At first it seems to be working - the squirrels are both calm and listening, even venturing to scurry a little closer to the equines. They cock their heads and twitch their noses as each knew voice, so animated and expressive it seems that although they might not understand the conversation entirely, they want to.
But that all changes in an instant. Sloane’s tap upon the squirrel’s keratin spines seems to be the igniting force, her hoof a spark to the squirrel’s flame. The keratin ridges stiffen, a ripple of energy coursing down its spine. For a moment it seems as if the rodent will calm itself back down, as if Sloane’s intrusion would be interpreted as nothing more than an annoyance.
But then the creature squeaks, and the flames spark in an instant. They run down the length of its spine, burning hot and hungry. The other squirrel hunkers low to the ground, chattering angrily at his friend. His own spines, thankfully, remain flat.
The squirrel ablaze takes one step backwards, then another, all the while looking from squirrel to horse to god.
Oriens takes a step back himself, giving the creatures their space and nodding for the others to do the same. “It’s okay,” he says softly, his tone low. “We mean you no harm.”
The squirrel not on fire seems to be listening still to the other horses, not quite understanding the words spoken but feeling soothed by their tones and body language. Perhaps the creatures are simply as wary of the horses as the horses are of them?
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