“It’s just not fair!” moaned Peony. She’d gone with her mother to the Feathers and Rest Spa, where her Aunt Ancile worked for her ‘Uncle’ Forest Feather. While Fireball enjoyed a wing massage, it had fallen to Peony to watch her little cousin, the hippogriff Kestrel.
Kestrel sat in the corner, idly playing with an old set of blocks, handily manipulating them with her precise little talons. Hippogriffs were born from from a union of griffon and pony, Gregor and Ancile in this case. Kestrel’s front half looked much like any griffon, though she bore pony-like eyes, ears, and a tuft of steel-blue mane mirroring their grandfather Cloudhammer’s hue. Kestrel’s rear half, though, replaced the griffon’s lion with the anterior of a pony in light gray in Kestrel’s case. Kestrel’s lion-like tail twitched slightly as she considered the blocks.
“So not fair. I want claws, too! Why couldn’t Mom or Dad be a Griffon…” Peony complained to nopony in particular. Claws would be so useful to an adventurer!
Kestrel cocked her head to one side and stared, unblinking, at Peony. Kestrel was kind of a strange foal. Finally blinking, she trotted over to her cousin.
“Can we go outside?” Kestrel asked of Peony. Peony was ten years older than Kestrel, and to Kestrel, that meant Peony was in charge. Peony was relieved. She was, after all, a pegasus, and not built for being inside for so long, never mind being on the ground.
“Sure! Let’s go!” Peony led the way outside, the sound of Kestrel’s clip-click-clop-click playing lightly in her ears as she was followed. Peony folded her ears, reminded once again about her cousin’s totally cool claws.
It wasn’t too long before the two were wrestling about, Peony being careful with her little cousin, and Kestrel being careful of her talons with her big cousin. The two had, however, attracted company in the form of a floating green blob. Kestrel’s keen eyes saw it first.
“What’s that, Peony?” Kestrel asked, pointing at the gelatinous blob bobbing in mid-air, drifting in their direction. Stray leaves had collected on its surface, evidence of its passage through the woods nearby.
Peony pondered. The thing seemed really familiar, even though she hadn’t seen one of them before. Then it struck her! “Glomph! That’s a glomph!” Peony grinned, proud to remember. “Daddy told me about them. He said they’re only dangerous in pairs.” Peony approached the drifting bag of viscous goop. She could see right through it, though everything was warping with every bobble in mid-air. She crossed to the other side of the creature, Kestrel watching. Then she started making faces through the creature at her cousin. Kestrel giggled. Peony had finally made her laugh!
“I wanna try!” Kestrel proclaimed, bounding to the glomph.
“Kessie, wait-!” called Peony, but only a moment too late.
“Peony! I’m stuck!”
And indeed she was. Kestrel had grasped at the glomph and, in nature’s way of providing for the glomph, she had adhered to the surface. In a panic, Kestrel began clawing at the glomph with her free talon. Every scratch sliced a new furrow in the glomph, but the interior ooze would surface and almost immediately seal the wound . The glomph began trying to settle onto the little hippogriff..
Peony started tugging at her cousin to no avail. She was well and truly stuck to the glomph, who was already starting to poke at Kestrel with its... pokey eating thing. Kestrel kept swiping at it with her foreclaw, the smooth talons refusing to be caught, but not doing any great damage. What else did Dad say about these things? Peony started to cry, but wiped her face with her hooves.
Her hooves. Dad said the glomphs were only dangerous in pairs or more because when you popped them, they’d stick and the others could get you. Kestrel wasn’t cutting a big enough hole at a time to pop them! Peony spread her wings and hopped into the air.
“Peony! Peony, don’t leave!” cried Kestrel.
“Never!” returned Peony as she looped about. Taking aim at the glomph, she dove straight for it, her forehooves out ahead of her. She grit her teeth and closed her eyes a mere moment before striking.
Kestrel’s claws may have pierced the glomph easily enough, but the goop that filled it kept it from oozing empty. Two hooves, however, striking with momentum behind them as well as a greater surface area were more than the poor, mindless beast could handle.
SPLORT!
Peony tumbled across the ground, covered in sticky yuck. Grass pulled free, often bringing a clod of dirt with it, and stuck to the half-grown foal. A little dirt was nothing to the adventurous foal, though, and never mind her impact with the ground. All in a day’s work for an adventurer. Peony stood up, her bird’s nest of a mane gooped out at all angles, her tail matching, and her wing feathers glued together.
Little Kestrel had fared much better, as she had been still during the ordeal. She was covered beak to tail in goop, the sap-like substance slowly trickling down her now-free foreleg. Kestrel blinked, staring at Peony.
“You need a bath.”
“So do you.”
“Think Mama is gonna be mad?”
“Yup. But at least your Mom’s Aun’ Annie. My Mom’s Fireball.”
Kestrel gulped.
“Don’t worry about it, Kessie. I’m older, and it is kinda my fault for bringing us outside. I’ll take the blame.” Peony tried to ruffle Kestrel’s mane, then tried harder to (successfully) get her hoof unstuck from said mane. “Definitely need a bath.”
Two foals, covered muzzle to hoof in sticky green glop, walked back into Feathers and Rest, giggling as each step, be it hoof or claw, made a ‘shmock’ sound on the clean floor.
Ancile, while upset, was far more concerned with making sure Kestrel was okay. Fireball, finally living up to her name, immediately ground Peony for a month with no dessert. Forest Feather, ever one for a more peaceful reprimand, suggested cleaning their mess from the floor (after a nice bath) was enough of a punishment for Peony. Fireball partially yielded, dropping from four weeks to two. Still no dessert, though.
Once that particular piece of drama had passed, and baths taken and the mess cleaned, Peony and Kestrel sat outside, watching the sun set. Peony stared at her hooves.
Kestrel flopped against Peony’s side. “That was scary. But kind of fun.”
Peony smiled and leaned back against Kestrel. It had been scary and fun. If Peony had claws instead of hooves, she might not have thought to pop the glomph, and Kestrel could have been hurt or worse. Claws were still cool, but Peony decided that having hooves was okay, too.
Author's Note
Forest Feather appears courtesy... of himself!
