A part of Catalina is certain that she should fear this stallion. The first moments they had ever spent together had been tainted by the memory of bloodshed as he and her beautiful mama fought, and the moments that followed had been saturated in her mother's fear and anger when they departed from the only home that Cat had ever known. And yet such things could not be further from the truth.

This papa was so full of warmth and excitement and novelty that she could not bear to do anything but squeeze as much joy from this interaction as she could. This was her papa, and she knew that she would have scarce moments to enjoy his company before mama would inevitably come and chase him away again. It was something she always did when papa got close. And if she was not feeling strong enough to do it herself, something she always bid Fuego to do on her behalf.

She listens avidly to him as he speaks, but the words he offers are not ones that she knows well and she works to translate his beautifully accentuated english into the lilting language of her mother. Switch had made sure that her daughter knew both, of course, not wishing any handicap upon her daughter, but in the sanctuary of each other, the dark mare rarely found the need to speak English. Confusion wrinkles her brow until the meaning clicks into place, and glee spreads across her face at the realization that he had a game in mind. Chase was something she was familiar with, good at even, if you counted her matches against the lizards of the Dunes.

And then she realizes just where her papa is pointing and she darts in front of him, rising up into a half rear to butt her knees against her chest and rest her face against his own. If they ran that way, it was only a matter of time before her mother heard them and came running to spoil the fun. "No papa," she insists, barely bothering to listen to the rest of his little speech. Peering at him from beneath the baby fringe of her forelock, she hesitates to make sure that he registers her disagreement (although ignoring the child standing face to face with you probably left little room for him missing her point) before dropping back to her hooves and trotting beneath his nose to face away from where her momma rested.

"Por aquí,This way," she says imperiously, casting a devilish smirk back at him. "Mamá no wake," she explains, before pointing in the opposite direction of where he'd gestured. "You count?"

She skitters away from him, still dripping wet, and prances in place, her soggy tail held aloft.

mare // paso fino // black // 14.3hh // lagoon // loveinspired