Aslan was pressed for time. He needed to get that ribbon on Marmelada as soon as he could, and yet the mare was evading him. It was like playing a game of chase, except one of them didn't want to play. Marmelada was proving much more difficult than Aslan anticipated, and he wasn't having it, not one bit.
Marmelada would trot around as if showing off, head held high and tail flowing in the wind. Aslan knew she was the perfect pony for Hawley, if only he could get close enough ...
