I don't consider myself to be as social as other Brothers or Sisters, but I suppose that one can't help occasionally passing by a fellow Sibling amongst the Masters and Mistresses that crowd the streets. It's like finding a rare gem in a stone, a hunk of precious ore in-between the piles of average rock. There aren't many here, Siblings I mean. Indeed, I hardly know any of them.
When I do find an obscure, new face in the crowd, they'll often have heard of me. I've never understood it, why they know who I am and who my Mistress is. Of course I try to take my apparent fame in stride, but I cannot help but feel misunderstood against the inevitable torrent of questions that they pummel at me.
"How do you deal with her?" they ask, their heads tilted to the side questioningly. "She seems impossible!"
They are, of course, referring to my Pink Mistress.
I don't understand why.
It confuses me greatly why they would think that I'd be unhappy with her. I still cannot yet wrap my head around it.
As I lay here in my bed, I can see her. She's bouncing about with the Little Lord Cream and Little Miss Gold riding upon her back. I roll over onto my belly to view them more clearly. They're all laughing, and I can feel the distinct vibrations of the wood panel floor as my Mistress' hooves collide with the ground.
The air is stale, yet it's being filtered by the freshly opened hole. I can see the night sky from my bed, with all its twinkling lights held up for display. Luna has outdone herself once again.
My eyesight has never been the best, but even I can see the dried tears on the Little Lord and Miss' cheeks. They'd been crying not too long ago, as all of the children of their kind do. My Mistress had only taken them just now, and they're already positively delighted. It's absolutely fascinating to watch her work such magic. Her talent of manifesting such laughter and joy has always served to warm my heart.
It is for that reason that I cannot understand the queries of so many. Is my Mistress irritating to them? I'll admit, she is rather eccentric, but I like that. I had gone through so many uneventful phases in my life that to be greeted by her shining, smiling face is simply making up for the lost time.
She stops now, panting lightly as the two children tumble off of her back onto a soft mat in front of the room’s door. They're still giggling, their chubby legs flailing outwards in excitement. I cannot help but offer a grin at the sight, despite my own self-consciousness towards my disfigured mouth.
My Mistress notices this, and she hops over to my small bed to lean down and face me. A light, flossy bit of her mane dangles in front of her face, teasingly.
Against my own better judgement, I reach up and grab the lock of hair in my toothless mouth.
She squeals happily and bounces about, though I have nothing to worry. I'm not the boastful type, but I do have a rather strong grip when it comes to my mouth. I find myself being flung to and fro from my position on her head, but that doesn't matter.
I am ashamed to admit that I adore biting things, or at least mouthing them to unlock their tastes. You could call me an 'extreme taste connoisseur'. I've tasted most everything, though I do have my favorites. My Mistress' mane is one of these. It has a brittle texture, though quite smooth in terms of its flavor. Absolutely delicious, and well worth the uneven ride that I have to face whenever I take a bite.
She stops, and I unhinge my jaws and plop to the ground as she yells something. I'm not offended, if anything I'm grateful that the ride is over. I can feel my eyes practically spin in my head as she goes to tend to the Little Lord and Miss.
I roll over to my scaled paws and look out the hollow stone’s hole towards the night sky. The view is slightly obscured by the pink curtains billowing inwards, pink like my Mistress, though admittedly not as tasty. It's just as hypnotizing though to watch them. The fabric is thin, as thin as a translucent membrane. The light of the stars just barely bleeds through them, leaving the darkness replaced by a sheath of simplistic pink.
The door clicks, and I blink to snap myself out of my daze. I swear, sometimes I can get so distracted by even the most trivial of things.
Suppressing a frustrated growl, I turn back around and find myself alone in the room. If I strain my ears, I can hear the faint, muffled sounds of my Mistress' hoof-beats against the wooden ground as she rushes down the hallway, probably to put the children to sleep.
It's the same old ritual nowadays. I get up at some early hour in the morning and entertain my Mistress and then I find some way to amuse myself until it's time for bed.
The thought of sleep brings a yawn to my mouth, and I suppress the urge to waddle over and climb back into my cushy bed. As much as I wish for the embrace of Luna, there are some anxieties that must be attended to, namely my claustrophobia.
