Willfur
There's always been something fascinating to the mule about the way light and color take on such an ethereal quality when surrounded by contrasting darkness, so it's without even the slightest forethought or hesitation that he trots toward the meadow, eyes fixed on its carpet of phosphorescent white and periwinkle blue blossoms, curiosity and a joyful wonder his only driving forces.
The roughly oval space is utterly transformed, a layer of veiling shadow sandwiched between starlight above and the flowers dim glow beneath, their light most intense in the blooms centers and fading to a pale gleam toward the tips of their petals. Lowering his head, the stallion takes a moment to examine them closer, noting the grainy texture of the glowing substance, as if a powder of some sort had been poured over them to create the glimmering effect, rather than a natural process of the plants themselves.
Overenthusiastic, he presses his nostrils too close and inhales a choking breath of powder, the dry particles irritating his airway and making him sneeze forcefully. "sh-CHEW!" Snorting, he rubs his muzzle on one knee, leaving behind a gleaming smear that visibly fades as he watches. "Oh!"
Well, it doesn't taste like poison and he can see the silhouettes of other equids moving about the meadow who have presumably been exposed to the blossoms longer than he, so the risk of a bad reaction is probably low...
With a feral grin and his knees and hocks held high, the mule prances through the flowers, coating his lower legs in a bright, light blue radiance that flares and fades with the movement of his steps.
