Red-stained Blossom was a mantis when she'd encountered the Acha buck. Perched on a shrub, wings splayed, her blade-limbs high.
"Oh, won't you speak to me?" the Acha buck had teased. He'd stopped mid-step, and loped over to peer at her flared wings.
She did not reply. She didn't think she quite wanted to leave off being a mantis right now, not for this buck, whose voice was entirely too pleasant.
"Then again, you do make a lovely mantis," he laughed, "with your glimmering wings, and your glowing eyes."
Of course he knew, but hell if she was going to give him the satisfaction. She stared at him, unblinking, with those glowing eyes.
"The truth is," he was undeterred, tapping a casual hoof as if it were a conversation between friends, "I have a favour to ask, if you would be so kind. I have a lady friend, shall we say, who might be in – ah, the family way."
He paused for a moment, looking away into the distance, humming. His face was unspeakably serene, and if Rouge had hackles at the moment, they would have risen.
"I am so very fond of her, you know," he leaned in conspiratorially, like he was imparting a secret in the highest confidence, "such a wonderful doe; so very fond of her. I have such hopes."
In place of haunches, she clicked her mandibles.
"How shall I put this?" he chuckled lightly, "ah, it's embarrassing, isn't it? To ask for such a favour when I could hardly have anything worth half as much to offer in return."
If she'd been a mare at this point, she would have retorted something sharp.
"But I am so very fond of her, you know," he repeated, nodding earnestly, "and so very fond of the impending children. It would be ever so nice if the Swamp would cast a thought for their safe arrival, would it not?"
Rouge was the kind of mare who could only bite her tongue for so long.
She gracefully leapt from the bush, wings fluttering – by the time she touched the ground, she was an Acha.
"I quite pity your lady friend," she said, "to have to deal with the likes of you. A tiger to the core, aren't you?"
She rather wished his laugh didn't sound so genuinely delighted.
"Oh no," he kicked his heels, as if the mirth was too great to contain, and must be spent out some way, "you mustn't pity her. She looks much more a tiger than I – magnificent! If you saw her in the shadows, you would think her straight a beast of prey. Her name is Stomp. Is it not wonderful? But – ah, her core is soft, and, oh, so giving. She is always happy. She dances. Such a lovely doe."
"Lovely," Rouge repeated.
"So fond of her," he said again, and tipped his head, "and I hope she of me. But the children, ah, that's what's important, isn't it?"
She was loath to do it for this buck with the overbright smile, but she couldn't quite disagree. Still, she would dispense with the show.
"May Stomp and her children be safe," she said, "may they take after their mother. May they have soft hearts and giving natures. May they always be happy."
"I could wish," he smiled, "for nothing better. Thank you."
He was light of foot, and disappeared, like a tiger, into the leaves. She spun into a sand dog this time, and was on her way.
END