Without a second thought, I scramble towards the door, making sure that the tips of my claws don’t scuff up the floor. I have to be careful of how I walk in the hollow stone, unlike most Siblings. The Grand Duchess of Blue always makes an angry face at me if I accidentally put things out of order, hence why this environment has always proved to be rather stressful for me.
Thankfully, it's only her that's so bitter of my presence. I've learned how to butter up The Grand Duke of Yellow far more times than I can shake a tail at.
Gurgling in amusement to myself, I look over the doorway and gently press the tip of my snout against one of the smaller panels, nudging it through. Unlike many Siblings, I've learned how to go through some pesky doors in my time. It's all in where you put your weight, apparently.
It's a strange system, as pushing on the right spot leads me to being able to slither under a sort of 'flap' or rubbery type of substance that just falls back into place upon passing through the door. It's completely different as to how Masters and Mistresses get through them, as they utilize the peculiar shining spheres mounted near the middle on the far left or right.
Well, oddness aside, I slide through the secret opening with relative ease, careful to make sure that no one is observing my antics from afar. The last thing that I want is to have myself discovered, especially by The Grand Duchess of Blue.
She and The Duke are no doubt in their chamber at this hour, so I have little to worry as I crawl my way down the dimly lit hall. Cautiously, I keep sure that my claws press against a softer portion of the ground as to muffle any signs of my presence. You can't be too careful, after all.
My heart sinks as I reach the most challenging of my obstacles to the outside world: The Jagged Cliffs. Every Sibling knows that The Jagged Cliffs are a phenomena not to be taken lightly. They're an unnatural breed of terrain that only the most hardened of souls can manage to master.
Stifling a gulp, I step forward to the edge of the first precipice and take care to not look down. To not look down is the key to overcoming them, as every experienced Sibling knows.
Slowly, very slowly, I stretch out a foot and make my way downwards. It's a little awkward to maneuver, as my reptilian body isn't as built to take on steep inclines. Still, I at least manage to stumble my way downwards in a manner that an ignorant Master or Mistress might call 'graceful', when in reality I'm simply letting myself fall from one cliff to the next.
I'm slightly battered as I finally reach the bottom. No doubt I'll gain a rather large purple splotch on my belly in a little while, but that's a matter to be worried about later.
After pausing to make sure that I'm not being followed, I crawl across the main chamber towards the final door. This room, and all of the other rooms down here have a different scent entirely from the set up above. They smell sweet, detectible with just a hint of caramelizing sugar and crusted cakes. By contrast the higher set of rooms smell more of freshly washed linen and musk. It's odd considering how poor my sense of smell is, but perhaps I've simply grown accustomed to it in my time here.
Salivating, I take the time to snuff at the air as I scuttle to the door. There's a small splash of sugary icing on the ground, and I take a detour in my beeline path to lick at it. I have my priorities, after all, and tasting is one of the higher ones.
As I grate my tongue against the floor, I can hear a faint scratching against the final door coupled with the distinct clicking of freshly trimmed claws.
"Brother! Brother!" a whining voice yips from outside, and I watch as a coal black nose is shoved against the bottom crack of the door, snuffling noisily. "You're here! I smell you! You're here!"
"Sister Winona?" I tilt my head to the side and toddle forwards. "Is that you?"
"Yeah!" she barks, and I can hear her lithe body thump continuously against the the barrier, as if believing that she might be able to pass through.
A pang of worry lodges itself into my heart, and I snap my head towards the upper chambers to ensure that the cacophony isn't heard. "Quiet, Sister!" I hiss sharply, commanding in my tone.
The noises stop, and I can practically hear the gears and cogs churning in her brain. It's a little pitiful, really. Dogs have a habit of being somewhat simple-minded, though it's safe to say that their undying loyalty practically makes up for their lack of a proper frontal lobe.
"Sit, Sister Winona," I order, smirking as I hear her bottom slap against the hard rock of the porch. "I'm going to open the door, okay? Then I'll come out and we can talk as much as you'd like."
There's no answer, but that's to be expected. Sister Winona is one of the more obedient canines that I've been acquainted with, which is certainly a good thing. Her silence is perfect for the more complicated trick that I have to perform.
I've only found a few passable flaps in doorways, and the location for the one here remains to be a mystery to me. Perhaps only certain doors have them; it doesn't really matter. Besides, I have another trick hidden in my paw.
