Warrior considered. "I don't think you're grass. You don't smell like it?" And he'd been eating grass.

...Sudden worry struck him; what if the grass had just been holding really still, afraid of him, and he'd been eating a bunch of things that could talk, like V? He stood anxious for a moment, studying his memories of grass--the smell, the shape, the texture, the color.

...No, he didn't think V and grass were the same thing. I hope not, anyway...

He barely noticed the comment that he was soft--indeed he'd been so lost in his own thoughts that the squealing of baby quillmice were the only thing to pull him out of it. Blinking, he turned and peered down, and felt a cold horror grip him as V pulled the quillmouse baby from its nest. "But-... But that's alive?" he protested, weakly.

Was it normal to eat things that cried? That moved, and smelled alive? No, he didn't think so-... Oleander hadn't, and the camel, too, had just eaten plants.

What if V was just... another thing that attacked things like Oleander and him? What if she was a... a... (and here, his mind helpfully supplied the word) a "predator?"

Uneasy, he pranced back a few steps, showing in every swivel of his ears and flare of his nostrils that he was uncomfortable with this. "I feel bad for it," he murmured. "When I was a baby stuff tried to eat me, too." At least, he assumed now that this had been the vulture's purpose. (And never mind the fact that he was still a baby, too).

"I don't wanna watch." Half of him was aching to save the poor baby mouse--to nudge it back into the tunnel, and chase the snake away. But she was his new friend, and... she had to eat, didn't she? But what if she was wrong? What if she just ate grass, and was wrong?

Too torn by all of this--it was too much for a young foal to handle--he turned and quickly trotted away. "I'm gonna wait back by the water," he called back, the discomfort of it all carrying his hooves away.

He half-hoped he could get over it--that V would find him later, and he could maybe forget what had just happened. But half of him hoped never to see her again. How could something so nice, so friendly, kill and eat squealing babies for its dinner..?

exit Warrior
@Vee

In the moment, little V hadn't thought anything wrong of dredging a tiny, flailing baby from its nest and sinking her fangs into it - poisoning it beyond the grave. It was food, and the snake's empty stomach demanded it. Caught up in her excitement about finally spotting and catching a meal, poor Warrior's words and protests had been ignored.

Only when she turned, eager and full-bellied with her first-ever meal, did she come to grips with reality again. If she could have, V would've furrowed her brow, frowned, done anything to look concerned and upset by Warrior's discomfort. Maybe the little thing had been alive and moving but - but... "Warrior?! Warrior, please."

Frozen in place as the foal cantered away, the snake looked side to side - racked with guilt - and coiled up in the shade of the mouse-bush. If it wouldn't leave her starving again, V would've upchucked the poor mouse.

;exit V

:(