Bell Hopper / Avon Claim Attempt #1

Hawley stepped up to the fence on the very border of the acreage where the semi-feral cobs roamed over winter. It was cold, muddy, wet, and overcast to threaten some of the first snow of the season. The ginger put his foot up on the bottom rail, leaning on the top as he eyed the herd of rambunctious little ponies.

“You think one of ‘em will let me up with these bells, Aslan?” He asked, producing a string of jingle bells and waving them at his companion who had just come up behind him from their vehicle.

Aslan pondered. “They can’t be that difficult to get near, right? I mean, they’re just ponies.” Hawley laughed and clambered over the fence, pausing as he straddled it at the peak.

“They may just be ponies, but I wouldn’t underestimate their drive to not cooperate with us.” He made it the rest of the way down, helping his gangly compatriot over the fence himself, and marched out towards the herd. Some of them were flashy, some with longer feathers and sleek white markings, but the one that caught his eye was a solid little bay – he had a single sock to his name, lost the rest in the mud somewhere no doubt, and a big, diamond snip in the middle of his nose. The perfect man.

Hawley, after having shoved the bells back in his coat pocket, carefully approached the horse, Aslan following at enough of a distance to not interfere. Hawley definitely had a more confident stride, but measured enough to not cause the bay to run off immediately.

The bay’s ears pricked up towards the challenger as he approached, his bright, brown eyes filled to the brim with curiosity at who’s this? What’s that? Do you have something for me?

Hawley held out a hand as a peace offering, keeping one in his coat.

The bay stepped forward, reaching his nose out in turn.

Hawley inched closer, ever so slightly.

The bay’s whiskers touched his hand, just barely, and he startled himself a bit in the process before he touched his soft muzzle to the ever-so-patient hand. Hawley grinned, glancing at Aslan before attempting to reach up and pet the little horse properly. The bay dipped away and moved off at a trot, but kept an ear on the man who had approached him. Very shortly he turned back around to face him, curiosity getting the better of the little bay, and did a short exhale. He was clearly conflicted, unsure of this new handler business. On the one hand, he was wild and free, out with his herd and able to roll in the mud to his heart’s content. On the other hand, though… he really, really wanted to know what was up with this guy. Hawley could tell.

He grabbed a handful of grass from a patch that hadn’t been tromped through by little hooves, and approached the pony again with the new form of bribery, holding it out flat. The little bay approached again, this time slightly more assured in his strides, and stopped just before petting distance.

Hawley waited patiently.

The bay touched the tip of his fingers with his whiskers, but didn’t flinch.

Hawley waited longer.

The bay ever so slowly reached forward, lip first, and took a few blades of grass from the boy’s hand, retreating back into his own space bubble as soon as he did so.

Hawley reached forward, again, and offered his hand full of grass before reaching up with the other to attempt a pet, succeeding this time. The pony’s mane was knotted around sticks and leaves, with a light coating of dirt to top it all off, but his forehead underneath was as soft as anything. As Hawley petted him, moving his forelock to either side, he revealed a star as well, delight spreading across his face. After the joy of that attempt, he stepped back from the pony, giving him a moment’s respite from the new experiences and giving him an opportunity to express his giddiness about it.

“Aslan, I did it!” He called, grinning from ear to ear. His companion grinned back, also overjoyed for him. In Hawley’s excitement, though, the string of jingle bells had slipped out of his pocket, the incredibly grabbable end sticking out just enough that…

SNATCH!

They were suddenly yanked out of his pocket, the sneaky little bay pony trotting, then cantering, then galloping away with them, back to his herd with an incredibly surprised Hawley tearing after him, as much as he could with only two legs and the ground being very, very slippery. Aslan also followed after, fighting the environment just as much if not slightly more than the exuberant redhead that had gone sprinting off after the little horses.

The herd had split up, dispersing like the red sea as the little thief tore through them, shaking the bells as he went – up and down, around in circles, jingling about as much as all of Santa’s reindeer would. Hawley slid, slipped, and stumbled his way after him, fruitlessly trying to catch up with the four-legged mischief-maker.

“Shit!” He huffed after coming to a stop and put his hands on his knees. “I need those, and I don’t think he’s gonna drop ‘em…”

Aslan caught up, a bit less out of breath. “Won’t he, though? He’s gotta get bored sometime.”

“I inadvertently provided him with a new toy, and he’s gonna be occupied for a while, I think.” Hawley exhaled, watching the horse present the bells to another pony. The other pony sniffed them, the bay tossed his head, and his friend promptly snorted and ran off, scared of the noise. The bay seemed pleased and went trotting after the herd again, jingle-jangle-jingling his way around the area, happy as a clam.

“So do we just wait for him to get bored?” Aslan asked, hands shoved into his pockets to avoid the chill breeze. Hawley tilted his head, still watching the mischievous little horse prance around like he owned the place, spooking the other ponies and having the absolute time of his life.

“I think I have to get more interesting than the bells are.” The ginger concluded, marching off towards the little bay. Slipped, nearly fell, adjusted his glasses, then marched off again.

The pony noticed him again, ears pricked forward as he paused his jingling for a moment, focused on Hawley. He nudged them forward, almost taunting the boy with the bells, a curious glint still present in his eye.

Hawley moved off to the side, trying to keep his interest, and very slowly approached the pony’s withers. His cautious hand was clearly offensive, though, as the pony danced away, still focused on him and turned to face him again. Hawley tried once more, almost managing to grab the bells before the pony was onto him and pranced off once more. The boy followed this time, trying to match the playful energy, and they went back and forth a few more times – one trying to procure the bells, the other trying to keep a hold on his prize.

Eventually, though, the bay realized he could play with this guy, allowing him ever so slightly closer with each approach until he was able to shake the bells at him to let him grab them, pulling back just enough to turn it into a game. Tug of war!

Hawley pulled slightly, and the pony pulled back. Hawley pulled again, and the pony pulled back a bit harder. Hawley pulled, got the bells, and fell backwards in surprise, silent for a moment before he laughed, his prize secured. A distant laugh from Aslan could be heard from him, and after shooting a frown in his direction, he stood up.

Once he accepted his muddy fate, he approached the pony again, grip firm on the jingle bells this time to prevent theft. The little bay let him pet his face, then down his neck, and then his mane, nuzzling at the boy as he braided the string of bells into the long, tangled hair. Hawley admired his handiwork, reaching up behind the pony’s ears to give him the scratches that only human fingers can, and the bay accepted, leaning into them and nearly knocking him over.

Hawley grinned back at Aslan again, who had approached, seeing that the pony was satiated, for now.

“How did you manage to fall over?”

“Ponies are devious little creatures. This one especially.” Hawley said, with all the seriousness in the world, hands still occupied with giving the little horse so, so many scratches – on his face, on his ears, under his chin, on his neck, chest, withers, anywhere he could feasibly lean on him from.

The pony seemed content, although shortly he discovered the jingle bells were attached to him, and still oh so grabbable. He reached around, nipping at the bells, and a few unsuccessful bites later, managed to grab onto them and go prancing back to his friends with the bells in his mouth, forgetting the delights of humans entirely.

Hawley and Aslan laughed and walked back to the truck, hopeful for when he would come out of winter and happy to get out of the very, very cold wind.