Genus: Equus

One did not survive long as a prey animal if one was not aware of their surroundings. Even as he chomped and pulled orchard grass to satisfy his stomach (though not his sweet tooth) the dark pony's ears were constantly flickering and turning to catch sounds. With his eyes on the side of his head rather than the front like a predatory wolf, there was little he couldn't see around him. But for all of nature's precautions, Pippin was an arrogant little bastard and gave much less thought to caution. Oh certainly he heard the laughter and crashing of underbrush as something undoubtedly young and irritating caterwauled through it, but past pinning his ears and scraping one forehoof against the rich loam in obvious irritation he strove to ignore it in favor of delicious moist grass.

Until the whatever-it-was tried to speak to him.

With a snort, the stallion arched his neck to bring his head around to face the voice. A little wolf, unusually colored compared to what he was used to, and while admittedly Pippin could not claim any sort of expertise on judging the ages of predator species it did, in fact, look quite young. "Go home to your mama, little beast, I'm sure she has a tit waiting for you," he huffed callously, stamping his hoof again.