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There were quite a few kimeti who might have stumbled upon the pretty picture and taken a long moment to admire it, sidled up casually to flirt with her, tossed their heads and offered twinkling eyes and easy comments...

And then there was Cranberry Sour.

Swamp only knew what he was chasing; considering how fast he was careening blindly through low-hanging branches and sloshing mud, it was probably something small and quick. Whatever it was, Sugar Snow could count herself lucky that it hadn't cut a path right over her, or she might have been hit by the thrumming hooves of a buck who was just coming into his own, finally fleshing out in full, shoulders broad and jaw strong.

As it was, he just cut past her, with the squelch-clomp of hooves on wet stones and a spray of dark mud up onto her pristine, beautiful moss. He was past her in a moment, disappearing into trees....but a moment later he was back, blinking at her curiously, flanks heaving as he struggled to catch his breath and his prey, for the moment, forgotten.

Cranberry Sour's super power appeared to be his obliviousness; he blinked at her in a clueless way, tipping his head, considering the mud on her white fur. He, himself, was brown almost to the throat, the bright colors of his coat hidden under a caking of dust and dirt and that was actually a crying shame. His colors were one of his greatest assets. Much greater than his brain.

"...what were you doing?" It was genuinely curious, his eyes wise and eyebrow ridges raised as he danced sideways in the mess, trodding more moss into mush in a thoughtless sort of way. Somehow, he made it seem like she was the one who'd done something crazy. Racing through the swamp was normal. Lounging was bizarre.

"Why?" But he blinked, finally, and then his expression went pleased, amused. The toss of his head, now, was definitely flirting, shaking away specks of mud from the side of his throat, baring flashes of yellow and green. He pranced a little in place -- perhaps just because it was hard for him to stand still, even for this long, he wanted to take off at a canter again.

"It's good for you. And it feels good." Didn't it? His eyes were definitely smiling as he eased in a step closer. "It's healthy."

"...I know a pond!" Probably not exactly what she meant, but it bubbled out of Cransour with a wild sort of energy, and he immediately pranced back a couple steps -- pausing after only a moment to blink back and make sure she was following. Not that he was doubting she would, but....but it was best to be sure, perhaps.

His tail lashed in an absent way, perhaps confused or embarrassed by that hint of laughter, not sure what it meant or what to make of it. It turned his expression puzzled but not too puzzled to catch her request: he took off immediately through the undergrowth, not at the breakneck pace of before but still quick. She'd have to trot to catch up. And would probably end up even more splattered than she'd already been.

But the pond was clean -- as these things went -- with the croak of retreating frogs and whipping cattails around the edges of the water. He plunged past them thoughtlessly and a curtain of water exploded behind him, droplets spraying back toward her. He didn't turn around until he was submerged to the throat.

He was the same boy who used to swim out too far and then wear out, floating helplessly in the middle of the water until someone came to help -- but he was also older, now. It meant he didn't bound out into the water, but he did splash around, paddling under the water and tossing his head just a little, blowing out sharp puffs of air. Sugar Snow might be disappointed. Her flirting went unnoticed, he just ducked under the water to wash himself off and then thudded back up onto the floor to shake as dry as he could, show off flashes of color, finally.

"See? Pond. Clean. Better?"