Sleepy Fox Hollow This love is gettin' kind of dangerous

the sun crested the rim of the hollow like a golden crown, and pippin wore it proudly.
wobbly legs no longer buckled beneath him—they sprang. they launched. every jump sent dust puffing up around his pale hooves as he tore crooked little circles through the grass, tail a fuzzy banner behind him, ears too big for his head flicking wildly with every bound.
ma! he belted, voice cracking sharp like a colt much older than his days.
he kicked his hind legs out behind him in a flurry of joy and nonsense, nearly tripping over himself, then caught balance again with a snort and a shake of his head.
ma, did you see that?!
he didn’t wait for an answer. already lifting into another half-hop, half-buck, already winded, already thrilled.
a clump of flowers met his teeth as he stumbled into a graze mid-gallop. he snorted it out and pranced sideways, gangly and proud, circling back toward @Selenia with wide eyes and wild steps.

<3!

pippin was as irritating as he was adorable, though selenia thought she knew why her colt's antics were so exasperating.

her body's hormones were changing as the mare prepared to conceive a third foal. fancy's own cycle had quickened that of selenia, though she would not come close until the proper moment arrived.

colosseum, while nice to look at, was not welcome so intimately. not yet.

pippin's piping little voice received an amused snort in spite of his mother. "i saw. you're getting very good at jumping. so come on," she whickered, leading him a small ways off from the herd. "let's race. show me how fast you can go."

wear him out before bedtime, yes, the equivalent of setting a small child free at a large playground.

pippin’s ears shot up like tiny flags, his whole body jolting with the thrill of her words.
race? he gasped, nearly tripping over his own shadow.
his rump wriggled with excitement, legs stamping the dirt in place.
then she moved—and he squealed, spinning on his hocks to chase her like a windstorm wrapped in fur.
ma! i’m comin’! he hollered, all breath and bounce, his hooves drumming a lopsided rhythm behind her.
he surged forward with all the power his twiggy legs could muster, tail flying, nose outstretched like he might catch the wind in his teeth.
i’m fast! i’m fast! he whooped, his voice cracking with joy as he nearly collided with her hip, then darted ahead—just barely, just once—victory pulsing in his little chest like a drumbeat.

a rock tripped him.
he flailed, recovered, and kept going.

no fall could stop him now.
not when he was racing his ma.

he certainly was fast, though he'd be faster once he learned to use all his breath for running. selenia kept her pace, even slowed it a little — oh, no. she was hurrying again, but pippin was fine, sailing ahead.

hardy little thing. she was proud of him, that emotion standing proud in her dark eyes.

still worried he'd bruised himself, selenia soon caught up, gait even at his side and neck arched, slowly guiding her colt in a wide arc back toward the herd.