Gaze pointed upward, the fae stared hard, her expression suggesting that she wished to will the fruit off the tree. Only once before when she'd stood next to Kismet the day they'd reunited had she been so aware of her height, or lack thereof. A breeze blew through to send the fruit swinging and Warja's ears flicked forward to betray her keen interest. The current grew stronger, the branches bobbing up and down with the invisible force pitted against them...and then everything stilled as the wind gave out. Not one single apple fell. Warja's ears flicked back.
Legs coiling beneath her, the yearling crouched down, her eyes locking on a target. She hesitated, bouncing up scant inches before crouching down once more, and then flung herself towards the fruit. As she neared it her jaws parted, flinging wide. She stretched out her neck, every inch of her being drawing out in the hopes of closing the distance between her and the apple. Her jaws snapped shut with a resounding crack and in the blink of an eye she was on the ground again, fruitless and more than a little miffed.
Pacing back several steps, the fae's gaze never left the boughs of the tree. Well. She huffed to herself. Now she had to have one. But how? Warja eyed the trunk, noting the curves in it. Her eyes narrowed and her tail flicked. She had an idea but... One ear turned back. Ehhhh. It was worth a shot.
Taking a run start, the yearling flung herself at the tree. She managed to get her front paws wrapped around a branch branch, using her dewclaws to hook the bark. Her back nails dug into the trunk of the tree, providing enough resistance to keep her up but not enough to keep her in place, her hind limbs slowly sliding down the tree. She moved quickly, reaching up with a forelimb to grasp at another branch and then strong-arming her way up the tree. She rested once all four limbs were supported by branches. Within reach hung dozens of tantalizing fruits. They filled the air with their sweet scent, inviting her to choose her reward. The brush of a low hanging apple against her ear drew her teeth upwards and Warja, plucking the pome from the tree, began to enjoy the fruits of her labor.
"Speech"
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