Meeting Flounder

"So Buck... this one?" Bough reaches his brother. It was a big field, acres of open space.

And just there was Boughs brother Buccaneer, Buck for short, build like a brick wall, two meters tall.... petting a rather small pony. It was maybe half the size of the man.

"Yeah... look, how cute this thing is. He likes me petting him too." Buck was petting rhe gelding rather strongly, but it seemed that it was just what tge pony wanted. It was actually leaning into the mans hand.

"Hes adorable- and so small. I... I could bench him. " Bough pondered. How much could a pony this size even weigh? 

"Hmmm. I could just pick him up 'n take him home." Buck hums, not very seriously. That would probaply be against the rules and all… 

Both were quiet for a moment. Gusts of wind blew by, tearing on their clothes and on the ponys long, knotted mane.

"That is a devious idea. Great. Who knew you can come up with one like it?" A third voice goes, Buck grumbles. Another of their siblings, Archer, has snuck up. Smaller than both Buck and Bough, but with enough audacity for the three of them.

"YOU! Stop doing that!" Buck is quickly annoyed, his voice rather loud. It startles other, nearby ponies.

"Careful, or youll scare the little creature off." Archer rummages in his pockets, but comes up empty. Instead, he approaches Bough and reaches into the other mans pocket, clearly knowing where to look, and pulls out a little bag of horse treats. He doesn't offer the pony any. Instead, Archer eats the treats himself.

“You little thief.” Bough bedgrudgingly grins. He doesn't budge to stop Archer. “Anyways- Were not stealing a horse. What about the whole bell tradition then?” He gestures to Buck, who has a little bell ribbon tightly clutched in his non petting hand. The man had been excited to be a part of that custom.

“Yeah, no Arch. I'm doing this the way it's supposed to.” Buck looks at the pony fondly. Such a small creature and yet, so full of natural trust. It would probably let itself be picked up. He fiddles with the bell ribbon, tries to find a good spot for it. The mane is knotted, some bits are sure to come off soon. 

“What about that spot?” Bough points to a certain partition of the mane.

Archer butts in “No try over there, he'll never grt that out even if he tried.” 

“Hmpf. Here?” Buck points to a totally different area. 

The discourse drags on. The pony patiently waits.