in response at the intrusive little beak poking into her skin. The poor bird had stabbed just a little deep for the brown girl’s liking, and almost met bared teeth in return.
She couldn’t harm a defenseless little sparrow though and she gave herself a little shake that tore the brown tuft loose and sent the bird up into the air with it’s prize. Bean assumed it was for a nest, so she was glad she could of some help. It made her smile to know that she might have provided a bit of softness for some fortunate eggs. But in thinking of birds, she thoughts of wings and thus, of Blue.
Did he ever fly with those things? She’d have to ask when she went back to the island later. Right now, she rubbed up against another tree to relieve another itch as she started to shed out to surprise surprise - more brown underneath. Bean blended in with the tree trunks and she was just fine with that. Maybe it meant she had tree-sprite far back in her blood. How cool would that be? To be descended from a tree-sprite and that could account for such nutty bland coloring.
It could be argued that she was only nutty in mind and not color. The latter might be more like coffee beans, fresh ground dirt, or unsweetened tea. Bean tried not to describe herself too much, she had no reason to. Brown from head to hoof worked well enough. In fact, she thought she looked rather fetching against the green backdrop big the forest. She smiled and finished her scratching before sauntering down an unfamiliar path.
Bean starts to sing but it’s gibberish to the untrained ear, and maybe even to hers. The noise she makes is not loud enough to roust anything from the bracken around her. A squirrel crosses her path but that’s it. They eye one another for a moment until she bobs head to the small animal and it scurries away, and Bean continues on. However the path ends in a clearing that she soon discovers is already occupied by a colorful bird perched on a branch and a much more colorful horse.
“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
She hadn’t of course and the singing should have given her away long before she set foot into the clearing. Yet the little brown horse lingers, reluctant to go just then.
She hadn’t of course and the singing should have given her away long before she set foot into the clearing. Yet the little brown horse lingers, reluctant to go just then.
@[Oceane]