Nutmeg ran to the wailing she froze at the sight of the little girl “ oh you poor little thing” the centaur bent down digging in her bags “ do you like cookies?” She asked offering the little girl a warm cookie
Nutmegs patter of her hooves clicked down the street. A red and white blanket wrapped around her horse half as she carried a steaming tin. Her straddle bags firmly in place as she trotted
“ eh sugar,” nutmeg winked at him as she heard her name called the friendly barista turned sour “ sweetheart you ordered a short, you need a Trenta to wake you up honey” nutmeg just smiled as she went to sit down again, stareing at her drink