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It is hard to tell who exactly wins the race -- the kimeti and kiokote at the front all pour on speed and energy to get to the grandfather tree faster than anyone else. As such, a massive knot of clustered kimeti and kiokote, all with manes and tails whipping in the wind, cross all at once.

They do not give a second thought to the poor grey buck who went tumbling hooves-over-face behind them, though some of the others, who wouldn't have finished first anyway, wheel around or skid to a halt to see whether he survived it -- in Stormbreaker's estimation, he should have at least broken a few bones that way. The black kiokote, leaving his siblings to finish the race, is one of the first to appear, and peers nervously down at Snow-blind, hoping that they don't get run over. Other kimeti and kiokote still run past them, though they spare them curious glances and slow down to avoid the 'obstacle' in their way.

The kiokote's voice is only slightly winded from his exertions -- "Are you okay? That was pretty spectacular. Come on, let's get you up," he adds, "Out of the mud."

-*-

The grey kiokote -- the one who had been watching the action -- has no idea who actually finished. His look goes from curiosity to sudden despair; how will they give prizes to the finishers when they don't know who finished where? The small pack of kiokote he had had scour the swamp for prizes glance up to him and he shakes his head, shrugging. They'll figure it out when they get to that point, right?

Right now all of the runners look so winded and exhausted that he rather doubts they're thinking about prizes, anyway. The water that sat still over the floodplain is all churned up to mud in their wake, but there's plenty of fresh, clear water in the middle. That might be prize enough.

"Congratulations to our runners! There are no fleeter kimeti and kiokote than these!" As the general cheering and roaring dies down, he waits -- swats a fly with his tail -- and then adds, "Our next event will be in honor of our new cousins from the desert! Would one of them kindly come to the rock in the middle of the field!"

-*-

Beetleshell looks at the blue buck as though he's appeared out of a dream -- sizes him up, with her golden eyes -- and then returns to watching the knot of runners cross what has to be the 'finish line,' since all of them fight to cross it all at once. "I see that," she says. Her voice is hoarse, and there are curious pauses in between her words; not like she considers her next one, but as though her voice just .. doesn't work right. "I heard the thundering... in the ground. The hooves."

"What is this for?"

He had, honestly, barely noticed that the other buck had fallen off and down - when the weight disappeared, he merely managed to run faster. With the wind whistling past his pinned-back ears, his blind terror propelling his legs, and the race taking a sharp left hook, Pieces ran straight and true, and straight into a nearby tree.

It was a quick but epic battle between his head and the trunk, and the tree won. Legs splayed, he slid down its roots to the ground. After a moment which seemed like an eternity in his pounding skull, he rolled over, dazed. He might've won if it were a straight sprint, but not with that terrible jumpstart...

In his Doom-dazed state, it took a moment for the grassy doe's words to filter through to his consciousness...deal with someone else...deal with someone else...deal with someone else...

"Right." he nodded firmly, mind snapping shut on that thought like a steel trap of vengeance, laid in wait for that one kimeti who was responsible for this mess he's in in the first place, "I'll leave my boss to her."

"I use crushed ochre mixed with water, or sometimes juices from fruits and flowers." Ochre replies, starting to circle the siblings. As she studies them, Ochre answers the buck's question. "I'm an Acha, we live in the desert and are apparently cousins to your kind and Kiokote." Having given them both a good look, Ochre turns to her paint. Selecting some colors, red, yellow, orange, and at the last minute, pruple, Ochre picks up a brush made from several frayed feathers tied together. "Old shtill." She tells the buck. First she dips the brush in the yellow, and starts to follow the blue line. Once it's covered Ochre starts on designs of alternating circles and squares. These fill up the band of greenish between his blue blanket and the now yellow line.

Ochre sets down her brush and picks up a new one, bigger and made of bundled grasses. This gets dipped in the red and Ochre starts painting under the blue-to-yellow line. Carefully she paints up to that line, and down to just above his knees. "that needs to dry before I can put the next layer on." She says, before turning to the doe. For her, Ochre pulls out white, green and yellow-orange. "Can your.. uhm what is that? The winged bug you have? Can you tell it to sit on your head?" She'd seen the doe with it earlier and an idea had immediately come to her. While she waits for an answer Ochre selects the brushes she'll need, another thick one of grasses, several small ones made of single unfrayed feathers, and frayed feather brushes of varying size.

He didn't appraise her. He watched instead as the herd moved and seemed to finish their circle. And though he seemed to paid her little attention, he listened carefully to her voice -- a tendril of strained roughness. "Oh, that, I have no idea about," he replied softly. It was likely the quickest answer he had ever given to a question because there was no way he could know and he saw reason to pretend.

He turned his head towards the doe, only then taking in the vibrant shades of green and yellow and lagoon water blue on her pelt. "Shall we go inquire about it?" he asked.




When Waters Recede took a deep breath as she stood past the finish line. She stamped her hooves in victory, a laugh escaping her mouth in the absolute joy of running. She glanced down to see the end of a twitching tail vanish into the crowd and wondered who that cat belonged to.

Guide threaded throught the exhausted group, eyes wide open for the green doe it had met earlier. He wasn't sure he had any fondness for her but Travels had seemed to get along with her and if the cheetah knew anything, it knew he likely wouldn't find the doe himself. Which left the cat to find her and lead her to the red buck. Now if only he could find her.

Glow didn't know what Ochre was, but she understood the juices part. So this... Acha! This acha "painted" by spreading a mixture crushed things and a bit of liquid! That was fascinating. She stared open eyed as her brother changed colors before her eyes, and then squealed in delight.

"Ha ha, Searching, you look so pretty!" She pranced around Searching until Ochre asked her to call back her moth. She looked up at Browning Leaf and called his name to wake him up. He flew toward her back once more, but she reared up and gently touched her head to his tiny stick legs, ensuring that he stuck to her head. She turned toward Ochre, holding unnaturally still. "This is Browning Leaf, he's my Giant Moth!" She quivered slightly, briefly, in her excitement.

Wax and Wane reach the crowed just as a dainty pink not-Kimeti jumped up on a rock and said something to a Kiokote. They could see a group of Kimeti, Kiokote and the dainty not-Kimeti panting, as though after a race. "Looks like we missed" Wax started. "The first event." Wane finished. Even when just the two of them they finished what the other started to say. The two take a closer look around, taking in the sights and smells. They notice many things going on, food being passed out, painting, but most prominent on their minds is one question. Wane starts to voice it. "I wonder what those." And Wax finishes it. "Delicate not-Kimeti are." Then, in unison. "Lets go find out." The two thread their way through the crowd, headed toward the rock with the Kiokote and pink not-Kimeti.