Dawnlark Plains thought gasoline was on my clothes

Perhaps unknown to her--but unlikely, since somehow the child made as much noise as a bull elephant, crashing over the hills--Timberlake was not far behind his cousin, wobbling a little precariously on legs he was still getting used to. He came over a small rise, amber eyes fixed on the young woman. A smile cracked his muzzle; his tongue lolled from his mouth, panting away the heat.

Because it--was--hot! Even with his downy fuzz, yet to grow into the fluffy pelt that would plague him through every summer from here on out, Timberlake was a little miserable. Maybe Dawn had the right idea, staying still like she was. The problem was that he couldn't stay still. It'd be like pushing a ball down a hill then asking it to stop rolling. It was just physics. Balls didn't stop, and neither did children.

With infectious energy, he bounded toward Dawn's silvery shape, intending to pounce on her tail. He'd chew on it a bit, then get bored, most likely. He hadn't spent too much time with Dawn--his constant companions were his siblings and Mommy and Daddy--but he wanted to get to know her better. She reminded him a lot of Daddy, especially.

"Hiiiii!" Timberlake cried out, sailing through the air with dead aim at the tip of Dawn's tail. He would land directly on it, if she didn't move--and if she was smart at all, she would do so, immediately.