Without any hesitation, I bunch my hind legs and leap upwards as high as I possibly can as to latch my mouth around the shiny knob that Masters and Mistresses are so accustomed to using. It tastes awful, like dirty metal and rusty coins. I resist gagging as I test the strength of my grip.
It's a little slippery, but it would be even worse if I had budding teeth. Thankfully my gums can mold themselves around the knob's peculiar shape, making it easier for me to swing my weight around and turn it open.
I would be lying if I said that I was modest about this particular ability of mine, and that I had no desire to display it for my Mistress. To do so would, of course, be completely foolish on my part.
I cringe as the door loudly creaks upon being opened, though the sound is certainly not loud enough to alert my caretakers. As soon as I can feel the night breeze I drop myself down to the ground with a heavy thud and press my snout to close the door behind me. The whole process takes less than a minute, though the aftermath is always physically taxing on my part.
Even so, I feel a small rush of egotistical pride as I notice Sister Winona's dumbfounded stare. She's sitting on her haunches, her tail wagging slowly as her pink tongue lolls from her jaws.
"How'd you do that, Brother?" she questions wonderingly. She shivers as she gingerly gets up to shove her nose under the door frame, ears ticking to the sides of her fluffy skull in thought.
"Magic," I answer simply. It would be impossible for me to explain the complexities of a door to her, even if I feel a little awful for using the cop-out answer that I use so often with her.
As she examines it further, I take a moment to step off the stone porch and observe my surroundings. There's a full moon tonight, which blankets the outside world in a pure, cream colored light. There are a few remaining lights on here and there in some of the hollow stones, but even they aren't enough to break Luna's masterful darkness.
I take a deep breath, relishing the strong odor of the dampened earthy clay beneath my paws. It's a wonderful sensation, certainly better than the stale air inside my hollow stone.
"Brother?" Sister Winona walks over to my side and sits next to me, panting softly. "Whatcha been up to?" she asks.
"Me?" I'm touched by her question, though dogs are usually overly friendly types, even with strangers. "Well, I've been more or less inside recently. The Pink Mistress has been busy taking care of The Little Lord and Miss recently, you know." I turn to her. "What of you?"
"Chasing!" she yelps, her tail swishing back and forth. "Lots of chasing!"
"Uh huh... chasing what?" I prod gently.
For long, uncomfortable pause Sister Winona doesn't say anything in reply, simply preferring to stare ahead and keep up with her soft, rhythmic panting. I wonder if she's trying to think up an adequate response, and I shift uneasily back and forth.
"Sister Winona?"
"You talk too much." She laughs lightly, much to my own annoyance. Still, I can't help but pity her ignorance. Poor thing must be confused as sin.
"Did you come to visit me?" I ask curiously. "Or were you just loitering around?"
"Oh, visiting." She rolls back her chocolaty brown shoulders nonchalantly. "I missed you, so I waited till you came out all day... I chased too, but mostly waited," she rambles easily.
"Have you seen Brother Tank recently?" I had missed seeing my airborne reptilian friend for some time since the whole fiasco with The Blue Mistress.
"Mm? Nah. Nope. Not in a long while," Sister Winona replies. She gets up and leans downwards to stretch out her spine, yawning widely.
To a dog, 'a long while' could be nothing but a few minutes, so I know not to trust an answer like that. Sister Winona is a sweet dog, of course, but still a dog.
"What're we gonna do, Brother?" she asks, bouncing up and down as she trots around me in a neat little circle. "We gonna go somewhere? I waited all day!"
"Well..." I'm at a loss, mainly due to my own immobility as I helplessly gaze about at all the endless hollow stones around me. My own range of accessibility is pretty scarce on account of my more water driven form. Then again, Sister Winona is a beast more suited to a land-bound environment.
That thought brings an idea to my head, and I turn to Sister Winona with a hopeful smile. "Say, Sister?"
"Mm?" She looks at me with her dark, peppercorn eyes, her head tilted in blank curiosity.
It takes a lot of explaining, but thankfully no persuasion to get Sister Winona to let me grab hold of her tail in my jaws without her panicking and throwing me off. Eventually though, after much arguing and disagreement over where to go we find ourselves traveling towards the 'park', as Sister Winona calls it.
I concentrate on the taste of canine fur to relinquish the chaotic battering that the soft underside of my belly takes against brittle rock and packed dirt. I cannot but feel that I'm in for a long night.
