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The sun, hot overhead, reflected off something in Evren’s peripheral vision. He was supposed to be cleaning up the yarn from his latest attempt at learning to knit. Mostly he just ended up with tangles. But tangles were fun to untangle . . . sometimes.



But the day was so hot, and the sun so bright, and all he wanted to do was laze in the shade with his feet in the shallow creek nearby. But whatever the flash of light was from, it was annoying.



And distracting. Though to be honest, Evren didn’t need much to be distracted.



Stepping over the wood chips that were left from when he decided he should learn to whittle, the stallion moved towards the reflective . . . pitcher. Oh! That’s right! He’d been making fruit juice blends!



Was that yesterday? Probably. Surely he hadn’t forgotten about it longer ago than that. He’d left the mortar and pestle in the crook of a tree, a little berry pulp still in the bottom. Honestly, the angle trying to grind the fruit had been awkward. His wings, and thus hand-wings, didn’t quite want to move the way the tool required. Nor did he really have the strength. He’d figured the best thing to grind would be really ripe berries and fruit, ones already a little soft. So much easier than some of the herbs and such he’d been trying to start with.



And who wouldn’t love a refreshing fruit and berry juice when the sun was so high in the sky?



Looking at the pitcher, he remembered he’d been called away before he’d added the cool spring water. But he was sure there’d been more liquid than that in the bottom before. And what was there seemed thicker. But he was probably just misremembering. That happened a lot.



Going a little upstream, he reached where the cool spring bubbled to the surface and scooped the clear water up with a bowl. It took a couple trips to finish filling the pitcher with the cold water, but watching the fruity concoction swirl up from the bottom made him smile. The colors were so pretty, a little darker than him, but really quite striking.



A stirring stick mixed everything up really well. It smelled a little strange. Like fruit, but something else too. Well, it had been sitting in the sun since yesterday, probably just yesterday, maybe that’s what concentrated sunshine smelled like when you added it to fruit and berries?



Pouring a generous serving into a bowl for himself, he looked around to see if there was anyone to share his amazing, if a bit accidental, creation with.



Parisa! She looked like maybe she was hot. And the juice would be a lovely match to her coloration as well.



Pouring another bowl full, he trampled over some of the yarn he was supposed to cleaning up on his way to the pretty mare. With a smile, Evren calls out, “Parisa! Want to try this new fruit and berry juice I made?” One hand-wing was already reaching a bowl towards her as he finished approaching. A little condensation clinging to the side of the bowl from the colder spring water that had been mixed with his concoction showing it should be cool and refreshing.

(WC:547)

Smiling, "I haven't tried it yet. I was just going to when I saw you and wanted to share. It's entirely too hot not to have a refreshing drink."

Evran sets both bowls down on a convenient stump. "The fresh, cold, spring water was the last ingredient so it should be nicely chilled. We should try it before the heat gets to it."

That said, he takes a nice big drink of the juice. Eyes wide, he takes half a step back before rapidly blinking. "Oh, that's different. Woooo . . . Maybe could have used a little more water, but I like it! You should try and tell me what you think."

Another big gulp, "I have more in the pitcher, too. So we can add some more water for the next bowls if you agree, plus that will cool it down again."

Evran blinks, "It's kind of tingly, I don't think I added any nettles . . ." He doesn't finish the thought before draining the rest of the juice from his bowl. (TWC: 722)

Evran giggles, "Punch! Yes, it's a mouth punch kind of flavor." He blinks again, still giggling. Since when did he giggle?

A shrug, "You like it? I don't think the berries were tart . . . The lemon was. But I thought it was good with the berries and berries and berries and peaches." Another giggle, "Maybe there was some mint, I think it was mint. Maybe it was parsley. I always get those mixed up."

"Um, Parisa . . . You're kinda . . . Wobbly an bendy. You Kay?" Evran sways a bit, his back legs deciding to sit. Rump suddenly plopping down in the dirt, he looks over and pats the ground, "hi Earth. You want some juice too?" (TWC: 844)

Evran's wings reach out to try and steady Parisa. "Oh . . . I've never had such a pretty mare falling at my hooves. Hello." He stretches to give a quick nuzzle.

Then he blinks and scrambles, swaying and barely avoiding a tangled heap, away. "Sorry, sorry Parisa. That was rude, I'm not rude, not usually. I just . . ."

His vision swimming, he trails off. Something was wrong. He felt clumsy and slow and numb. And it was nice, warm in a way different from the sun.

But Evran had just nuzzled Parisa. And she was a friend, wasn't she? Just a friend, who was pretty and giggled like bells, and she sat next to him and . . .

Why was he sitting again?

He was out of juice. She was almost out of juice. He should get them more juice. "Ah . . . I'll just . . . Just juice for juice for yes, good berries."

Why wouldn't the ground stay still. How was he supposed to stand up with it rolling like that. And how had he got his wings all tangled in yarn? (TWC: 1034)

"I don't think I was thinking. My head place is being hazy. Like morning fog on the inside." Evran blinks. "Ooh, sweet, yes. You are sweet and juice is sweet and I was going to get you more juicy juice-ness-ness."

Instead of getting up he flops over on his side. His neck cranes as he looks up at her, "how come you're upside down and there's two of you. Is there supposed to be two of you?"

"Hello Parisa. Hello other Parisa. Are you two thirsty? I'm thirsty. Really thirsty. And I just had juice, didn't I? I think I did. We should have some more." His wings rustle in their yarn bindings as he tries to roll over.

"I can't move. I can't move. I just . . . I'ma have to stay here. At least I'll die next to the pretty Parisa-s-es." His eyes close as he accepts his fate.

"Mmm . . . Not die is good." Evran mumbles and is silent for a bit.

Then he wiggles a bit to get more comfortable and snuggles in closer to Parisa. "Maybe just have a nap. Naps is good, yes?" Not that his eyes had opened again.

Nor that a response is expected as a snore, likely from sleeping upside down, rumbles from him in the next moment.