Know thy colt, know thy colt, know thy colt...

A smaller pony of a black coat and a mangled mane was on the stage as the voice echoed, a sickly yellow toothed smile formed across his face.

...

"Ar'n't ya' 'sposed to be flappin' yar' lips over some tale ya' spun of me?"

Normally I would...

...But your hideous face took me off guard for a moment...

"Aye?! The lasses love me' face."

Really...?

...No accounting for taste it seems...

"Watch that young of yer's, lad."

The Pooka...

...Pooka...?

...Am I supposed to take you seriously...?

"'M I 'sposed to take a filly who won't show 'im self seriously?"

Touché...

...It it's own ill breed way...

The Pooka...

...is impotent...

"Ya' daft, boy!? I'm as---"

The Pooka...

"I be talkin' to ya', rock-brain!"

...chases ninjas...

"Yer' one more crack from bein' zapped to ma' forest, lad..."

I will stop there then...

"Wai--"

Now you know...

The Pooka...

The Pooka instead of making full on his intentions moved off from the stage, mentally plotting out his moves against that voice.