If there is one thing that I could advise a prospective taster, anyone that feels inclined to take on the task of nibbling at every morsel that the world has to offer, I would tell them that dog fur is the absolute worst possible thing to latch onto for an extended period of time. It truly is wretched, and it only took a moment for me to realize that as I held onto Sister Winona's tail for dear life, whipping back and forth as she races down the trampled pathways amongst the hollow stones.
As always, I close my eyes as to not be disorientated by all the fleeting lights and spinning surroundings, all the while resisting the urge to gag. Sister Winona's fur tastes much more akin to grease and dirty sweat than the flossy sweetness of my Mistress' fur. It's apparent that she hadn't bathed in a rather long time, though I suppose I could put the blame on The Orange Mistress for that.
"Almost there, Brother!" Sister Winona yips triumphantly, her loping gallop accelerating to a chaotic sprint.
I can feel tears dotting at the corners of my eyes from the vertigo and whiplash, though I do my best to keep my mind on other matters. It doesn't work. I almost want to open my eyes and see where we are, but the risk of losing my grip is far too great to make it worth it.
Even so, what harm would there be in just a peek? I've got nothing to lose apart from my pride, and I've already taken a rather large beating from the cliffs.
Against my better judgement, I allow for my eyes to pry open, only to be assaulted by a mishmash of sporadic scenery as it whizzes by. It's sickening to watch, though hypnotizing all the same as my grip on my Sister's tail slowly weakens.
The next thing I know I'm in the air, and time has slowed. It's an interesting thing, adrenaline, making everything slow to a crawl as you're forced to watch and make bets on how painful the consequences will be. I feel my body going limp as I do somersaults in the night breeze, with Luna's stars waving about as if they were performing for my eyes alone.
In the distance, I can hear the soft pitter patter of Sister Winona's paws against the ground slowly fade away. Figures she wouldn't notice my absence.
My eyes squeeze shut as I fall in a gentle arch, unable to face the impending ground. I can only hope that I'll land on a soft carpet of grass or freshly dug soil, though with my luck I'll no doubt find myself splattered against a hard, flat sort of rock that Masters and Mistresses often walk upon.
Suddenly, I feel a cold rush of liquid surround me, as well as the accompanying cacophony of splashing water. Puzzled, I open my eyes and find myself in a shallow pool of sorts, with a hard, granite-like base tickling my toes at the bottom.
Intrigued, I allow for myself to tuck in my limbs and swim forwards along a narrow, circular corridor flanked by stone walls both left and right. I crane my neck up and can see Luna's stars shimmering through the water above, their features slightly distorted from the rippling surface.
Seeing as how swimming probably won't get me an idea of where I am, I paddle upwards and let my head breach the surface, my nostrils snorting away bothersome liquid to make way for air.
There's a long pathway placed about the curious pool that I'm in, along with several unnatural lights dotting their sides to provide for a clear way back to the village of hollow stones. I can see a few large oak trees as well, their overlapping branches obscuring the view of the night sky. Next to one of them is a strange wooden object that I've often seen Masters or Mistresses resting on, the name of which remains to be a mystery to me.
I let myself turn around only to be met by a large obstruction, what appears to be a stone likeness of Celestia placed in the middle of the pool.
I've never understood why Masters and Mistresses build such things, but I can at least be grateful for the cushion of water that the monument provides, small as it is.
"Sister Winona?!" I call out, sputtering slightly from the water lodged in my throat. There's no answer, and I sigh at the thought of the long, long trek home that I'll no doubt face.
I swim to the artificial ledge and climb atop of it, my scales glistening as rivulets of moisture trickle down in a little puddle. I attempt to shake myself in order to get dry, but my clunky anatomy doesn't allow for it. With the knowledge that I'll likely attract more dirt and grime in my damp state, I reluctantly slither down the stone siding to the ground below.
The feeling of soft, damp clay against my worn paws is more than enough to comfort me, and I'm nearly smiling as I waddle forwards back onto the tramped path. Which way should I go? Left? Or right? To go left would likely lead me to Sister Winona, and to go right would take me back the way I had already come.
I glance over at the curious wooden contraption in front of me, the thing that seems more catered to a Master than it does a Sibling. What harm would there be in trying it out? I certainly wouldn't run the risk of looking foolish, on account of me being perfectly alone, and such opportunities truly are once in a lifetime.
