The Sunspire I'm offended that you're so surprised

Coelho hadn't strayed very far from Bronte that morning; he was still within audible distance, and she was mindful of that as she picked over a glut of pebbles in concentration. Her ruminations were interrupted as the rustle of grass underfoot announced an approacher -- curiously her long ears canted forward and her sorrel gaze sought out the stranger.

Right away, she noticed the prize dangling in his jaws -- but she was more interested in him. She was struck with the impression he was quite regal, and assuming he was of higher import than she, dropped her head and waved her tail genially. "Hi!" She chirped, her eyes bright with interest.