Khoshekh lurks at the edge of a flower patch, his dark eyes following a butterfly with predatory intensity. The decorative little insect sits on top of a yellow flower, wings fanning slowly, lazily. The autumn air is brisk, a gentle, chilly breeze ruffling the fuzzy mane and stubby little tail, but Kho is unbothered by the cold. He is too fixated on the butterfly to notice.

His little hooves take a step, as quiet as he can be, but it is not quiet enough. The butterfly abandons its flower. It flutters upward, seemingly only mildly offended at the interruption. The black colt leaps upward, prompting the butterfly to vacate the flower patch altogether. Kho falls back to the earth in a tangle of black limbs and a bruising of ego.

His mood sours only for the briefest moment before the black colt is up on his feet again. There will be more butterflies. His dark eyes target a low-hanging leaf next, bright yellow in a sea of orange-red, dangling tantalizingly close to the ground at the edge of the flower patch. Khoshekh bounds toward it, leaping upwards a second time, landing no more gracefully than his first jump.

Unsuccessful.

The leaf flutters in the breeze, taunting him. Khoshekh scrambles to his hooves and tries again. This time, he lands solidly, but the leaf still dances in the breeze just out of reach. Khoshekh scowls, and prepares to leap yet again, but a rustle behind him halts the black colt before he takes off. His head swivels to look behind him, enormous ears cupped toward the sound, but he can’t quite see who it is.

“Hullo?” he asks, turning his body to face the source of the sound, fuzzy little tail wagging with excitement and curiosity.