With my mind set, I walk over to the object and crouch down to leap onto its peculiar platform. Being so accustomed to opening doors and the like, it's quite easy to get up onto without hurting myself.
The wooden boards creak uneasily under my paws, though this doesn't deter me from laying down and curling my tail about my torso, much in the style of how most Masters and Mistresses sit.
It feels... odd, to say the least. How can anyone sit on such a thing and consider it comfortable? Perhaps my scaly body just isn't built for the style in which the platform was made.
The harsh, rhythmic chirping of crickets drone on and on, deafening even the most acute of whomever might be lurking. Occasionally I can see a bare silhouette of Master or Mistress galloping past in the distance, though I'm not worried. The area around me is secluded enough so that if I'm spotted I can simply flee behind a tree or bush.
I look down at the neatened boards between my paws, slick with moisture from the previous rain. They're perfectly clean otherwise, with not one hint of dirt or bruising tainting their straightened forms.
Before I know it, my tongue is resting against the platform, analyzing every inch and bit of its taste. What can I say? I like to pride myself in the sheer number of things that I've tasted.
It's a rough texture, though smooth in terms of its taste, like pine and crusted sap. I close my eyes as I relish the taste and vanquish all thought of Sister Winona's matted fur from my mind, leaving myself to bask in ecstasy.
"Thinking of getting a splinter, are we?"
I gasp, my head jolting upwards as a calm, familiar voice purrs out into the night. "S-Sister Opalescence?!" I sputter. "Where are you?"
"Up here, sweetie."
There's a faint rustling of branches as I look upwards towards the gnarled oak tree at the platform's side. Staring back at me are two shiny, emerald tinted eyes.
"I didn't know that you were one for climbing at night, Sister," I remark casually, if only to cast away any lingering awkwardness between us. Sister Opalescence isn't exactly known for her social tact, which is quite odd considering her feline lineage. Cats usually pride themselves on being poised and proper individuals, but Sister Opal herself is simply too temperamental and opinionated to really have a proper conversation with.
Her illuminated eyes narrow at my comment, and she jumps from her perch onto the platform at my side, her legs buckling to break her fall. "I didn't know that you were one for licking benches, Brother Gummy," she retorts, gracefully easing back to sit and coil her tail about her legs.
"Benches?" I cock my head to the side. "You mean this thing we're sitting on?"
"Correct." She delicately raises her paw and licks at it, a low rumble resonating from her throat. "Either way, I haven't seen you in a long while. What are you doing out of your stone?" she questions, though in a rather callous tone.
"I went out on my own accord," I answer simply, knowing that she likely wouldn't care for a lengthy explanation. "And you?"
"Hiding." Her purring deepens, distorting itself into a low, bitter growl. "Perhaps a certain Sister could have told you that..."
"You mean Sister Winona? She had mentioned 'chasing', but..." My heart sinks at the thought of my lovable canine friend putting such a regal creature on the run. Then again, dogs and cats are known for their rivalry between one another. It's quite sad, really.
"It isn't important. Not much right now is," Sister Opal murmurs. Her voice, like most cats, is slightly gravelly, rumbling from deep within her chest with every word that pours from her maw. I notice that her fur as is clean as ever, sleek and shiny no doubt from a recent bath of wet saliva.
As I ponder over her statement, I notice her eyes scrutinizing me carefully, watching my every move. “And your Mistress? What of her?”
“Irksome as always,” she mutters in reply, her teeth bared in distaste. “I can’t get a moments peace with her running about, her and that Little Miss of hers.” She pauses to grate her bristled tongue against her dainty paw, her feral eyes closed to mere slits.
I know Sister Opal rather well, so such a blasphemous statement coming from her is of no surprise to me. However, I cannot help but shrink back in discomfort from her words. Siblings are not supposed to harbor such negativity towards their Master or Mistress.
“Surely you don’t mean such words, Sister Opalescence,” I murmur quietly, my voice low against the shrill breeze of the night air. “You don’t want a rumor to spread, do you?”
She sneers in annoyance, though sighs in defeat all the same. “I suppose you’re right, for once, but I’m still frustrated,” she remarks, leaning forward to sit herself more comfortably on her belly. “It’s silly for me to complain to the likes of you, of course.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Sister?” I speak calmly, though am unable to hide the annoyed bite to my voice. “Is that a passive insult?”
