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LOMAX was very green.

The first time Dirk had been there exploring with Jake he was able to take in just how green it was. It was slightly overwhelming.

Now he was there again, on the surface not under it exploring the burial mounds, leaned against a stone circle. Jake pranced about on the hill, ecstatic about one thing or another. Dirk paid him no mind and continued examining a small patch of delicate white flowers – Daisies, Jake had called them. They were interesting and unlike anything he had ever seen in real life. Nothing could distract him until a thump, closely followed by a scream was heard.

On his feet, sword raised and ready to strife, he heard his name being called.

“Jake?” A joyous laugh answered him, followed by beckons. Creeping towards the crest of the hill, Dirk cautiously peered over to see Jake on his back. He was stroking a creature that stood on his chest and was transfixed by it.

“Dirk, I’d thought all of these chaps to be dead,” He grinned up at Dirk, rosy cheeked and crooked teeth gleaming, “Come see!”

Sword still in hand, though lowered, he jogged down the hill to get a closer look.

“What is it?” He asked, taking off his shades to see better. It was a pure white with four legs and four wings like a fairy, opaque and milky. Small horns extended out and curled up at the tips and a silver ring pierced its nose. They eyes were white.

“A Tinkerbull, love!” He recognised that name,
“Didn’t you have those on your island?” He stood at Jake’s head, watching as the little bull head-butted Jake’s chin before mooing. His lips quirked up as Jake giggled and rubbed its head with his fingertips.
“Yeah, they loved me. While everything else would try to kill me, these little guys would flock at me for cuddles,” He looked up at Dirk, “It was slightly annoying.” Dirk sat down and rested the katana on the grass within reach. Jake’s head was cradled between his thighs, before he sat up. The tinkerbull rolled to his lap happily, presenting his stomach for Jake to lightly scratch.

“It’s cute, babe.” The tinkerbull rolled back to his feet and nudged at Dirk’s fingers that rested against Jake’s hips. Tentatively, Dirk rubbed under its chin with the pad of his thumb and it licked him, before sucking on his fingers.
“Yes, she is.” He pressed his face in the crook of Jake’s neck,
“She?” Jake nodded, humming,
“Her horns are blunter and she has fluffy legs.” He explained. Dirk looked at the bull’s hooves, noticing the hair that covered them. It grew from above the hoof and brushed against Jake’s thighs. It reminded him of a Gypsy horse, he believed the breed was officially called the Irish Cob.
“Wouldn’t she be called a Tinkercow then?”