“Oh, not to you, Brother. Never.” She giggles huskily, her small fangs glittering against the pale moonlight. “I meant your Mistress, you know? The one who never bothers to shut her mouth?” Sighing, she raised a paw and places it upon one of the wooden boards, her claws extending to gently scratch at it.
Her comment doesn’t surprise me. “She’s my Mistress. I’m used to her... antics,” I murmur, my eyes locked to that one paw, clawing away at the dampened wood. “Is it not the same for you?” I ask.
“Mm, perhaps.” She carelessly shrugs her shoulders and looks upwards towards the sky. “I don’t really mean any of what I say, you know. I’m just a bit cross at the moment.”
“You mean you aren’t always?” I laugh, silenced only by her inevitable harsh glare. “Sorry, sorry... I just wanted to get back at you.” I can feel a broad smile creeping up along my jaw, though I make sure not to show it on account of my embarrassing gums.
“Figures, you alligators are all the same. Cheeky.” She stands up and hops off the bench, landing easily on all fours. She opens her mouth and yawns loudly.
“Do you even know any other alligators?”
“No, but that’s besides the point,” she retorts, her fluffy tail swishing back and forth. It takes all of my willpower not to just jump down and take it in my mouth. I’m better than that though, being the gentleman that I like to consider myself to be.
“Are you going back to your stone?” I ask, trying my best not to sound hurt. In truth, I don’t desire to be alone here, especially when I lack the proper legs to get back to my home on my own.
“Where else is there to go these days?” she mutters, rolling her eyes distastefully before offering me a half-hearted smirk. “I guess I should be grateful, right? Whatever. I’ll see you around, okay?”
Without even waiting for a reply Sister Opal starts down the pathway, her tail gently lifted so it won’t trail along behind her in the dirt. She steps on the tips of her toes, as if fearing that her paws might become permanently stained with filth.
“Wait, Sister!” I call out, to which she stops and cranes her neck around to look at me expectantly. She says nothing, though even from our distance I can see the annoyed frown etched onto her features.
I take a deep breath, and force my eyes to look into her own. “I know that The White Mistress may sometimes be a tad eccentric, but you shouldn’t forget that your roots are most important. She raised you, after all. Why resent her?”
She doesn’t reply, and instead walks off at an even quicker pace than before. It isn’t long before I lose sight of her in the darkness, leaving me all alone upon the wooden planks, the ‘bench’, as she called it.
I suppose I’ll just wait here until I’m found.
“Gummy?! Gummy!”
A bright pink mare races along the streets of Ponyville, her eyes dotted with tears as she runs to and fro every known alleyway and turn. She seems frantic, desperate as her puffy pink tail bounces along behind her.
“I’m really sorry, Gum Gums! I didn’t mean to forget to feed you!” she cries sadly, much to the chagrin of the ponies already snug in their beds.
On and on she runs, crying out that one name as much as her lungs are able.
Finally, with nowhere else to go, her search leads her to the Ponyville Park. Her constant sprint slows to an exhausted but determined walk. Her head droops downwards, unable to support the weight of her skull as she stumbles on, weakly calling out her beloved pet’s name over and over again.
She stops at the fountain, her chest burning from exertion and her cheeks ruddy with drying tears. In a fit of thirst she stretches out her neck and takes a guilty drink from the fountain’s clear, clean water.
Swallowing, she savors the cool, comforting sensation of liquid trickling down her parched throat.
“G-Gummy...?” she whimpers, a vain attempt to call out.
For a long while there is only the reply of dead silence, save for the endless chirping of cicadas and the occasional hoot of an owl.
And then, a low, distinct gurgle.
“Gummy!?” The mare flinches sharply and looks about her, freezing in shock when she finally notices a lone bench sitting next to a tall, old oak tree.
Sitting on that bench is a little alligator.
She gasps, and the mare runs up to take her pet in her forelegs, a happy giggle bubbling up from her lips. “Oh, Gummy! I’m so sorry!”
Oh course the reptile doesn't reply. How can it? Beasts can’t talk, after all.
“Come on, let’s go home, okay?” The Mare sets the alligator down and leans her head forward.
As if taking a cue, the alligator slowly tilts his head up and snaps up her mane in his jaws.
